Wishing on a Star

The Absent Blogger Returns

2008-01-04T22:38:00.000+11:00

And here I return. No excuse really other than fear. Fear of success and hope. Fear of everything going right. Fear of the unknown. Just fear.

(Oh, and I forgot my blogger password, returned my school computer, didn't have another for a few weeks and needed to try and get my life and home organised in time).

And then, she arrived. Early, but not too early. Early enough to surprise, but not enough to affect her health. She was small, but not tiny and she started to grow with the most amazing speed.

And now, she is 12 1/2 weeks old and she greets me with smiles every morning.

I want to post more, and I will when I get some time, although that is a commodity in extremely short supply now. It will be soon, but it has been too long already.

So here she is before it's even longer, my LittleStar ...

Avoidance

2007-08-20T16:22:00.000+10:00

It's true. I've been avoiding. And I'm not sure I am even aware enough to say why.

The reality, whilst clearly evident, seems all too tenuous to feel confidence. And to to whinge seems ungrateful. To feel uncertain, unsure, scared and vulnerable all feel like I am not demonstrating appropriate respect or concern for those who aren't here yet.

But it's more than that.

I want to be able to be like all of those other untainted and unscarred pregnant women. I want to feel joy in my belly and confidence in my progress. I want to feel that I deserve this and that the time for worry and concern is behind me.

But it's more than that.

I know things are going well. Every check-up, every scan, every conversation with other pregnant women. Apart from the means of our beginnings, I have been the text-book case of the 'perfect' pregnancy. And that scares me. Why should I be so lucky now? When will the bubble burst and the fairy tale end? And if it doesn't, what did I do to deserve this? What have I done right?

And with everything going so well, what right do I have to be paranoid and worried? I have been in the place where heartbreaking worry lives and I feel like a traitor to my old self. From back there, I always thought that this is where I should feel safe. Free from the burdens of fear, pain and despair. But they have followed me. In a different form, yes, but they are still here.

Most of the time I have them squashed firmly down in a very small place in my mind. And denial has been working well. Which is probably why I have been avoiding. To write is always to bring up the deepest thoughts within sometimes the darkest places. It has been easier to pretend there are no dark places if I don't write about them. And I don't want to become repetitive and boring ... even to myself.

But, I think, I can't bury my head any longer. I know from past experience that my most effective resolutions have always come through writing - whether for myself or for an audience, it doesn't matter. I need to write. I want to feel the joy without the dark cloud threatening to obscure it. Time is passing and my goal will soon be reached. I need to find my peace.

So, I'm back. As I write I am now 30 weeks pregnant and my baby is stretching and kicking against the taught skin of my belly. At times, I develop a very lopsided bump, and AdventureBoy loves nothing more than to place his warm hand on the movement. It always calms both of us down - and I hope it has the same effect once the baby is born! I am feeling well and have put on a steady, but minimal amount of weight. I have had no sickness, cravings or aversions and have been eating pretty much as I normally would.

I have taken leave from my study from now until early next year - my mind has been full of too many other things too really give it my full focus. And I finish work in 6 weeks. That is actually something I'm really looking forward to, even though I have never felt that need before. I usually love my job and I am one the rare people who could say with absolute certainty that I am in the right career for me. But, after 14 years in the one place, a year away is sounding very appealing. And it will give me the opportunity to actually complete my study before I return. So I suppose, I'll be kind of working anyway.

And that's it, for the moment. I will need to do the rounds and visit all those I have neglected in my avoidance. Hopefully, there are more happy stories than sad ones.

See you soon ...

The Infertile Lament

2007-05-30T19:56:00.000+10:00

We are infertile, you and I,

With broken hearts and few choices left to try

We have been the patient etherised upon a table;

We have travelled, through certain half-deserted dreams,

Of devastating negatives

Of restless nights and fading positives

And hopeful starts with grating missives:

Conversations that follow like a tedious argument

Of increasingly tragic intent

To lead us to an overwhelming decision …

We do not need to ask, “What is it?”

We just go and make our visit.

In the room the scientists come and go

Talking of blastocysts, we know.

And indeed there will be time

For the fears and hopes that slide along the years,

Inflicting despair and determination in doses;

There will be time, there will be time

To prepare a treatment to match the bloods and scans;

There will be time to trigger and time to plan,

And time for all the injections and alarms of maybe

That allow yet another hope to penetrate our heart;

Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,

And for a hundred visions and revisions,

Before the taking of a dose or three.

In the room the nurses come and go

Talking of HCG, we know.

And indeed there will be time

To wonder, “Do we dare?” and, “Do we care?”

Time to turn back and cry in despair,

With a fear born of the possibility so rare —

[They will say: “It’s real, the journey has now begun”]

Our disbelief, followed swiftly by a mood so glum,

Now what do we do, that we have a race to run—

[They will say: “Just be happy, relax!”]

Do we dare

Disturb this universe?

That we have known so well

For results and positives that could so easily reverse.

For we have known them all already, known them all:—

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,

We have measured out our cycles with syringe platoons;

We might be lucky and hear those fateful words

Beneath the thumping heartbeat sweating in our phone.

But can a positive ever heal this wound?

Because we are infertile, you and I,

A growing belly might stem the flow,

But our heart will always hold this stone.

That success will only partially hold

Cradled safe in the hand of hope.

What happened to April??!!

2007-05-02T22:02:00.000+10:00

You know, I think I actually slept through most of it! I finished school on the 5th and have been on leave since. Great in one way, but also allowing me to wantonly indulge in my sedentarism (I know, I'm inventing words here). I haven't been getting out of bed until around 10am each day and the uni work I was planning hasn't had even a chance of a look-in yet.

But I have been well. Apart from almost complete exhaustion and a lot of pain in my lower back, I have continued to have almost no symptoms throughout the whole pregnancy - and I'm 14 1/2 weeks now. From everything I read, it seems that if I was going to have them they would have appeared by now. So I count myself lucky (in more ways than one).

My apprehension and anxiety have diminished somewhat, although it's always lurking in the background ready to pounce, particularly the moment I tell someone else the reason why I haven't been drinking alcohol, can't eat certain foods, am tired all the time, need bigger clothes etc etc.

In fact, that's been one of the hardest things to deal with - actually telling people. AB and I have even had numerous arguments about it - he wants to tell the world, and has done so since the beginning, especially since the NT scan which came back and a very low risk. Meanwhile, I am quite happy to keep it quiet until it becomes too apparent to hide anymore. I don't really know why I feel so strongly like this, but I really have agonised over each and every announcement. Perhaps it has something to do with how protective I have been prior to this, containing my feelings and thoughts and actions and disappointments, even from my own family. I guess 4 IVF cycles would do that to you (or to me, at least). And now that it's out there, I feel like I have lost all control of the process (not that I really had any in the first place) but at least it was my information to control.

I know I just need to relax a little about it. It's ABs information as well, and I know he is so excited. It's just been hard to let go.

But, as Dr Challenge says, this one seems to be stuck. I have had as many scans as I have needed and little Nova was sucking it's thumb last week. All of the measurements have been spot on and my belly is starting to look distinctly rounded in the past couple of weeks. All seems to be going ahead as it should be and I really am happy. But it's way past my bedtime and I really must post. For those who are interested, here's a pic of our perfect headed little human (you know, it really was touch and go between that or a prawn at the first scan).
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I think I might be ...

2007-03-28T21:17:00.000+10:00

I haven't been posting much lately - mainly because I don't want to give into the self-indulgent and ultimately boring and depressive whinging about how I'm feeling so uncertain. I know that before now, those posts from newly pregnant bloggers would hurt - not them, but me. That they were in a place I so desperately wanted to be and all they could do was complain.

And now I now how they feel. From analysing and obsessing over every single aspect of our infertile state, it is only natural to simply transfer that obsession and over-analysis to the new pregnancy. It's impossible to just sit back and be content and confident - and you can triple that if you have already had something go wrong previously.

So, to anyone I may have inadvertently upset, I'm sorry. I totally understand if you need to leave or can't possibly leave a comment just to reassure me ... again! I hope to limit how often I give into this, but I know it will surface at some times or others. Feel free to tell me when I've been ranting for a bit too long as well ... I don't want to end up shitting myself throughout this process.

But I do want my blog to hold a record of my journey, so some of it will inevitably be in a trough. For today, however, I think I am on a peak.

Last night, I was feeling so miserable about my continuing lack of symptoms that I finally quelled AB's annoying optimism with my certainty that it was over. I have never been able to budge that before and that sent my spiralling even further down. If he had lost hope, then surely there was none. And I sat with Dr Google for hours, listening to his horror stories and worst-case scenarios.

I had an appointment with Dr Challenge this morning. I could barely drag myself to his office and when I followed him into the scan room, my heart was thumping in my throat and my stomach was tied in nervous knots. I lay on the table, almost in tears before he inserted the probe. And I saw it, although it had been there before, and I couldn't be sure if it was any different or bigger than last time. I was still holding my breath.

Until he pointed out the heartbeat. I could barely see it because I forgot to bring my glasses (again!), but he tried another angle and it all became clear. He measured it and asked, "when's the due date?"
25th October.
"Spot on," he said and pointed to the bottom of the screen, where it said in luminous green letters, 25th October.
And then it moved. It jumped, in fact and waved it's little arms at us and I really couldn't say a word. I was just so stunned that all of that was still going on inside me and I was feeling absolutely none of it!

So today I'm 9weeks 3days. The heartbeat was 179bpm and it waved. I haven't been sick. My boobs haven't hurt. I have been tired but I'm anaemic. I have been constipated but it's gone. I have been peeing a lot, but it's now reduced as well. My pants are tight but I've put on no weight. I have had so very few of the symptoms that I have ready about in all of the books and sites I have been consulting that I have been certain that it can't possibly be real.

But, I think, I might finally be able to say ... I'm pregnant.

........................................

I am on holidays in 1 more week and I have also taken 3 extra weeks of long service leave to work on my PhD. I now have extra incentive to get it finished as soon as possible. 40 had always been my deadline, but I'm thinking 25th October is looking good now. So, that will be 5 weeks of focussed study and writing. Lucky, really, that I have not been feeling so bad after all.

This random game of chance

2007-03-14T21:57:00.000+11:00

I went to see my GP yesterday to update my referral to my fertility doctor who has now magically become my obstetrician. Apart from reassuring me a little, she sent me for some full bloodwork and a pee in a cup test. She also gave me 4 undated blood forms which I can use whenever I need to. Just knowing they are there gives me a greater feeling of control.

I really think that's a large part of the issue. In every part of my life, I have mostly been in control. At home, at work, in my study and, when I choose to, with my body. If I have wanted anything in my life, I have generally been able to work hard and get it. Achievements haven't always come easily, but they have come. My stubborness has assured that I don't give up.

But this is so different. I have tried and worked and persisted and searched. And there has been nothing I have been able to do to change the outcomes. It all seems to be so random and all I can do is just keep rolling the dice, waiting for those lucky numbers to show up.

I got my HCG result this afternoon and it was 79,451. Are those numbers lucky? Maybe. They seem to be heading in the right direction and I guess my negativity the day before would have assured me they would be nowhere. Last year, at the same stage, it was only 4000, so obviously a lot better than that.

This helps a bit today - I'm possibly feeling a little more relaxed (although believe me, it's only a little). And now I keep waiting. Hopefully I'll still feel this way tomorrow, but who knows?

All I can do is keep rolling the dice.

I just want to enjoy this

2007-03-12T18:57:00.000+11:00

I keep thinking about everything that can still go wrong. Dr Google has been showing me so many examples of a healthy heartbeat at 6 1/2 weeks, then nothing. I still have almost no symptoms and I keep thinking it is all over already.

