Parenthood really is a hard profession
SINCE moving back in with the family I jokingly consider myself a part-time mother.
My 12-year-old nephew swindles regular lifts from the skate park for him and his friends. That's when he's desperate, isn't allowed to catch the bus or not embarrassed to be seen with me.
My waking moments are filled with cries of the five year old.
"I don't want to go to school, it's boring," he yells as my sister insists, "I have photos of you having fun, look how much fun you're having".
I try to reason with him.
"Your dad doesn't want to go to work, I would rather stay in bed, enjoy daycare while it lasts."
I say this to no avail as the two-year-old happily watches on.
I see my sister and her friends comfort one child as they feed the other, as they cook dinner, as they bath the kids, as they enjoy their company. It's non-stop. It's exhausting, and I'm not even the one they are hanging off.
I admire parents. Equally, I admire those who can help a parent hopeful achieve their dream.
This week I spoke with a woman who generously donated her eggs to help a couple in their 40s fall pregnant, and is seeking a Sunshine Coast couple to help next.
The same day, a fertility doctor told me she was one of the rare ones, with an average one egg donor per year coming through their clinic.
While the concept of a donor-conceived child is a trigger for some, it is a miracle for those who so desperately want to become parents and have no other option.
I admire all you mums, dads and everyone in between.