Latest news with #Julian
Daily Mail
a day ago
- Health
- Daily Mail
TV presenter AMANDA BYRAM, after years of failed IVF, says: ‘I refuse to be shamed by online trolls for having a baby at 51'
In January this year, after 30 hours of sucking in Royal Sussex County Hospital's finest gas and air, at 51 I finally had the family I'd dreamt of. My second son, Jett, was a month premature, but he felt years overdue. When I first embarked on IVF over a decade ago, I never imagined it would take this long. I started freezing my eggs at 40, met my husband-to-be, Julian, when I was 41 and he was 34, and got married a year later. It wasn't until a few months after my 49th birthday that our first son, Phoenix, arrived. The emotional, physical and financial toll of my fertility journey had been immense, but ultimately worth it. Prematurity aside, my second pregnancy was almost identical to when I carried my first son: healthy, mercifully uneventful and on a strict need-to-know basis. Even though I'm a TV presenter, and am used to living in the public eye, we decided to keep the pregnancies a secret from everyone except closest family. I carried neatly both times, and loose clothing concealed my growing bump. Why the secrecy? After 25 years on shows including Total Wipeout and The Big Breakfast, perhaps I'd learnt to keep certain things private. Following many heartbreaking miscarriages and failed implant attempts, it was easier to try again without too many people knowing. And I wasn't ready for the raised eyebrows on the subject of whether I could, or should, have a baby at my age. Now that Jett had arrived safely, Julian and I were ready to share the news. I had my Instagram post ready, with a photo and words written from the heart. But as my finger hovered over the publish button, I hesitated. My mind drifted back three years to when I announced the birth of Phoenix. I was giddy with excitement at sharing the news and, at first, our joy was amplified by the sheer volume of love we received. Thousands of messages of congratulations from friends and strangers flooded my Instagram feed – most wonderful of all, hundreds of women telling me I was a source of inspiration as they navigated IVF. Of course there was a vocal minority who felt the need to be negative about my age, but they were easy to ignore. Then, during a 3am feed, I ventured beyond my social media channels into the comment sections of news articles covering the story. That's when I saw them. Row after row of cruel words that took my breath away. Strangers dissecting my life, my choices, my body, my future. They calculated my age and concluded my son was destined for misery… 'There's no way she gave birth to this child!' 'It is selfish to have a child at 49.' 'She'll be mistaken for the child's gran when it reaches school age.' 'Her toyboy should do the school run.' 'Fast-forward 20 years: a young man on the cusp of adulthood with two dead parents. I'm sorry but that's just a fact.' I was so angry at the flippancy of the comments. People assumed I had chosen to delay motherhood for my career. The truth? It took me 41 years to meet someone I truly wanted to build a life with. I had been engaged in my late 30s but called off the wedding at the last minute –knowing deep down it wasn't right, even though it might cost me the family I always wanted. When I met Julian, a producer, on a photoshoot in London in 2014, we started dating, married in 2016 and began trying for a baby. And trying. And trying. Having already frozen some eggs I was aware of the diminishing chances, so we moved to IVF pretty quickly. The retrieval cycles dictated our schedule and became woven into our lives, from injecting myself moments before stepping out on live television, to forcing a smile for the cameras hours after a miscarriage. After every loss we picked ourselves up and kept going. The most hurtful online comments were from other women, many of them mothers. Suddenly, afraid of judgment, I began to doubt whether I should share my age with others I met at playgroups and parks. Over time the paranoia faded, and the more mums I met the clearer it became: there is no perfect blueprint for parenthood and life doesn't come with guarantees. We all know people who lost incredible parents too soon, just as we know people who had long-living but toxic parents. Along the way, I met older mums, teenage mums, working mums, stay-at-home mums, mums to children with special needs. I met women who had chosen to go it alone with a sperm donor, others juggling toddlers and teenage stepkids. I met refugees who had fled war zones with their babies in their arms. At the heart of it we were all the same – we found motherhood as tough as it was beautiful, and none of us were thinking much beyond the next bedtime. When Phoenix was two, we decided to try for a second baby. We consulted our families and doctors. The response: a resounding 'go for it'. There were more IVF disappointments along the way, but then Jett arrived. Once I posted the news, the mortality mathematicians, as expected, had a field day yet again, with comments like, 'How selfish – that poor child is going to grow up with parents older than most grandparents when it starts school and will be mocked for having old parents.' The outrage didn't sting this time, though. I