Every time I squeeze my boobs - are they smaller? Are they sore?
Did I get up fewer times to pee last night - it was 5 the night before?
I'm not as tired this afternoon - I should be worried?
I've only felt queasy for one morning - are my hormones not high enough?
My abdomen is quite bloated, but maybe I'm just fat?

I so much thought that seeing the heartbeat would help me become a little calmer for a while. That I might relax and enjoy this pregnancy, but I have been certain for so long that it has been out of my reach that I still can't believe it will finally happen. And the thing that makes it worse is that it still could turn out that way. After getting this far, there is still a long way to go.

Why should I be so lucky now?

I know I'm further than I've ever been before and I shouldn't be ungrateful. But I want the end as well - I don't think that's too much to ask.

I wish my body would speak to me and tell me what's going on. I have so little to go by - I know the scan was great - right size and strong heartbeat - but it's no guarantee. Does anyone know the percentages or success? Not that it will probably alleviate my worry though ...

AB doesn't understand why I keep doing this to myself. He thinks I should stay positive and believe it will happen. I know he's right, but it's just not that easy.

Sorry for the whine ... maybe it's the hormones????

We have a heartbeat!

2007-03-08T20:25:00.000+11:00

I didn't realise I had been holding my breath for months until I released it today.

The scan operator was one of the lovely ones I have had before who also went to school with a friend of mine. As soon as she inserted the probe she smiled and said 'there it is'.

At first I couldn't make out what it was that she could see and then she zoomed in on it and there it was - a bean shaped smudge with a tiny white dot pulsating in the middle of it at 130bpm. And then I couldn't see it any more for the tears blurring my vision. I couldn't even look at AB because I was only just holding it together (pathetic, I know!).

So we are measuring today 6w4d (which is exactly what the IVF nurse told me I would be today). 28th October - I hope a happy date for my future - I have passed so many other dates which have become memorials to be sad about.

So thank you all for your thoughts and comments. I know it is still not over yet and I will continue to stress about all sorts of other things now ... but hurdle number 2 has been passed.

And now, I think I need a bath.

Scared

2007-03-07T18:07:00.000+11:00

Spotting today.
Scan tomorrow.

My heart is sinking.

Has it been that long already?

2007-03-05T22:06:00.000+11:00

I didn't mean to be gone for so long.

But I definitely needed to have a break. I needed to forget about everything related to fertility and just enjoy my Christmas and holidays with my family.

It was just all getting too hard. I'm sure you all know how that feels.

And I wanted to do the next cycle quietly. I guess I just had an attack of privacy. It wasn't that I wanted to keep all of you out. I really just couldn't face writing about it all again. It felt so repetitive ... you know, cycle 4 and all.

And now I'm in a place I don't feel certain of. I have been here before and it has all amounted to nothing. So I have continued to have nothing to say or, more realistically, not actually knowing how I wanted to say any of it.

But, here goes (with great uncertainty a given, ok) ...
On Day 17dpo beta was 855. Stunned, to say the least. Today I am (I think) 6weeks 3days. I have had an almost complete lack of symptoms other than lots of pee time (night and day) and mildly tender breasts (mostly at night). A bit hungry, but not ravenous and a bloated abdomen.

Over the course of the past two weeks I have sunk to the depths of conviction that it is finished (as it was last time), alternated with fleeting thoughts of 'maybe'. I don't have an ultrasound until next Tuesday and I think I am truly going to go crazy between now and then. I am just so scared.

I know I should be overjoyed and maybe I'll allow myself a bit of that after next Tuesday, but until then I am riding high on the tightrope way too terrified to look down.

And there you go - I probably shouldn't have written after all. But I promise I will keep posting no matter what the news.

Wish me luck.

School's out for summer ...

2006-12-16T12:19:00.000+11:00

No, we haven't been having sex for all of that time!

But, I finally finished school for the year yesterday and I have finally had an opportunity to actually catch up here. I can't believe so much time has passed - but I'm not surprised at the same time. Every year my job has grown and the end of the year is one of the biggest times of all. I have had so many responsibilities that anything remotely related to 'me time' has gone out the window (really, you should see my bikini line!!!).

So the sex for this cycle doesn't seem to have worked (for reproduction anyway). I have another cycle to go before I begin my next IVF cycle when Dr Challenge returns from his holidays. It's actually been quite liberating on this 'down time'. I have had another glimpse of what life used to be like before IF. I had forgotten the freedom I used to have. To eat and drink what I wanted. To not have blood tests a few mornings a week. No jabbing, stabbing or tabbing. To be too busy to remember I was infertile. It's really been quite absent.

And now I'm on holidays for 6 weeks! It's such an awesome feeling that I'm not going to think about it for a little while longer. We have our third wedding anniversary next week and numerous Christmas parties and events. Then Christmas, New Year and AB on holidays for a few weeks. All too much fun to be bogged down by my burdens.

Sorry about my absence, but I will visit you all over the next few days.

Maybe I might try (sex)!!!

2006-11-23T19:47:00.000+11:00

What do you think are the chances?

VERY outside would be my answer. But I'll give it a go anyway. You know, that mythical concept that sex leads to pregnancy. As I just have to sit around waiting until January for my next cycle, I might as well. You never know, we might even enjoy it!

All of you who are teachers out there will know the intensity of the last few weeks of the school year. I have been frantically marking exams, preparing results, writing reports, checking reports, organising classes for next year, writing presentations, conducting professional development, writing policies, creating handbooks etc etc etc ...

So my absence this last week has been due to time of year rather than emotional distress. Not that I haven't been upset about Bob. I really did think that this one might work. But now that it hasn't, I haven't really had too much time to dwell on it. Being busy sometimes is a good thing.

Dr Challenge is happy with my plan. If my cycle works on time, I will be likely to have egg pick up at the end of January. I guess if it wasn't Christmas I'd be pushing to jump on another cycle again, but with so much to distract me during this time, the wait will be bearable (I say that now, of course, ask me again on the 2nd January!).

And I decided, I need something else to look forward to next year than a baby. I've been putting everything on hold each year, waiting for the 'big thing' that I was sure was going to happen. Waiting ... waiting ... waiting for the baby that's never arrived. And so I end each year with disappointment. By Christmas, I have told myself. Next Christmas, I'll be pregnant.

I've been starting to dread Christmas and the arrival of yet another failed year.

And I know it won't replace anything, but I have booked us a trip to China in April. I have always wanted to visit China, and I teach a unit on China with my Yr 7 class, so now, I'm excited. I have something to look forward to - something I can guarantee will actually happen. I have paid my money, bought my tickets and now, I can go. It will work, unlike the awful uncertainty we face with every cycle we pay for in this game. We don't get our money back if it's broken.

In the meantime, back to reports. I am sorry I haven't been visiting or commenting at your places - but I really just have to survive work at the moment - and then I have a big reward of 6 weeks holiday at the end of it!! I hope to be able to get to some visiting over the weekend ... and I hope all of your stories have been going well right now. If not, I really do feel for you.

Take care.

Time for a makeover?

2006-11-16T20:57:00.000+11:00

Bob didn't like the decor.

HCG today - 5.

And I'm OK.
Disappointed - yes.
Mildy heartbroken - yes.
Slightly panicked - yes.
But OK.

I was expecting it and my grieving had been all done and over by yesterday. My body was giving me clear messages that something had been ... but now was gone.

And I've started making a plan. I'm not sure if it's a fully formulated plan yet but, by the end of writing this post, it might be.

So, even though I have 2 frozen embryos, I want to do another stim cycle. Because these are young embryos (compared to a future me at least). If this process ever works, I will want to try it again. And my 40-year-old embryos will have less chance of sticking than these 38-year-old ones. So I'll save them - keep them in the bank - and hopefully get the opportunity to use them for number 2 in the future. Perhaps a little idealistic ... but I have to be ... or why am I bothering with any of this?

But first, I have to have this period, then another, to prepare for the third and pick up / transfer after that. They won't go straight into another stim cycle to protect my ovaries (even though they only collected 5 eggs). Which leaves us kind of hanging around until the end of January, even with my 26-day cycle.

I could potentially have a FET next cycle ... which would appease my impatience ... but I would regret it down the track. I know there are no guarantees about anything - and I'm probably just talking all over the place - sorry to take you on this uncertain journey - but I feel like I'm tentatively happy about these plans.

It will mean that Dr Challenge will be on leave at the time, but I might be able to have Dr Important do it all instead. They are not associated at all except that they use the same clinic, but they sometimes take over each others patients when they are away. In my small town, they are the only 2 fertility specialists we have - prior to Dr Challenge coming to live here, Dr Important was the only one. And I have only heard very good things about him, so I'm not too concerned about having another strange man poking around ... well, you know ... down there! I have lost all dignity when it comes to that part of my body and medical professionals by now.

But, I'm not meeting with Dr Challenge until next week about all of this. I am hoping he will agree that these plans are a good idea - the nurse at the clinic thought so when I discussed them with her this afternoon. I think I'll send him an email tomorrow.

And in the meantime, I'll work on that redecoration. A new colour scheme - a few new cushions perhaps - something that will appeal to an embryo. I've got a couple of months - I hope I can do a good job of it this time ...

Still waiting in limbo ...

2006-11-13T14:54:00.000+11:00

I have just spoken to the clinic. It seems that Bob is still making up his mind. My beta is 33. Neither here nor there and I can't keep clinging to this vague hope. I know it can happen to some 'lucky' people that these low numbers go on to become successful pregnancies ... but I can't hold out for luck.

I have a follow-up test on Thursday. Just to confirm the inevitable.

Why can't it just all work out right for a change?

I don't know what to think now.

I guess I just keep holding my breath.

Temptation

2006-11-11T13:39:00.000+11:00

I've never really been tempted before. I've seen them beckoning from the shelves of the pharmacy, but their sterile faces did not interest me at all. I could resist. I could wait. But today, I just want to know. I want to jump in my car and make the surreptitious purchase, scanning for familiars before I hand over the cash.

I am still waiting and I still know nothing. If Bob's there, he's not making any form of communication. All is quiet and I'm in the dark, with nothing but clean toilet paper as my guide. This is not following the pattern of either of my 2 previous cycles and I can't make any prediction of what the answer will be.

It's doing my head in (although I'm happy to say I don't have my headache any more). I need to distract - the garden is beckoning - I have student work to mark - I could bring in the dry washing. But, no, I sit here on the computer waiting for an answer to appear. Right now, however, there are only 2 ways I will get that answer. I really want to wait until Monday morning ... why, I don't really know ... I think it's a kind of self-control thing. Maybe I'd like to keep living with 'maybe' rather than a clear 'no'.

Maybe it will be 'yes'.

And so, I wait. I have no answer and I have no clues. Bob is either resting or gone. My period didn't come yesterday as it was due to do, but does that really mean anything anyway?

I am holding my breath.

My vision swims before me and tears glisten in the corners.
I wipe them away but they are hard, like diamonds.
Every step I float into another void.
And my blood echoes louder in my ears.

I am holding my breath.

I pinch, prod and poke the soft flesh.
My body responds with stubborn silence.
Restless footsteps haunt my dreams, though I'm awake.
And I stare into the sun again.

I am holding my breath.

Memories used to be friends in a world without diamonds.
Certainty has been replaced with clouds and wisps.
Grasping at vapours only brings heartache.
And all I know is that I continue.

Holding my breath.

Zombie on the couch

2006-11-09T20:05:00.000+11:00

Headache and a half!! Since yesterday afternoon, I have had a really painful compression type, throbbing headache. Today, it was so bad I felt like I was going to throw up every time I moved and had to leave work at lunch time and come home and sleep. It's been awful.

