nokids

Since you know the end of the story anyway – I did not have a child – I’ll jump in here with a bit of now, and tell you a real life example to show why it is so hard to “just move on”.

In the course of the years of trying, nearing the end of the whole process, I sought legal advice looking into other options. The first fancy-shmancy barrister that I went to in London cost me an arm and a leg, so when I needed more legal advice on another issue that had arisen, I went to a local barrister (whose quality I knew well, as I work as a solicitor, and who gave me a reduced price) and another solicitor friend kindly let me send the brief without charge through her firm. (This was necessary for the barrister’s insurance). I got my advice, in conference and in writing, just as if I had been any other client of this barrister. The advice wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it would probably have been the same from any other barrister, and I tried to come to terms with it, and forget it.

Imagine my shock, when some months later, while attending a legal seminar, and chatting to this barrister with a glass of wine afterwards, she casually, in the full hearing of others, mentioned that she had had some further thoughts about the situation, that I could look into.

Embarrassingly, my reaction was nearly to start crying, and I had to mutter to her that I had no more energy to carry on and was not going to take things any further. I completely lost my cool, and I had to make my excuses and leave, hoping that no one would see the tears in my eyes as I did. I could not believe how unprofessional the barrister had been, mentioning my most private dream in front of a random assortment of legal professionals at a seminar! Hopefully, no one had heard, and people probably thought I was just tired (these seminars do go on a bit, and it was about 7pm by this time.)

For the barrister, it was just an interesting legal problem. For me, it was the end of a dream.

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