refuse to waste time worrying about what other people think, and even less worrying about what might happen 20 or 30 years from now. Instead, I prefer to focus on the positives of having children later in life. The biggest plus is, ironically, my age itself. Finally I have maturity and wisdom – and these outstrip any traits I possessed in my younger years. So, yes, I may be a silver-haired lady when I collect my kids from primary school, but I'll be proud of every single strand. I do my bit by exercising regularly and not smoking, drinking, stressing or eating junk food. There's even evidence that women who give birth after 40 are more likely to live longer, often reaching their 100s! Maybe a purposeful existence keeps us older mums ticking along. I might be here for decades to come or I might not. That's just how life works. What I can control is the love I give and the lessons I pass down. Day and night I hold my children close and remind them they are loved unconditionally. I hope to teach them to embrace life with an open heart, free from judgment and guided by compassion. Online trolls will always feel safe behind their screens. Maybe writing these words opens me up to further scrutiny, but if we don't speak up, how can we expect change? The keyboard critics will win, while society will continue to question and condemn the women who – for one reason or a million others – left it late to start a family. So, let them talk. I'm too busy being a mother.
West Australian
2 days ago
- General
- West Australian
Belle Taylor: Playing the baby name game
Imagine welcoming the arrival of a perfect little baby, staring down at it lovingly and thinking: 'I'm going to call you Sativa.' Yes Sativa, as in the plant, Cannabis sativa. Seems unlikely, but that's exactly what three sets of new parents in New Zealand tried to do last year. Luckily for the would-be Sativas, their folks were stopped by the New Zealand Department of Internal Affairs (if you're picturing a bunch of people in black suits and bulletproof vests bursting into maternity wards saying 'That name is NOT choice bro', then same), who have taken on the important task of not letting Kiwis name their kids dumb stuff. The list of names that were rejected by New Zealand last year was recently released and it makes for quite the roll call. Topping the list was King, requested by 11 sets of parents. Three different families tried and failed to name their children Kyng, Kingz and Kingi. There were 10 requests for Prince and four for Princess. Two families went rogue and requested Prinz and Prynce. Three families literally went for Rogue. Also on the list: Magesty (yes, that was the spelling), Major, Messiah and Mighty. Roil, Royal, Royallty, Crown and Crownos. Duke, Juke, Solvreign and for one particularly big Enid Blyton fan: Fanny. Some of these parents need to lay off the Sativa. Australian authorities don't release such a list, but we do have 89 banned names. I am unsure if anyone has actually attempted to name their offspring Bonghead, G-Bang, iMac or Scrotum — all of which are among the 89 banned Australian names. But I sincerely hope no one is out there crocheting a Bonghead baby blanket because that's going to be a waste of yarn. Naming a child is fraught everywhere, it seems. A recent survey by UK website Gransnet found one in five grandparents hated their grandchild's name. I'm surprised it's only one in five considering the list they then gave of their most disliked monikers. You would think it would be full of the type of names on the New Zealand banned list, but instead the names they can't stand sound like any kindergarten roll call: Aurora, Charlotte, Elijah, Finn, Jack, Lindsay, Noah, Sally and Tabitha. These grandparents don't know how good they got it. The parents need to try a little reverse psychology. Tell Nan and Pop you're naming the kid Solvreign and then at the last minute: 'Surprise! We settled on Jack.' They'll be thrilled. I learnt the hard way that you should never reveal the potential name of a child before you have inked it on the birth certificate. Not long after discovering I was pregnant with my son, my partner and I settled on the perfect name: Julian. My dad reacted as if we were naming him Humperdinkle Trusiwotsit. 'You can't name him that Belle!' he moaned. And then would call me at odd hours to shout new, increasingly weird, suggestions down the phone, like: 'Dusty! We can give him a tiny neck tattoo!' (It was 2017, Dustin Martin was everywhere.) We relented, Julian was off the list (to any Julians out there: you have a lovely name. To any Humperdinkle Trusiwotsits out there: good luck with that). Mum was no help either. After 40 plus years of teaching, she would look through my list muttering things like, 'Won't sit on the mat . . . runs with scissors . . . always with the runny nose . . . STOP rocking on that chair!' until she entered some sort of trance and I had to gently lead her to a chair with a nice cup of tea and say something soothing like: 'It's OK, you're not on playground duty today.' Of course, the grandparents don't get the final say. Parents should be able to name their kid whatever they like. But perhaps stay away from royal titles, military ranks, insults and slang for genitalia. And whatever you do, don't tell the grandparents.