Tonight, it's a little bit better, but I feel so wiped out by it that I can't do anything but sit on the couch like a zombie. I've got heaps of marking to do, although concentrating on looking so closely at student work is just not going to happen. My post here will have to be short as looking at the computer is straining me as well.

Now, I don't think this is anything remotely connected to a symptom. I think it's more directly linked to a sore neck and I thankfully already had a chiropractor appointment booked this afternoon and that seems to have helped, although it was agony during the treatment.

During my afternoon sleep, I woke in some pain with a full bladder but, again, that could have just been a coincidence. Following that, a kind of tight feeling for a while, but I have had that kind of feeling before if I let my bladder get too full.

So, feeling rather flat tonight - drained and ready for bed. Hopefully this headache will be gone tomorrow - and hopefully my period doesn't show up either. Tomorrow is 14dpo (or 9dp5dt - did I write it right?). I could succumb to a pee-stick, but I just don't want to waste my money. Besides, an answer will reveal itself one way or another soon enough.

.................................................

And on other news, Mrs Precious had her baby yesterday. She just phoned me to give me the blow by blow account. Just what I needed ... exactly one month before I would have been due.

I wish I was a punk rocker ...

2006-11-07T20:06:00.000+11:00

Reunions are funny things. I think it was interesting and cringeworthy in equal amounts.

The most amazing thing of the afternoon was how many of my ex-classmates had become complete losers!! Or maybe they always were and I just hadn't realised. I has been 20 years since I've seen most of them. The other thing that surprised me as well was how old some of them looked. I always was a bit younger than most of them, but I'm talking months, not the years that some of them appeared. I was a bit frightening really.

But it was funny too. And it was great to catch up with some of my old friends again. Interestingly, the people I felt I had more in common with on Saturday were people I had nothing to do with (and even seriously disliked) when we were at school. Yes, interesting, the passing of time.

In Year 10, I was voted the girl most likely to join a punk-rock band. I was rebellious, subversive and confrontational. I was the somewhat stereotypical arty student who loved the Sex Pistols, wrote poetry and spent all of my time drawing and painting. I was bored with the slow pace of my classes and tried to devise ways to disrupt the lesson as many times as I could. I always received top grades, but I had very little respect for my teachers and authority in general.

Now, I'm a teacher. A coordinator even. I am the position of authority and the irony was a great source of amusement for many of them on Saturday. I was asked by a few, 'why?'.

I thought about it. Why?

I think mainly to be the kind of teacher I wish I'd had. Who understood my boredom and rebelliousness and how it was simply representing the desire of a bright kid to think for herself. To question the rules and analyse their validity before she decided to follow them. And I really do have a soft spot for the naughty kids at school. I look beneath the behaviour and try to figure out the motivation. There are always reasons.

I hope I've been able to help at least ONE of them to feel better about themselves and who they are.

..................................................

And now, news of Bob.

Well, no news of Bob really. Again, it's so hard to tell. I thought my breasts had been a little larger - an little tender - but today, they feel smaller and the tenderness is gone. I have been bloated but it, too, feels like it has diminished tonight. Today, I have been absolutely exhausted and even skipped yoga to come home and have a nanna-nap but tonight, fine again. And crabby, very crabby, although that seems very related to the tiredness.

And that's it. Nothing else and I'm starting to feel that this one is on it's way out as well. I still hoping more than anything that it's not and still doing all the right things in case it has, but I was expecting to feel more by now. Shouldn't I be?

Beta is not until Monday and my period would be due Friday if it comes. I know it will be hard if it comes ... everything seemed to be going so well. And AdventureBoy is so positive. As always.

I wish my body would just agree.

Bits and Bobs

2006-11-03T21:41:00.000+11:00

I have my Year 10 school reunion tomorrow. I'm kind of looking forward to it but I'm kind of dreading it at the same time. The part I'm dreading most of all is the 'kids' question. I know I'll be able to deflect it with the usual 'soon' or 'we're working on it', but I really don't want to even be asked. I don't want to be reminded and I won't want to look at photos of theirs. Maybe I could tell them about Bob? Ask Dr Challenge to send me the photo he took of the screen on Wednesday. There ... that one's mine ... gorgeous, don't you think?

I'm astounded at how paranoid I've become this time. I'm convinced that everything I'm doing is going to be the end.

I walk about 500 stairs a day - that will kill Bob.
I strain every morning because of progesterone blockage - that will kill Bob.
I drank 2 cups of tea yesterday - that will kill Bob.
I haven't been drinking enough water - that will kill Bob.
I lifted my 8-year-old nephew tonight - that will kill Bob.

It's exhausting and consuming.

Actually, that last one has made me really paranoid. Straight after I did it, I realised I shouldn't have. He's really only a skinny little thing, and climbed up onto me while I hugged him goodbye after his birthday dinner, but now I think I've strained myself and I'm cranky at myself for forgetting.

But it's so hard not to keep living your life as well. I know, if Bob were stuck, he'd be in by now, but they all say not to lift heavy objects. And maybe Bob will decide this is not a very friendly place at all and pack up and leave.

Every afternoon, AB asks 'how's Bob?' ... I wish I knew. This is going to be a looong wait - it's only been 3 days and already it feels like forever. I'm searching for symptoms, obsessive boob-squeezing, detailed twinge analysis, nipple checking, everything, even though I know it's too early yet. So much for my casual ambivalence.

I think I'm just raving now. A bit all over the place. A bit unsure. A bit paranoid.

I think I'll just go to bed and give Bob time to rest.

BOB

2006-11-01T10:42:00.000+11:00

Embryo transfer is tough when you have a chicane in your cervix. Every time, I am in agony. This time wasn't as bad as it has been in the past, but it's still not fun.

I suppose it will hurt a hell of a lot more coming out if it works!

So, we transferred 1. Our clinic doesn't provide photos of them, so Dr Challenge took a pic of the screen with his mobile phone and he's going to send it to me. He was in a rather buoyant mood this morning as he just found out he had been accepted into some Rather Important Fertility Gang of Very Important doctors after 2 years of jumping through hoops and lots of hard work. It was hard to keep him down he was bouncing so much - in a good way, of course - he has never been afraid to show his humanity.

The embryo we transferred was the advanced one from the other day. Scientist Supermodel said it looked great and when I asked why it was a funny egg kind of shape (you know, kind of pointy in one part) she said it was getting ready to hatch. Oh. Still an overachiever ... taking it's business seriously ... ready to come and snuggle in ...

Of the other three, one only went to 10 cells although the other 2 are still at the stage of early blastocyst. She said they looked good and by this afternoon she will know whether they will be developed enough to freeze. She seemed confident that they could be. A few hours can make a lot of difference in the life of an embryo.

I'm trying so hard not to get my hopes up. I know the crash is much harder from up high. But I've never had such an advanced embryo as this bubble on board (BOB) and never had enough to even consider the possibility of freezing. Those two factors alone are enough, along with the good fertilization rate, the fact that I have no endo at the moment, that I'm actually feeling pretty healthy (and I've worked out how to make my hair look good with this new cut!). My self-preservation is screaming at me to stop. Stop with the hoping, stop with the dreaming, stop with the thoughts of future.

But it's hard to stop having hope. It's hard to stop wishing for this future. Even though I know I could get hurt, these feelings are out of my control. I know I shouldn't be throwing confidence around like there's plenty to spare. But I do feel I have really studied hard this time. I prepared well, I worked on it every night, I did a few practice tests. I even tried a different routine.

Oh, fuck. Who knows? Will it be enough? Is it my turn in the lucky lottery?

Monday 13th ... I will know.

LATE AFTERNOON UPDATE: I have just phoned the clinic and both of them have been frozen. Cold little bubbles. And now I really can't help but hope ...

Still 4

2006-10-30T22:41:00.000+11:00

They forgot to phone me today. Of course, I went about my day ... calm ... not thinking about it ... barely even remembering I had important news today ... (yeah, right!!!). AB phoned three times until I eventually phoned and got hold of them at the clinic.

I'm waiting to hear from someone, I tried not to whine.
Oh, hasn't Scientist Sparkly called?
Not yet.
Wait on hold while I call them .....

The sound of trashy daytime radio on the other line was torture. My heart was in my throat as I waited for her to return.

...........................................

Finally ... well StellaNova, we've got some good news. We have 3 at 8 cells and one has already started compacting. She said they're looking very good.

Ohhh...

I did a quick backtrack to last cycle. That time, the best one only got to partially compacting - and that was Day 5! This has got to be better.

Thank you, I'll see you on Wednesday.

I know it sounds good. It is good. But my self preservation has deep roots and I am not allowing myself to get too hopeful before we even transfer. I am happy with the news. They are doing me proud. I so wish there was something I could do from here.

I said to AB tonight, maybe we might even have something to freeze this time.
Now that's getting a bit too far ahead.
All we want is one healthy one.

Just one healthy one.

Is that too much to ask?

4

2006-10-28T16:37:00.000+10:00

Don't get too excited until you read the next sentence, but all of the 5 fertilised overnight. One of the 5, however, was a bit of a party egg and decided to invite not one, but three swimmers in to play. That meant that this morning, there she was ... busted ... with four pronucleii as evidence of her indiscretions! The other 4 were well-behaved and modest eggs and looked exactly as they should, ready (fingers crossed) to keep growing and dividing into the future.

Despite the strangeness of the news, however, I feel good about it. Even though there are only 4, it's a far better fertilisation rate than either of my two previous cycles. Only one less than my last cycle (with 10 retreived) and only three less than the first that actually resulted in a pregnancy (and I retreived 13 eggs that time). I'm not entirely sure, but it seems to indicate that the quality of these eggs, whilst smaller in number, are better in quality. Or perhaps I'm just fooling myself. Monday will give me more information to base my decision on.

Tonight, I am supposed to be going to a 30th birthday party of one of AB's colleagues. Really, I'd rather be hibernating at home and catching up on my latest trashy mag stash. It's very cold here today and I think it's meant to be an outdoor event. AB will be in his element and I'll have to stand around with heavy ovaries making small talk while he's off being the social butterfly. He loves a party and, normally, I do also. Today, though, I'm not enthused at all. If it was closer, I would go for a while and then come home, leaving AB to catch a cab, but it's just a bit too far away for that. And even though AB is half expecting me not to go, I still feel like I'm letting him down a little.

So, anyway ... 4 embryos. Not many, but hopefully enough. Part of my ambivalence remains, although I have changed with the news. They're mine. They're ours. I feel protective towards them and I want them to live. I want to check in on them and tuck them in to sleep. To read them a story and kiss them on the forehead as they drift off to dream. I feel for them, all alone in the lab. I want them inside me right now. I want to see them smile.

Should I be a party egg tonight?

More importantly, what have I got to wear??!

Back on line

2006-10-27T17:23:00.000+10:00

Back on line again! This week, my laptop had a meltdown. It actually belongs to my work (lucky!) and the tech people have had it the whole week, copying all of my multitude of files, fixing it up and finally getting it back to me late yesterday afternoon. In the process, they wiped all of my settings and I had to get everything reconfigured again before I could even access the internet. It's been torture (not to mention all of the actual work I didn't get done also).

Egg pick-up was today. It went well, although I am feeling a little disappointed because we only got 5 eggs, even though there had been 10 follicles. Dr Challenge was also a little disappointed as some of the follicles weren't big enough to contain mature eggs (but might have been if we had waited a little longer). So, I have been left with 5. Given my usual pattern, that could mean only half of these will fertilise and then we'll be lucky if even 1 of them makes it.

Scientist Serene told us afterwards that, while she can't be 100% sure until she removes the surrounding cells tomorrow, they all looked mature and a good size and shape. According to her, we could be lucky and all of them will fertilise overnight. Now, I'm not sure if luck shows her face to often in my neck of the woods, but, she just might.

AdventureBoy and I have really been looking after our health this cycle and taking loads of vitamins etc to increase every chance of healthy eggs and swimmers. I don't know if that will make all that much of a difference ... but it certainly can't hurt.

So I'm sitting here feeling a little bit sore, but nothing unbearable (I've certainly had a LOT worse in the past month or so). AB is going to cook me dinner and hopefully be a bit of a slave. I might even watch a movie or two.

I promise I'll get to all of you guys this weekend ... I know I've got LOADS to catch up on.

Ambivalent

2006-10-22T22:15:00.000+10:00

I'm due for my next u/s tomorrow morning. On Friday I had 10 follicles ranging from 8-13mm in size - 4 on the right and 6 on the left. Not bad, considering the recent surgery to remove the endometrioma in the left one - and I only had 4 on the right last time (it's a lot smaller due to the extensive surgery last year). Pick-up is not until this Friday, so hopefully they'll grow to a good size (but not too big) by then.

I don't know how I'm really feeling about this cycle. I forget so often that I'm even doing it. Most evenings, I remember with a jolt that I have to inject myself and I'm really not feeling very much different at all (apart from a bit of big ovary action the past few days). I have almost forgotten each appointment and epu has really crept up on me. I look at my blog and realise 7 days have passed since my last post.

I think the best way to describe it would be, ambivalent. It's not that I don't want it to work. I want it more than anything I've ever wanted in my life. But my naive faith and excitement in this process is gone. And it's almost become part of the routine - it has characterised my year and now it's something that's there / not there. Almost like having brown eyes or being left-handed. It's just something that makes up me. I'm not consciously thinking about it and therefore I forget.

I haven't let it get in the way of work this time. I haven't let it change or influence my patterns or behaviours. I can't dwell on it - I can't afford to lose myself in it again. I don't know if I'll even be as devastated if it doesn't work.

I know that it might sound like I'm not committed enough - like I don't care enough - like I've given up.

I haven't. I think I have simply needed to reclaim myself and my life again. To fight against the highjacking I wrote about last post. To be all of the other things I have spent 38 years becoming. I can't waste all of that hard work.

You all know - the things that were important before all of this. The things that make us rich and full and awesome women as individuals. As we have the right to be. The things that are so easy to forget when we feel that we have failed in something that even the most lowly creature on the planet seems to be able to do.

We were all of these things before IF. We still are.

I can't let it take from me more than it already has.

Used to be ...

2006-10-15T19:01:00.000+10:00

How do we get ourselves back again? After devoting so much of our time, energy, personality and years, will I ever return to me?

I feel like a lot of what is the essential core of me has been hijacked. Of course, to the casual observer, I still seem like me. But to those who know me, the spark has gone. The energy, the drive, the determination, the freedom - not seen in a long time.

I have just sold my apartment that I lived in when I met AB. I kept it when we bought our house and we rented it out for a few years. I liked that I still had it - I always imagined my children would use it as a stepping stone to independence when they first wanted to leave home. But, it made us a lot of money and AB's accountant brother told us it's time to cash in and use the money elsewhere (yeah, like IVF maybe?).

The other day we went out to give it a final clean and change a few light globes etc. before it settled. I had the deepest feeling of melancholoy while I was there that stayed with me all day (and a few after that as well). I regretted selling it and remembered choosing colours, my Dad helping me paint, the wrought iron stair rail that a friend made for me and, most of all, the life I had while I was living there. It was a 5 minute walk to work, to the beach and to town and it was just me and my cat, my work and my friends. I had a busy social life (that I didn't resent), I travelled, I was studying and loving it, as well as work and life in general. I was fit, happy and healthy.

I wasn't infertile.

AB asked me what was wrong, so I told him of my melancholoy. I told him of the me I was then (the one he met and fell in love with) and that I really loved my life at that time. He asked me:
"Don't you like your life now?"
"Not so much," I replied.

I'm not unhappy, but I have no joy. I don't enjoy myself as I used to and I carry this burden with me everywhere. Even when we're not thinking of it, it's always there, isn't it? Even when I'm trying to be normal, it's there. I just want to lose myself in mirth again. To remember the excitement of anticipation and to just be silly.

I fear that it has been lost forever. And I'll be this serious, obsessed, boring person for all who meet me. I wan't to say 'fuck it' and let loose ... have a few drinks and roll around laughing ... to forget about IVF and IF and enjoy my husband, my friends, my family again, rather than avoiding them because it's all too hard.

The only social interaction I seem to be having is inside my computer. Not that I don't appreciate and value these relationships of course, but I miss my real friends as well.

Most of all though, I miss myself.

Keep pushing

2006-10-12T10:53:00.000+10:00

I think I have become rather pushy lately! Last week, during my post-op appointment with Dr Challenge, I discovered that he wasn't going to be around for the day of my proposed egg pick-up, but would be back the next day. Now, he suggested this one in the first place, but he said that he could possibly schedule me for a really early morning pick-up before he went to another hospital for his all-day list of surgery with Dr Charming (the day I would have been waiting for if I had not pushed for earlier surgery in the first place).

I think it sounded like a damn fine idea. One less day off work ... I can even just phone in sick and so won't have to tell them anything ... no need for an extra week on suppression ... no hanging around all morning waiting for others ahead of me ... time to go home and watch the latest batch of movies I have just bought. Perfect all round really.

When I told the clinic nurses, however, of this plan, they were VERY negative and even a little bit cranky at Dr Challenge.

"Well, he can't just make plans like that - there might not be a theatre available".
"Oh" ... deflated ... "he said it would be very early"
"But there might be no one else available at that time to assist".
"Right" ...
"He will have to look into it himself. He is never in on a Thursday - they won't be expecting him".
"But it might work, mightn't it?"
"Unlikely - you will just have to stay on the Lucrin for another week".
"Right" ...
"We'll call him and sort this out".

The end of the phone call left me in no doubt as to what they would be 'sorting out'. Get that Dr Challenge back into his place and tell him when it can happen, not the other way around.

So I sent him an email ... hoping that the Thursday morning would work out, telling him why it suited me better ... telling him I don't want to keep waiting any more ... telling him that he needs to look into it so that we can time the start of my stims appropriately.

His return email was a bit reluctant ... possibly regretting that he had suggested it in the first place ... realising what a big day he had set up for himself. So I was compliant. I understood. I told him I would just have to live with it. It's OK, I said. Whatever suits you best.

And then he replied this morning. Thursday will be fine. Dr Charming doesn't ususally arrive at the other hospital until 8.30am, and we will do our bit before that. I'm not sure what's happening with assistants etc. I'm sure he's covered that. And I replied, can you let Negative Nurses know ... they won't believe me?

Now I know it could all still change again, although after Saturday, if I start stims, it can't. That means EPU will be 26th October rather than the 1st November. Not a big wait, I know. After all the waiting I have done, what's another few days, but I just ned to feel some control. My last 2 cycles were extended by a week and they didn't work (not for long, anyway) - I want this one to be different. I wonder if that is something which has made the difference. And I want less time off work.

But now, it's my sister's birthday today. She will be 36 and we are going out for lunch. I need to finish wrapping her present and get ready. We will be sitting by the water and it's a beautiful spring day ... I think I'm going to have a good day.

Update 2

2006-10-05T21:54:00.000+10:00

Cough, cough, splutter, splutter ...

Of course, to top it off, I got the flu as well!! I'm feeling much better today, but my week has been a shocker. I've barely been out of bed - today was my first venture out of the house (to pick up and sign the paperwork for this cycle). And so tomorrow I will start the Lucrin and be on my way. Pick up should be about the 25th. Although my belly is not really looking forward to more jabbing - I still have stitches in 4 spots, although they are coming out tomorrow.

AB bought me an iPod the other day - to give me something to play with while I've been laid out. I've never had one before and I think I'm in love! It has so much storage space on it (80GB) and I really doubt I'll ever be able to fill it. I have only put about half a dozen cds on it, as well as all of my uni interviews and I want to keep a back up copy of all of my digital photos as well. It's going to be a long term project to get everything onto it, but I'll get so much use from my new plaything. I'm planning to walk to work a lot more, especially now that the weather has started to warm up and, when I'm up to it, walking in general. Lucky, however, I'm still on holidays for the rest of next week as well. Walking to the kitchen has been a challenge this week.

I think that's the only exciting news I have for tonight. I haven't been anywhere or done anything ... although I plan to get to some of those tags tomorrow after my appointment with Dr Challenge. They're probably a bit past by now, but it will give me something to think about.

Mrs Precious wants to visit tomorrow as well - she is now officially on maternity leave - and I'm not sure I'll be able to fob her off (I managed earlier in the week as I was so sick - I even had AB do it for me - but I can answer my own phone calls now). I don't want to see her smug belly and hear about her nursery renovations, but I think I'm going to have to suffer it. You know, I'll probably be able to handle it better now that I'm cycling again. At least I feel that I am doing something and that I have a chance again. I won't be telling her, of course, but that news will at least keep me company.

And it's been such a bonus starting this cycle without any extended lead-up or planning. It feels like I'm half way through already ... and I only started on Monday. Normally, I am thinking about it for weeks before starting the first meds - this way, I'll be on the Gonal next Friday - that's only a week away. It really doesn't seem like a long process when you do it this way. Maybe this is how they should do it all the time - sneak it up on us and then surprise us with a 'start now'.

Yeah, I know, probably NOT. But I must say, it's been a good way to do it.

Update

2006-09-30T20:06:00.000+10:00

Ouch.

Even couch dwelling is painful. And AdventureBoy is my slave once again.

The surgery went well (or so Dr Challenge tells me) and he thinks they have removed all of it this time. So much so that he has decided not to go with a Zoladex and go straight into another cycle (starting this Monday).

The anaesthetic, however, was another story. It was a long operation (over 2 hours) but before I had been taken from the theatre at the end of it, I woke up! My memory of it was as a dream - you know, those dreams where you can't move, can't open your eyes, can't talk - but it wasn't. I thought that I was calling out only in my head, but apparently I wasn't. I still had the breathing tube down my throat and I was trying to pull it out, so they removed it and I was crying about being scared and trapped and unable to breathe. They obvioulsy knocked me out and I woke again in recovery, completely doped up on morphine and such low blood pressure and heart rate that they wouldn't let me back to my room.

Poor AB was waiting in the room for three hours before I was eventually brought back. I don't remember much of any of this, although I do have a recollection of talking to recovery room nurses about having tickets to see Robbie Williams in December. Of course, a vitally important conversation to be having at that point in time!

So I have been rather beaten around by this surgery. And I have been in quite a bit of pain ever since. Luckily Mum has come to stay for a while to look after us.

But Dr Challenge thinks I will recover quickly and the further supression of the Provera and Lucrin will be good. The other doctor he did the surgery with, Dr Charming, suggested that this is what he would do if I were his patient also. Apparently, Dr Challenge always does this type of surgery with this other IVF specialist friend of his from another clinic and discusses the cases while they are operating. I actually feel very confident about this, knowing that I have 2 specialist opinions making decisions about me.

And I'm quite happy not to have to take the Zoladex and start this cycle as early as possible. Monday it is. Which means transfer etc will be sometime toward the end of October (I think). I'm very pleased about all of this and, despite my current pain, I feel good.

Thanks for all of your thoughts and wishes. I may be a little out of action for another couple of days yet, but hopefully will be back on board again soon. Sorry about my lack of comments at your places, but I have been thinking of you all.