Perth Now
2 days ago
- General
- Perth Now
Maybe some parents shouldn't get naming rights
Imagine welcoming the arrival of a perfect little baby, staring down at it lovingly and thinking: 'I'm going to call you Sativa.' Yes Sativa, as in the plant, Cannabis sativa. Seems unlikely, but that's exactly what three sets of new parents in New Zealand tried to do last year. Luckily for the would-be Sativas, their folks were stopped by the New Zealand Department of Internal Affairs (if you're picturing a bunch of people in black suits and bulletproof vests bursting into maternity wards saying 'That name is NOT choice bro', then same), who have taken on the important task of not letting Kiwis name their kids dumb stuff. The list of names that were rejected by New Zealand last year was recently released and it makes for quite the roll call. Topping the list was King, requested by 11 sets of parents. Three different families tried and failed to name their children Kyng, Kingz and Kingi. There were 10 requests for Prince and four for Princess. Two families went rogue and requested Prinz and Prynce. Three families literally went for Rogue. Also on the list: Magesty (yes, that was the spelling), Major, Messiah and Mighty. Roil, Royal, Royallty, Crown and Crownos. Duke, Juke, Solvreign and for one particularly big Enid Blyton fan: Fanny. Some of these parents need to lay off the Sativa. Australian authorities don't release such a list, but we do have 89 banned names. I am unsure if anyone has actually attempted to name their offspring Bonghead, G-Bang, iMac or Scrotum — all of which are among the 89 banned Australian names. But I sincerely hope no one is out there crocheting a Bonghead baby blanket because that's going to be a waste of yarn. Naming a child is fraught everywhere, it seems. A recent survey by UK website Gransnet found one in five grandparents hated their grandchild's name. I'm surprised it's only one in five considering the list they then gave of their most disliked monikers. You would think it would be full of the type of names on the New Zealand banned list, but instead the names they can't stand sound like any kindergarten roll call: Aurora, Charlotte, Elijah, Finn, Jack, Lindsay, Noah, Sally and Tabitha. These grandparents don't know how good they got it. The parents need to try a little reverse psychology. Tell Nan and Pop you're naming the kid Solvreign and then at the last minute: 'Surprise! We settled on Jack.' They'll be thrilled. I learnt the hard way that you should never reveal the potential name of a child before you have inked it on the birth certificate. Not long after discovering I was pregnant with my son, my partner and I settled on the perfect name: Julian. My dad reacted as if we were naming him Humperdinkle Trusiwotsit. 'You can't name him that Belle!' he moaned. And then would call me at odd hours to shout new, increasingly weird, suggestions down the phone, like: 'Dusty! We can give him a tiny neck tattoo!' (It was 2017, Dustin Martin was everywhere.) We relented, Julian was off the list (to any Julians out there: you have a lovely name. To any Humperdinkle Trusiwotsits out there: good luck with that). Mum was no help either. After 40 plus years of teaching, she would look through my list muttering things like, 'Won't sit on the mat . . . runs with scissors . . . always with the runny nose . . . STOP rocking on that chair!' until she entered some sort of trance and I had to gently lead her to a chair with a nice cup of tea and say something soothing like: 'It's OK, you're not on playground duty today.' Of course, the grandparents don't get the final say. Parents should be able to name their kid whatever they like. But perhaps stay away from royal titles, military ranks, insults and slang for genitalia. And whatever you do, don't tell the grandparents.