And now, my bed beckons ...

The Petulant Foot catches the Early List

2006-09-25T16:30:00.000+10:00

Being pushy obviously pays off.

I'm in for Thursday, so someone's been bumped from the list (sorry for them, really I am, although I'm moving on rather quickly). But I have to start 'preparation' from tomorrow as it is also on my bowel and they will be operating there as well. That means nothing but clear liquid from breakfast tomorrow until I am able to eat after the surgery. I suppose that's a way to drop a few kilos in a hurry!

When not on hormones and medication, I am naturally more prone to the skinnier side of things. During the past few weeks I have been dropping some of the IVF weight without even trying (a very good thing, by the way!). But 3 days without food?! I'll be grumpy, starving and definitely thinner. I won't be able to concentrate on anything and poor AdventureBoy will cop it! I suppose I shoudl give him a bit of pre-warning.

But it's good. Endo will be zapped and I'll have 2 weeks of school holidays to get over it. A shame to waste my holidays, but enforced stillness will be a perfect opportunity to catch up on some movies, reading and, importantly, some PhD stuff. I was going to head off somewhere for a bit of a holiday but home will be good :). I suppose we'll be saving some money ... and we're going to be putting in a new bathroom and a pool before Christmas, so it's all in the interest of better tiles!!!

Now I need to do some work - I'm going to have to cram a week's worth of work into a few days - lucky me. I'd better get to it. Joy.

And a final note ... funny how I can be excited and happy about major surgery - strange and mixed-up priorities in this IF world we have ...

The Endometriosis Merry-go-Round

2006-09-22T10:31:00.000+10:00

So it's back. All over the place, apparently. Enough to warrant further surgery for it's removal. So I have to go in again. Endometriosis is such fun ... or maybe I am, that's why it wants to stay.

But my uterine cavity is 'pristine', as always!

Dr Challenge spoke to me straight after the surgery (I'm actually surprised at how much I remember of this conversation given my heavily doped-up state). He said he wouldn't be able to fit me in again for about 5 weeks. I said (impressing myself in hindsight) 'that's not good enough - I can't kep waiting all this time - and I'm about to have school holidays I can take advantage of for recovery'. He said he would look into it - he had a day next week but it was full - but he'd see if he could postpone anyone to fit me in.

Now, I'm not exactly certain that I will draw the lucky straw on this one, but I'm certainly going to push for it. I can't keep having huge blocks of time off work, even though I have the days (weeks) available. It's too damaging to my professional status (and I need to have something to hold onto) and I really want to save my absences for IVF cycles.

So, I emailed him a reminder and I am going to phone him again soon. You've just got to become pushy in this game otherwise I'll be waiting again until next year and I CAN'T DO THAT! As it is, he will want to put me on Zoladex for one month following surgery and head straight into another cycle (any thoughts from anyone out there who has taken this for endo?). That's November. That's when Mrs Precious is due. Then December. That's when I would have been due. I can't have inaction until then - I need to be pushing forward.

It's in my ovaries again too. Removing that inevitably removes ovarian tissue - and potential follicles. I hate this shit. But if I don't treat it I'll never get anywhere. And that's somewhere I can't even consider.

But the thing that shits me most is, why does it return? What am I doing wrong to invite it back? Why can't it just be gone for good?

I have been dizzy and shaky all morning. I don't know whether it's the after effects of the anaesthetic, the painkillers, or the huge sleep I had last night. I have been doing a great deal of couch dwelling today, although the day is beautiful outside and I think I'll go and be dizzy out there. It's going to be 30 degrees today (that's VERY hot for a September day).

I'll update again after I have spoken to Dr Challenge.

M.I.A

2006-09-17T22:30:00.000+10:00

Not much to say ... not much to see ...

Sorry I disappeared for a while there. I just needed to think about things other than infertility for a while.

You know how it is.

Of course, I know I wasn't at all successful, but I was able to push it to the back for a week. And I felt light again for a while. Still not out of the dark, but in a place that didn't hurt so much.

Because I really was.

The most recent pregnant girl said to me through the course of our conversation, "it's OK to hate me ... I would ... but only for 24 hours. I don't wan't to lose you like Mrs Precious did". I cried. I hugged her. I got myself back together again. And I thanked her. I didn't hate her. How could I hate her? It's probably been the most sensitive delivery of pregnancy news I've had through this whole thing.

But fuck! It still hurt like hell.

At home, I felt empty. I cried buckets that no-one saw, not even AdventureBoy. At work, I threw myself into my classes, my committees, my teams, my committments. I have worked late and then brought more home. I have swapped my bedtime reading from 'Getting Pregnant' to 'Differentiating Professional Development'. I have tidied my study and rearranged the furniture. And all the books on the many bookshelves around my house are dusted and organised according to genre, height and colour (yes, definitely distracting!).

I have been very busy not hurting.

Mostly, it's been working.

But I've also felt another kind of emptiness. I've missed my blog world and all of you. I have only just now had the time to sit and return. I promise I will catch up with everyone again in the next few days. I'm ready and strong again. I can return without dissolving and focussing so much on the hurts.

I have my exploratory lap this Wednesday, so I'll definitely have some more time (and news, and scars) after that. I'll have the rest of the week off and I'm looking forward to the enforced rest.

Thank you to all of your kind thoughts and wishes. I am holding them close and I know that I need to be here. I hope all of your stories are bringing you peace right now.

Hope.

Who am I kidding?

2006-09-08T21:58:00.000+10:00

I think we fool ourselves a lot in this game.

This time, I thought I believed it. I really thought I was OK. I probably was. Things were going well. I have been feeling fine (even if I can't make the haircut look like my hairdresser did).

And then, another piece of news ... another pregnancy ... another friend passing you by ... and any composure you had fought so hard for is gone.

Tonight, I sit here crying again.

The fat drops fall, echoing the falling drops on the window. Red rimmed eyes and a half-hearted attempt at pushing food around the plate. Drain the glass and leave the table, the pressure of normality too hard. A hug feels agressive, unwanted, no comfort, pushed away and another hurt in the air.

Avoid, indulge, turn the other way. Attempt a smile but it fails to land. Try to explain but the language is foreign and the chasm is deep, filled with sharp, pointed spears and the effort seems futile. Retreat to the dark once again.

The dark is comfortable and familiar. A welcome return. The light was too bright and the suffering forgotten. A foolish mistake. It can never be forgotten. It can never be erased. The shadows haunt and beckon. They hold the truth.

Drag the weight along the path of hazards. Trip and stumble, alone. Crumpled and broken, the fat drops fall again, leaving wet holes in the dust of despair. The path ahead in darkness. The path behind, dark too. The only light, a pinpoint of uncertainty. Nothing to grasp or hold.

Hope begins to fade.

Is it time to let go of this dream? It only seems to bring pain.

Step by step

2006-09-03T22:04:00.000+10:00

Work has been getting in the way of blogging and I don't like it!

In the first place I have been so damn busy that I have barely had time to look at blogs, let alone write any posts. AND, they have just updated our security software on our server and it won't let me into any blog sites whatsoever! So the only time available to me is late at night when all of my school work is finished and I'm mostly way too tired to stay focused on a computer screen for too long.

I suppose this is my apology for my absence lately. I have however, through necessity, decided that I need to focus on work for the moment to get it back on track again before my next cycle. Because we all know how off track it's easy to become during cycle time ...

And I met with my suprevisors at uni on Thursday and I have a plan which means I still may very well be able to submit my thesis next year and then be able to finish this PhD and (hopefully) enjoy my pregnancy / baby with it out of the way and a really cool title on all of my mail. It's the time I really need to write (I suppose if I spent as much time on it as I do my blog it would have been finished months ago!). I have gathered all of my data,interviewed my staff and colleaugues, refined my theoretical framework ... I just have to do it ( yeah right - it's just that simple:)).

So, the 20th is fast approaching. I will have some new answers and we might even be ready to start a new cycle once again. I will do everything I can to give this one the best possible chance. And I'll keep planting and planning my garden (just in case).

Yesterday, I had my hair cut. I have been growing it for quite a while now and it was down past my shoulder blades. And I was bored, bored, bored! So I told my hairdresser that I was ready for something new and now it's sitting on top of my shoulders in sharp layers with a long, sweeping, side fringe. I also had some highlights added and I feel like a new person. Literally - I don't look like myself anymore. I look like someone much younger and funkier than me and needed to go out and buy 3 new dresses to match that person. I don't mind her. She smiles more and she looks like she likes herself. I hope she stays.

And now I just need to convince my ovaries that they belong to this younger, funkier chick in the mirror.

New Plan

2006-08-30T20:52:00.000+10:00

I had my appointment with Dr Challenge this evening. Poor love was absolutely exhausted. He had delivered 2 babies today (both IVF babies) and was working late to catch up on all of the appointments he had missed.

And now, a new plan. He knows my reluctance for more surgery, but he is equally reluctant to do another cycle that could be doomed before it begins.

So I guess he wins.

More surgery it is.

But he can't fit me in for a 'look' until the 20th September. I hate waiting. I am such a 'right now' kind of person and my impatience grows with each passing month. And if (when) he finds something, there will be further treatment to wait for. And then, another cycle.

Still waiting, still waiting. I feel like I'll be waiting forever.

If what he finds is mild, he may treat a little there and then and put me on Zoladex before starting the next cycle. If what he finds is extensive, he'll schedule me for a bigger operation and get rid of it all again. And then there will be recovery. And then we cycle again.

I'm really very strongly feeling that all of this won't be finished by Christmas - I won't be smugly rubbing my belly or wondering about the results of a cycle. Another milestone passed, a marker in the history of this process. Another year without the present I crave most. But I don't want to think about that part.

Back to the appointment. I am being sent for another bloodtest as well (Day 3), but it wasn't just all fun and games for me. AdventureBoy is being sent for a new sperm test to see where he's at now. The last one was 2 years ago and wasn't brilliant then. Even though most of the problems are significantly related to me ... he only had 1% normal sperm and not as many of them as would be ideal. Between us, our chances are pretty low without help.

So, we need help, and we'll have to keep using it. Surgery, drugs, injections, acupuncture, herbs, vitamins, everything! My new herbs arrived today and I'm back on the program again (except for the chocolate ice cream that AB bought nome tonight!!!). In this next 3 weeks I'm going to find myself and my body again,ready for more surgery and hopefully recover as quickly as I possible.

My attitude is still really quite positive, despite my impatience. I can't change the process ... I just need to manage it as best I can.

And avoid all of those other pregnant women out there (but not in here of course).

Another one

2006-08-27T20:03:00.000+10:00

It's amazing how it's always there ... so close to the surface, ready to rise up and choke you at any moment. You think you're fine. Mostly, you are. And then, a small piece of information, a group of people, a look, a thought ... and you're gasping for breath and clutching at the walls.

Today we were discussing Mrs Designer Lifestyle. They are very close to us and we have spent many important moments of our lives together. They are one of the few IRL friends we have who know anything about everything that has been going on with us. They met up with us on our honeymoon and she was the most non-precious pregnant woman I have ever known. Baby DL is just 9 months old.

They were supposed to be coming over last Saturday night for dinner and they pulled the pin because she wasn't feeling well. AB is selling their home at the moment and while he was there during the week she mentioned that she was still sick and he said, "you're not pregnant are you?". She replied, "shhh, don't talk about it, I don't want to know about it" and quickly changed the subject.

Now, for Mrs DL, this will be the worst situation she could have imagined. She is not particularly attached to the idea of motherhood, but knew that she at least wanted one to avoid a lonely old age. Just the other week, she said she didn't actually want another one and needed to find a way of breaking it Mr DL who is keen for more. Her career is her life and she has just started feeling that she is on top of it again.