Daily Record
3 days ago
- Daily Record
First picture of motorcyclist killed in horror crash outside Scots village
The driver of the van was uninjured. The road was closed for around 10 hours to allow investigations to take place. A motorcyclist who tragically died in a horror crash outside a Scots village has been named as Julien Marchand. The incident took place at around 4.05pm on Friday, 23 May on the A819 near Tullich when emergency services were called to a report of a crash involving a Triumph Tiger motorcycle and a Ford Transit Luton van. The rider of the motorcycle, 48-year-old Julian, was pronounced dead at the scene. His family have asked for their privacy to be respected at this time. The driver of the van was uninjured. The road was closed for around 10 hours to allow for investigations to take place. Sergeant Kenneth Malaney said: 'Our thoughts remain with Julien's family and friends as they come to terms with their loss. 'Our enquiries to establish the full circumstances of the crash are ongoing and we are asking anyone who have any information to contact police. 'If you can assist our enquires in any way, please contact police on 101, quoting incident 2380 of 23 May 2025.' It comes as another biker was killed when his Sherco 290 bike crashed in Auchinleck, Ayrshire, shortly after midnight on Saturday, May 24. Police named him as 34-year-old Kris Leitch. No other vehicles were involved. Main Street in Auchinleck was closed for six hours following the crash. Join the Daily Record WhatsApp community! Get the latest news sent straight to your messages by joining our WhatsApp community today. You'll receive daily updates on breaking news as well as the top headlines across Scotland. No one will be able to see who is signed up and no one can send messages except the Daily Record team. All you have to do is click here if you're on mobile, select 'Join Community' and you're in! If you're on a desktop, simply scan the QR code above with your phone and click 'Join Community'. We also treat our community members to special offers, promotions, and adverts from us and our partners. If you don't like our community, you can check out any time you like. To leave our community click on the name at the top of your screen and choose 'exit group'. If you're curious, you can read our Privacy Notice. Sergeant Brian Simpson previously said: 'Our thoughts remain with Kris's family and friends as they come to terms with their terrible loss. 'Our enquiries to establish the full circumstances of the crash are ongoing and we are asking anyone who saw the motorbike prior to the crash, or has any dashcam footage, to please contact police. "We are also keen to speak with anyone who attended the scene to assist but did not remain to provide their details to officers. 'If you can assist our enquiries in any way, please call police on 101, quoting incident 0082 of May 24.'
Bloomberg
3 days ago
- Business
- Bloomberg
Evercore's Emanuel: Not Really the Time to Add to Risk
00:00 Julian, you and the team and Sarah over at Evercore, nailing it as always. So how bullish do you really want to be after this? I think you need to be sort of step back and understand that a lot of this is sort of a game of tariff high low. Right. So at the bottom, when we saw capitulation, panic, really, and the global weighted tariff rate based on Liberation Day was well above Smoot-Hawley, 25% or thereabouts. You know, we thought it was a good time to buy. And frankly, now here we are on the other end of it with this court ruling overnight. And the tariff rate is, you know, implied back towards, you know, close to what we started the year at that, you know, certainly for sub 5%. And we know that Trump has said many, many times how much he likes tariffs. So the ultimate landing spot is still in the middle. And to us, you know, you've got an expensive market with a relatively high degree of uncertainty, and it's not really the time to add to risk in our view.