And now, she might have 'accidently' and unwillingly achieved what we all know is the hardest thing in the world to reach. I told AB that I feel sad for me about this, and he told me that was a pretty selfish attitude. Normally, he's a lot more understanding than that, but he said "there are pregnant women everywhere" and I said "yeah, and I can't cope with any of them".

Maybe it is selfish, but it's the only way I know how.

How do we do it? Are we really that strong?

How do I do it?

I can't alienate all of my friends and aquaintances. I will have no-one else around me. It's not the mothers who are bothering me - it's the pregnancies. The hard of dread is pressing on my heart and I don't want it to be true bacuase I don't want to have to deal with it. I wish I could lock myself in a big box until I could come out of it, round bellied and growing, waiting for my own.

This weekend, we went to visit AdventureBoy's brother in another city on the other side of Sydney. Their daughter just turned 3 and while I had a few pangs, I'm really OK with their situation. Envious, perhaps, but on the whole, just part of the family. The pregnant women I saw while we were out for breakfast were much more difficult.

Strangely, however, I don't feel the same way about bloggers who have made it to the other side. It's almost like they have paid their price and deserve to be there. I could in no way resent their pregnancy and I am genuinely happy for their success. I do find it a little hard at times to read about that success and the ongoing experiences that come with it, but I don't resent it or them.

I just resent those pregnancies that happen so easily for everyone else, especially those who don't want them.

When is it going to be my turn?

In which I have to make some choices ...

2006-08-21T21:00:00.000+10:00

I sent this email to Dr Challenge last Thursday:


Subject: Not this time ...

Hi Pretty Boy (AKA Dr Challenge - we are on a first-name basis now),

My period started yesterday, so this one is obviously not going to be
the one. I didn't feel very confident about it, with the delayed embryo
and minimal eggs retreived. So, while I'm not surprised, I am still very
disappointed.

My question for today is, what happens now?

I would like to do another cycle, but you were talking of possible
endometriosis to be addressed. I am really not very keen for more
surgery. What do you think is the nature of this endometriosis? Didn't
you say you removed it during the retreival? Is there another
alternative to surgery? Are you sure there actually is endometriosis?

Sorry, a lot of questions there. I just want this to work, and I don't
understand why this cycle was so unsuccessful.

Thanks for considering these - I'll look forward to your reply.

StellaNova



This is his reply:


Dear StellaNova, I'm pretty disappointed as well but mostly for you two.
Endometriosis can come back. We don't always get rid of it all and we do
believe it influences IVF results especially if within an ovary where
the eggs are made.

Can you ring Lovely Secretary and come in to see me about where to go.  I don't
want to have another disappointing IVF cycle again if endometriosis has
returned; equally the prospect of more surgery is not attractive.
Perhaps the best thing is a diagnostic laparoscopy, assess what's
happening then make decisions. One middle option is to damp down the
endometriosis with an injection (if we find minimal/mild endo) and then
go straight into an IVF cycle.

Either way we have to do something before another IVF try.

Hang in there, regroup, get some energy back and I'll keep doing the
best I can for you both StellaNova.

Kindest regards,

Pretty Boy



Now, neither option is particularly attractive to me. Especially as he doesn't
actually know what is in there. Even exploratory surgery will require anaesthetic
and time off for the procedure and recovery.

But, from what he seems to be saying, there will be no point trying again until
he has a look. I have an appointment to see him next week, but I haven't really
got a plan of attack. I don't know how to approach this and I haven't done enough
research about it either.

So, for now, I'm still feeling ok about everything, but the immediate future right
now is just a little too grey.

The best way to go has not jumped out at me and revealed itself.
It would just make everything so much easier.
What would you do?

Today, I walk just a little bit taller

2006-08-20T22:06:00.000+10:00

Today, we spent all day in the garden again. Last night, I ate soft cheese and drank wine. Right now, I am feeling free of the pressure that is IF.

Funny, I was really worried about how I would react to the negative result of this cycle. In some ways though, it's not too different from any other month where the answer has been no (apart from the copiuos amounts of money thrown at it all, that is). You see blood, you cry, you move on.

It was the actual pregnancy that was taken away that was so much harder to deal with. In a large part, I'm sure, due to the hormones as well, but the hope I thought I had and the future that I had to lose, that was cruel.

I am actually enjoying the freedom of making no plans. Of not needing to ply myself with hormones every day. I am surprised at how relaxed I am.

It may not last, of course. And I will step back onto the tightrope again. But for today, I'm going to enjoy just being a normal human being. Of eating and drinking what I want and having only naturally produced hormones to influence my emotions.

What I feel is that I have a new chance. A fresh opportunity. The opportunity to get it right this time. To prepare as I wish I had before and to (try to) keep my obsession in check.

I am probably being idealistic. Obsession will undoubtedly rear her ugly head. Things will likely not go as smoothly as I would like them to. But I don't have to give up yet. At the moment, I can afford to keep going. I will keep going until it works. I can't give up and this break is not one of denial ... possibly just a little self-preservation.

So, today, I feel taller. I toss my hair over my shoulders and I turn my face to the sun. The warmth is gentle and it teases the corners of my mouth into a smile. The breeze tickles my eyelashes and I plunge my bare hands into the earth. Plants grow around me and delicate smells play with my memories. I close my eyes and I hear the sound of tiny insects. I stand again and I feel that I am growing. Spring is on it's way and my new buds are swelling. The longer days are calling me to flower. I am ready.

Today, I feel good.

A very unwelcome visitor

2006-08-16T19:54:00.000+10:00

There are times that I hate being right.

Today is one of them.

This afternoon, my period started. I had been cramping all day and knew that it was on it's way. There had been no other signs that it was like the cramping I had experienced last time although, until the bleeding, I still had a secret hope. But it was buried deep, deep, deep. Protecting myself.

Lucky.

I don't know how I feel. Flat, sad, resigned.
But I'm calm. I'm thinking about next time. I'm planning for the between times. And I'm looking forward to a glass of wine tomorrow night for FIL's birthday. And then Friday night at a dinner with friends. And then I start getting back into shape again.

I've already started losing a little bit of weight without even trying. I'm going to get fit again and feel good about myself. This cycle didn't go as well and I can't help wondering if it was my physical state that made the difference. So next time, I'm going to give it the best possible chance again.

I wish I didn't need it. I wish this had been the one. But it's not. And there's nothing I can do about it now.

If the magic formula existed, wouldn't we all be using it?

Sorry

2006-08-15T20:30:00.000+10:00

Sorry about yesterday's horribly miserable, negative and self-indulgent post. Please ignore me ... I blame the progesterone!!

I'm still looking for signs ... I'm still getting none. Squeezing, prodding, analysing. It can send you bloody crazy!!!!!!!

I really don't think I was this bad last time. Friday seems so far away. And I'm so busy at work - it's not like I haven't got enough distraction. But it's there. In the back of my mind, in the front of my mind, in AdventureBoy's mind. I'm trying not to think about it, but not succeeding.

I'm even dreaming about it.

Floating, drifting, swimming through thick air. Blinking, blurring, light caught in tangled eyelashes.

Sounds penetrate the haze, delicate, quiet, suddenly loud. Shrilling, trilling. Harsh in gentle ears.

Moving through faces in narrow corridors. Pushing, pulled, drawn in all directions. Answering, questioning, searching, researching.

Swimming back to the beginning. The shadow beckons, a detour. Hands grasp, holding, caressing, pushing.

A lock of hair draped in a moon beam. Clouds part and the black lake glows. Ripples, and the entry is neat.

Floating in the darkness again.

But now, I have to read the Australian NSW Science Syllabus in preparation for a meeting I have tomorrow.

Realism or PCM? And the winner will be ...

2006-08-14T21:13:00.000+10:00

Even though I have convinced myself that there is nothing going in there anymore, I have decided to go it alone on the Crinone ... at least until a period starts or it runs out ... whichever comes first.

But now I've got myself into a bit of a miserable state. I didn't realise how much I had subconsciously thought this one was going to work ... until I have been presented with the undeniable absence of symptoms of ANY kind. Apart from a headache I have had all day today, I feel way too normal to be anything other than negative. My breasts even seem to have shrunk (along with some of my stomach too, I am grudgingly pleased to say). I have had a small cramp in one spot since about lunch time - lower right abdomen - but it's not the kind of pain which means anything. I remember the feeling I am supposed to be feeling from last time.

And that's a big part of my certainty of failure with this cycle. The actual fleeting success I had before has given me so much ammunition for comparison obsession. Tonight, last time, I had strong, painful, period pain type cramps. In the middle of the night I woke up with a painful need to unrinate. My boobs had been bigger and slightly tender. I was sure my period was starting ... but I was at least feeling something.

Tonight ... nothing. And I should be feeling at least a little by now.

I'm very flat about it all. I am so certain. I hate to be so negative ... I'm sorry to all of you who are trying to have hope. I really would love more than anything to welcome her back in, but I think she's busy enough with all of you.

And, whatever has happened has happened. All I can do now is wait. If PCM was ever going to make it she would have by now. She wasn't all that strong to start with ... a bit of a fighter ... but behind the gun.

I'm wishing for her to make it - don't get me wrong, but Realistic StellaNova is winning the race at this stage of the game.

And I think she's got a strong start.

To self-medicate or not ...?

2006-08-13T21:28:00.000+10:00

Well, I'm still feeling no different ... yesterday I kind of thought I was, but today, really nothing more than tired. I had a shocking sleep - I woke up about 10 times - so tired isn't a very surprising state of affairs. Yesterday, my boobs felt slightly bigger, perhaps a little tender, and a 'tight' feeling low down in my abdomen. Although I think I was just trying to convince myself as today the only reason my boobs are sore is because I've been squeezing them so much!!

AB and I spent all day in the garden. We removed a really ugly fence that separates our backyard from the bushland next door and installed some lattice which, while not necessarily more beautiful, allows us to see through to the park and will eventually be covered with the jasmine I have planted along the base. I went to the garden centre and bought loads of gorgeous plants and created a garden along the fence which should look great by the time summer arrives in a few months. My colour scheme is purple, various shades of pink, red and white. This is the 'before' photo, by the way ... I'll post an 'after' when it's looking beautiful.

But now I'm worried I've overdone it in the 'no heavy lifting' and 'taking it easy' departments. It was just such a beautiful winter day I had to get outside and do something. I have been a little bored with so much couch dwelling.

Could I really ruin everything with a day in the garden? I didn't lift anything too heavy - just a few pots and some digging. But I didn't stop all day.

It's so easy to be paranoid.

But, here's the real problem for today ...

Tomorrow, I am due to have the last 2 squirts of Crinone. I have in my possession, however, enough to keep going until next Sunday. They gave me 2 boxes of 15 but have given me instructions to only use them for 9 days. Now, I'm kind of confused about this. Why would they want me to stop? Isn't the purpose of this to provide for me what my body has been unable to produce successfully on it's own? Doesn't my embryo still need it after tomorrow (that's assuming, of course, it's still there)? I hear of so many of you continuing with progesterone until the pregnancy is well and truly established. Is there a valid reason to stop now?

So, my question is, should I keep using it, even though I am not really meant to? I want to give this as much chance as it could have ... could this possibly help? Could it possibly hurt?

It's like a security blanket that I'm not quite ready to give up yet. And I've got the choice this cycle. I've got the drugs!!!!

I could email Dr Challenge and ask him ... but I might not like his answer. And they would know about it with the blood test on Friday if I went alone with my self-medication. Although after Friday, I'll have an answer.

But really, what harm could it do?

Thoughts, anyone ...

A bad case of PBT

2006-08-11T20:28:00.000+10:00

I have realised this afternoon that I have a terrible case of PBT (Pre Beta Tension).

I have woken up in the crabbiest mood two days in a row and I have had the lowest tolerance factor on all sorts of issues that normally wouldn't bother me at all. I have been snappy and critical and I think I have almost been looking for problems so I can get cranky about something.

Poor AdventureBoy ... as much as he also shits me at the moment, he's copping it pretty sweet. He has even apologised for things which have been clearly my fault. Or just me being a bitch.

And I can't stop myself. I can see myself doing it ... I can hear those nasty things coming out of my mouth ... but it's like I'm standing outside of myself watching it all happen. I hate myself for it and I want to do it at the same time. I get some macabre satisfaction out of watching it unfold, then instantly regret whatever I have said or done.

I feel like a freak.
But I think it's progesterone poisoning.
Fucking Crinone!

I'm also miserable, ready to burst into tears at any provocation (even imagined ones).

Physically, however, I feel completely normal.
Boobs ... normal.
Quease factor ... normal.
Pee frequency ... normal.
Cramps ... none.
Sleepy ... nope.

Nothing.

The only thing which is different (and for which I am quite grateful) is that I have completely lost my appetite. All of the previous drugs had made me super hungry and, as much as I lamented the fact, I couldn't stop eating. Now, I am kind of back to my normal (if somewhat lesser) pattern of hunger. Of course my weight hasn't changed at all, but I'm just glad to not be comsumed by thoughts of food so much.

So now, the long, slow crawl until next Friday. That's a whole week away! I don't don't know if I (or AB) can cope with this mood until then. I stop the Crinone on Monday, so that might make a difference to my mood. And if it doesn't, I'll try not to fill my posts with too many progesterone-fuelled ravings ...

I just don't want to wait that long. And I know you ALL understand that feeling!

Fundamentally opposed

2006-08-08T14:54:00.000+10:00

Yesterday, after the transfer, AdventureBoy and I were sitting in the recovery room (me in the reclining comfy chair and he in the standard hospital room chair - as should be!), both staring into space, lost in our own thoughts.

All I could think about was PCM and why this cycle has progressed so differently. Wondering what chance she would have. Thinking about her speedy growth since Saturday and wondering whether that made her a fighter.

I turned to AB at one point, noticing his reverie, and asked mistily:

What are you thinking about?
(expecting some thoughtful comment on the new chance that we had just been presented with)

My 4pm appointment with Mrs and Mrs Cute Old Couple.
(turning to me earnestly)
Do you think you will be finished with Chinese Cutie Punk by then? I don't want to be late for them and let them down.

And there you have it ... the ingrained and absolutely fundamental difference between us and them. The ability to switch in and out at will. The ability to care but not obsess. The brain in which 'other things' take priority. The 'nothing can be done about it now' attitude. The ability to wait with patience.

I laughed. Are you serious?

Surprise in his eyebrows. Why? What's wrong?

Oh. nothing.

It's just, did he have to start thinking beyond it so soon?

PCM

2006-08-07T16:41:00.000+10:00

I'm back. Thanks for all of your encouraging comments. Even though I know they don't change what happens, they certainly make me feel like I'm not alone.

I have an embryo on board, but I'm really not feeling very confident about it. When Scientist Popstar came into our little curtained cubicle, I held me breath nervously. I knew there had to at least be something, or they would have phoned me earlier this morning to tell me not to bother. But I knew, it wasn't ideal.

6 cell had only grown by 1 cell. Both 3 cells had become 4. My heart sank ... 6 cell had been my hope. Then she told me that 4 cell had become a partially compacted morula (that is the stage before blastocyct).

It has caught up a lot, and is only a few hours behind, she said.

But it's not all the way there yet, I grumbled. (yes, I am fully aware how ungrateful I have been)

AdventureBoy held my hand as Dr Challenge arrived. He thought it might have been the endometrioma he drained from my left ovary, disturbing the growth of the follicles. He suggested another laparoscapy if this one doesn't work.

He left and I cried. I don't want any more surgery. I just want a baby.
Poor AB. He is so pained when I am like this. He want to fix it but knows he can't.

So, in we went. Only a small amount of preliminary ski conversation before we were underway. Pain again, almost agony, but quick. He knew what he was dealing with this time and it was all finished in about 10 minutes. PCM (Partially Compacted Morula) was on her way and I crossed my fingers tight. I sooo hope she likes the decoration.

But she's only partially compacted. She's a few hours behind. And I'm feeling very apprehensive about any chance of success. I've even started planning for how I'm going to approach the next attempt. About how I'll need more time off for more surgery. About the fact that 38 is slipping by and this is my last chance for a baby before 39.

I told all of this to Chinese Cutie Punk when I saw her for some needling straight after the procedure. She calmed me down. She sent me to sleep. She really was wonderful. And AdventureBoy and MonkeyBoy were waiting to take me home when I was finished (my sister is working late tonight).

And now MonkeyBoy is harrassing me with "I'm hungry!", calling from in front of the open fridge door. I had better go and feed him.

Am I just the Queen of justification?

2006-08-06T20:35:00.000+10:00

I really didn't want to post yesterday. I didn't know what to think about the call. I'm not sure I do now. I've been feeling a bit miserable about it since then.

I was anxiously waiting for it all morning and Scientist Misty didn't end up calling me until 2pm (even though she actually checked them at 7am). Without wanting to acknowledge it to myself, I was totally beside myself by that stage of the afternoon. Last time they had phoned me by 10am and there were a lot more to be excited about.

This time, the news did not excite me at all. Without the previous one to compare it to, I might not have been so disappointed. But last time there were 8 with 3 of them bigger than the biggest I had yesterday. She told me that there was 1 at 6 cells, 1 at 4 cells, 2 at 3 cells, and one had completely given up the ghost and stopped dividing altogether.

Oh, right, I mumbled.

So there's at least one that looks like it will be right on track for Monday, she perked.

I hesitated.

Is everything alright?

Well, I'm actually a bit disappointed with that.

Oh, don't be. It looks like a good embryo. And I checked it very early this morning.

It's just ... not as good ... as last time.

A lot can happen in a couple of hours you know.

But why hasn't it happened already?

OK, so here's the justification bit: this retreival was about 2 hours later than the last one, and they checked them about 2 hours earlier than last time ... that's 4 hours! That's a long time in the life of an embryo, right? A lot can happen in those few hours, like a couple of more cells perhaps?

I keep replaying this information ... justifying, questioning, bargaining. The difference is in the timing, not the quality of the embryos. Isn't it? Everything will all be good on Monday. There will be something to transfer ... right? I have to trust that they know what they're doing, don't I?

They didn't suggest that I'd have nothing to transfer on Monday, but I'm worried. Why isn't this cycle responding as well the last one? What have I done differently? What have I done wrong?

Tomorrow is transfer day. I go in at 12.30pm. It will hurt because I have a twisted cervix. And I don't know if there will be any bubbles left by then.

Please, let there be at least one.

4 Things

2006-08-04T17:35:00.000+10:00

Not much going on here really. They don't check on my bubbles until tomorrow morning and transfer is on Monday. Thalia asked if I would be taking them all to blast - that's standard procedure at my clinic, unless tomorrow's checking doesn't look so good and they will call me in then to whip them in straight away (or perhaps, glide them in gently, or torture my twisted cervix- take your pick).

I'm nervous but not thinking about tomorrow's call. I'll just have to wait and see what happens from there.

AB and I have been invited to a wine evening tonight with Mr and Mrs Designer Lifestyle. I'm excited to be going (although won't be actually drinking anything!) but I am absolutely MISERABLE about the fact that none of my clothes fit me. Clothes that were fine just a few months ago are unable to be done up and I feel like a overstretched sausage in all but my track pants. It's DREADFUL! And I can't believe how fast it has happened. These hormones (injected and the natural ones from the pregnancy) really do have an impact. If this cycle doesn't work I will be seriously having a break to get myself physically and emotionally back in shape again.

But now, the 4 Things tag:

4 jobs I have had in my life:

Bank Teller - when I first left school I worked in a bank for 2 years before I went to uni. I was only 17 and really wanted to earn some money and prepare my portfolio for my application to uni (I studied Fine Arts and Education).
Door Chick - while I was at uni I had 2 jobs - in one of them I worked at a local pub that had bands and I used to have to take money and stamp the arms of patrons. I also used to have to check for ID and had my friendly Maori bouncer, Monster, beside me to turf them out if they didn't toe the line.
Department Store cashier and sales - this was my other uni job. I was in what was known as the 'Flying Squad' (wanky name, very Top Gun, I know) and got to work in a different department each shift. I used to LOVE the toy department.
Teacher - this has been my job now for the past 16 years (OH MY GOD!!). I have moved from being a visual arts/photography teacher to teaching sociology, history, english and geography. I love this as I have learned new stuff with each new subject I have taken on.

4 movies I watch over and over:

The Rocky Horror Picture Show - my sister and I used to watch this obsessively when we lived together during uni. We used to dress up and test new boyfriends by their ability to cope with us dancing around the living room.
The Castle - wouldn't truly be understood by anyone who wasn't Australian. Full of dry, 'ocker' humour and quite a few phrases which have made it into the speech patterns of quite a few of my friends. "Tell 'em they're dreaming ..."
Shrek - not by choice (even though I think it's hilarious) but we teach this as an animation study to Year 7 English. I watch it is whole and then in several parts about 20 times each year.
Moulin Rouge - the theatre, the costumes, the sets - it's like an artwork come to life and I love it. The singing is OK too, but it's really the visual of this movie that I love so much.

4 places I have lived:

Sydney, Australia - I have lived in about 15 different places in Sydney which is where I was born and raised.
Small city, not far from Sydney - I moved here after my divorce and met AdventureBoy (after a bit) and have been here ever since (sorry I couldn't be more specific, but I really don't want any accidental browsers to make any connections).
I also spent a few months of every year in Byron Bay while I was with the Wrong One. His mother had a holiday place up there and I would go there every uni and then school holiday for nearly 10 years.
That's it, but maybe I could share a few of AB's? He has lived in London, Meribel, Corsica, Turkey and Sardinia), as well as being born and raised and then returning to small city of point 2.

4 TV programs that I love:

Northern Exposure - I know it's not even on air anymore, but it's one of my favourite programs ever. I have the first 3 seasons on DVD and watch at least one episode every week.
24 - that one's AB's fault. I never would have started, but it's so damn addictive. We have just finished the current season here and it's so set up for another one. More late nights!
Big Brother - yes, I know it's daggy, but I watch it every year without fail. I started watching it in the first year with Year 12 Society and Culture and have been stuck with it ever since.
Doc Martin - set in a gorgeous small English seaside village with a grumpy doctor who hates everyone. Similar in some ways to House (which I also love).

4 places I have been on vacation:

Canada - I spent a month skiing in Whistler with the Wrong One. It was beautiful and fun and I loved every bit of it. It is the only time in my life that I actually had a washboard stomach ... ahhh ... those were the days ...
Italy - again, with the Wrong One (the first time, anyway). We spent 6 weeks there living with various member sof his family in Rome, Ferrara, Castelfrentano and Sicily. I could live there without hesitation. I love everything about it.
Malta - my mother is Maltese and we went there a few years ago when I was on my own. It was a great trip, and I left them and went to Paris for the third time to spend a week on my own.
Meribel - AB and I went there for our honeymoon. This is where he lived for 6 years during winter seasons and it was so much fun revisiting his past (and getting a few weeks of skiing in the process). Mr and Mrs Designer Lifestyle met us there as well and it is still the source of many memories and stories today.

4 websites I visit daily:

My school site - links to classes, email, activities etc.
Lots of blogs - I love you guys ...
Uni - to check on lots of stuff there, as well as the Library databases which are my best friends!
aaahh ... depends on the day ... the bank, ebay, other shopping sites etc.

running out of time now ... gotta get ready for night out ... eek ...

4 of my favourite foods:

Organic vegies from my garden - I love the taste, the smell, the concept - all of it. Nothing can compare to a meal prepared by me from seed to table. At the moment, I am in a snow pea glut, so plenty of stir fries and they're also delicious straight from the plant.
Yoghurt - I make my own yoghurt as well (I not a total hippy, but I love being in control of my own food). I like it best with a passionfruit squeezed into it ... mmm ... yumm ...
Plums and mandarins - when we were kids we had two plum trees and a mandarin tree. I used to spend hours sitting in the biggest plum tree, reading books and eating enough plums to make me sick. To this day they are still my favourite fruits and I buy them in bulk whenever they are in season.
Dark chocolate - the bittersweet, the texture ... I think I'm drooling now!!

OK - now I've really run out of time! I'll have to add to it tomorrow morning. AB will be VERY cranky if I'm late.

Right - I'm just home now - it's about 1am - but I wanted to finish this (how's that for dedication?).

4 places I would rather be right now:

In bed ... just joking ... in a labour ward, having just given birth to my healthy baby bubble. Everyone is crowding around me with tears and hugs and you are all there too. :)
Back in Paris. I would visit the galleries every morning and do something constructive every day. I would cook, would read, I would study, I would love. Oh, a wonderful place to be.
It's a hard question this one... I love where I live ... but I wish things were different. All of my 'would rather be's' involve the family I don't have yet.
Skiing somewhere. Somewhere cold and frosty and where I need to wear warm woollen mittens. Winter is truly my favourite season.

4 favourite band / singers:

I think I will do this in categories as ther are so many different bands that I like - the first will be the 'old guard' - the music I used to listen to when I was younger - Jane's Addiction; The Ramones; Placebo; REM; Concrete Blonde; Sonic Youth etc. - I have seen all of these bands on tours to Australia and I feel inredibly old about some of them!!
What my sister calls the 'strum strum' boys - Jack Johnson; Eagle Eye Cherry; Dave Murray; Ben Harper etc. - good, beautiful listening (and not bad to look at either).
The chicks - Norah Jones; Ella Fitzgerald; Billie Holiday; Courtney Love; Missy Higgins; Nina Simone; Edith Pfiaf; Aretha Franklin.
All jazz and blues and the occasional classical tune. I don't know enough to know who it is that I like, but I know that I like it.

4 people I would like to tag:

As I am not sure who is interested or already been tagged, I will nominate the following, but all, please join in if you are looking to fill in time:

If you don't feel like joining in, don't stress. Do what you can, if you wish. If I haven't named you (and really, it's just because there's so many of you) please feel free to play. We all need the distraction sometimes.

By the way ... I had 2 glasses of wine tonight and I feel rather tipsy. It's amazing how abstinence can affect you as well.

Goodnight. :)

The Call ... and then a rant

2006-08-03T11:01:00.000+10:00

I have just received The Call. When the phone rang my heart jumped into my throat, beating insanely and threatening to choke me. I could barely croak 'hello'.

Saint Anne first prepared me with the fact that 3 of the eggs weren't actually mature.
Right, I thought, down to 7.
But the good news, she said, is that 5 of those have fertilised.

Sigh.

The ratio is good - great even - a shame there weren't more of them. But 5 is 5 and I am hoping, wishing and praying for them to grow in their warm, dark dish.

Please kids, your father and I really want to meet you. We have been waiting so long for you. We love you.

I am right now also sending my uterus cosy thoughts. Make like a duvet, enrich yourself with warmth, be ready .. you know, that kind of stuff .. I feel like a bit of a dill about it at times but I can easily become a sentimental, superstitious mess right now. I think it's only temporary.

Scientist Misty will call me on Saturday with updated report. Last time, I didn't know what I was waiting for. I was kind of happily naive in my oblivion. Now, I know how much is riding on it. That some might drop off along the way. That Monday is far away in the life of a tiny embryo. That all I need is one. That what I want is 5.

Monday seems a long way to me too.

And now, for my rant. As is my privilege on a post-procedure, couch-dwelling day, I get myself a little stash of the latest trashy weeklies. I don't read them at any other time - mostly because they shit me to tears - but I bought some on Tuesday afternoon in preparation for today.

The first article in one of them is about Princess Mary (you know, Aussie girl marries Danish prince, set to become Queen, friend of AB's cousin). Anyway, the focus of this article is her apparent infertility. What the ...?!! It seems that she has been trying now for THREE WHOLE MONTHS and has not yet become pregnant.

The tragedy!

Of course, the article emphasises that she just needs to 'relax' because she is so 'stressed' (I wish I had so much stress - and a wardrobe to match). Then it will just happen (a bit like a bus, really!). She is even quoted as saying she "needs a miracle".

What she needs is a fucking reality check!!! Her child is only 9 months old and she fell pregnant first time with him. If she thinks she has reached 'crisis point' now, pity her if she actually does suffer from REAL infertility.

But with an unlimited budget and the luxury of never needing to work, I'm sure her experiences would be VERY different to any of ours if she ever had to go down that path. She has been flying to London to consult with fertility specialists because her THREE MONTHS of hope have started to fade.

Try YEARS honey, then you'll actually know what it's all about. Then you'll see that Hope packs her bags, gives you the bird and hauls her arse out of your life!!

Sorry .. my rant got a bit carried away there. I actually don't mind her usually. I think she is pretty down to earth and AB's cousin says she is a lovely person. But infertile, with a naturally conceived 9 month old?

I think not!

10

2006-08-02T21:53:00.000+10:00

Today there were 10.

It's better than 6 (as the ultrasound indicated) but not as good as 13.

I know, I know ... ungrateful cow. There are some who don't get anything and all it will really take is one. I was just hoping this would be as successful (well really, hopefully more) as last cycle. And I would love to have some left over for freezing.

But I really will be happy with just one healthy, happy embryo which becomes one healthy, happy baby.

Scientist Pop Star, however, told me that only 8 of the 10 retreived looked mature enough to be fertilised. If we have the same rate of fertilisation as before, that means only 4 or 5 will fertilise (and even that's a maybe). Last time, 8 fertilised.

How far will they go then?

Control. I have read so many posts by others about control (or the loss of control) that this process brings. I wish I could force these results. Ensure success. Make it all work.

The numbers game. I am now another step up the ladder. Each time brings me closer to winning the battle against the laws of probability. I have to put faith in that. It's the only way that I can keeping hoping for that positive result.

To keep wishing on that star.

I'm still feeling a bit drowsy now... I will post my results tomorrow when I get 'the call'. I am so nervous about that call. The rest of my day will hinge on that call ... potentially, the rest of my life.

The end is still darkness

2006-07-31T21:49:00.000+10:00

Thunk.

Whirrrrrr .....

Buzz ...

The switch is flicked and I blink into the blinding light.

I cannot see a thing, but the weight is heavy in my hands. It rolls gently over my palms and I notice I am sweating.

It's slippery, a voice whispers in my ear. Don't drop it.

I glance around but all is darkness or blinding light.
I am alone.

The rope stretches out ahead of me. A single line lit up through the darkness. Stretched taught, disappearing into the black. The end is unknown, but I know I have to step out anyway. I close my eyes. Maybe it will be easier this way.

I can't.
A deep breath. I open them again and reach my foot out into space. The crowd gasps below me, but I can't see any of them. Their hushed whispers unnerve me, and I am not sure if I can do it anymore.

Another whisper, it's the only way. I sigh. I know the truth.

I slide my foot along the rope. It feels familiar under my sole. My balance is steady and I step my other foot from the safety of the platform. I know the net exists below me, but I can't see it, I don't want it. I have fallen into it gratefully before. It has saved my life. This time, I want to make it all the way.

I am confident now. My movements are slow and sure. The light still blinds but I think I know the way. Before I realise it, I am close to half way. I think I can perceive the other platform in the darkness, but I really can't be sure. I have been fooled by my illusions before.

But there's only 6! - the others are too small, a voice calls from the crowd. Last time there were more.

I waver, unsteady, unsettled by the call. I know there were more last time. I know. Will 6 be enough? I churn inside and my feet start to shake the tension of the rope. Another gasp from the crowd. I could fall at any moment.

But I don't. Droplets of sweat bead my forehead. Droplets of blood bead my arms.

A small voice drifts thinly from the other, still invisible platform.
I'm here, it calls. I'll always be here. I can't walk this for you, but I'll wait.

And now tears cloud my vision. The lights dissolve into glistening stars.
I have to keep going - I don't know how to go back.
I inch forward again. Alone, not alone. Hope in one ear, Tomorrow in the other. Arms and nets waiting below and a quiet voice waiting in the darkness.

Forward is the only way.

Weekly Review

2006-07-30T22:40:00.000+10:00

Our musical is finished (it was a great success). I actually enjoyed it (as I do each year) and I got to forget about IVF for a little while (unless, of course, you count trying to secretively give myself 3 injections in the make-up room toilet in between the matinee and evening show yesterday). We hold our show in a local theatre and myself and my friend Fifi are the make-up artists. I love working with the kids in this context and I get to meet alot of them who I've never actually taught before. This is where I was being picked up on Friday night and was late for AdventureBoy.

AB and I are good again. Our fights never last long and we don't have them very often, but they're always big when they arrive. I actually sent him that letter yesterday at work and he went out to his car to phone me, crying. But he really did hurt me with his comments and inconsistency. I absolutely KNOW he is trying his hardest, but it is easy for him to forget at times.

My Principal was at our musical. She was backstage during yesterday's matinee and was kind of nice to me. That doesn't come very easily to her and I was a little surprised by her gestures.

I don't know if it was a result of our meeting on Thursday - I was so uncomfortable about sharing my information with her. I felt, and told her, vulnerable in divulging. I started by letting her know that, like her, I hated to appear weak, but I may cry through the course of this discussion. I explained how protective I was of my experiences, but it was time to share. How I didn't want her to judge my professionalism. I didn't tell her everything, of course, but I told her about the long awaited pregnancy and the miscarriage and my desire to keep trying. About the fact that I still valued my career. That it could take me a while and I didn't want her to overlook me as a result.

And she thanked me for sharing the information.

I think she felt trusted, but it was for my professional protection that I shared. However, her demeanour toward me certainly changed immediately. I knew she had been questioning my focus, and her reaction confirmed it for me. She was almost relieved. She even hugged me as I left. Great.

I still don't think it was a great meeting. Not that it didn't go well, but I would really have much rather kept it to myself. Even though I can see how much it will help, I feel angry that this IF shit has taken away my ability to maintain privacy. If I was just a normal fertile I wouldn't have to say anything for months after the act. Here, I have needed to say something months, potentially years before. And that's assuming it will work at some time.

And, on that front, next bloodtest and ultrasound tomorrow. Most likely trigger tomorrow night and retreival on Wednesday. My ovaries are definitely growing more each day, causing twinging pain and an uncomfortable fullness. I need to keep drinking lots of water, but I forget. And tonight was the last glass of wine until my beta (and hopefully beyond).

Mmmm ... that was just a bit too much flippant hope exhibited there. You've got to be careful where you throw that stuff around.

People can get hurt with that.

A letter to AdventureBoy

2006-07-29T10:24:00.000+10:00

Dear AB,

When I said this morning that this cycle is really affecting me, I was mainly talking about physically. I am very drained and tired - more than a good sleep can fix. I am bloated and sore and I have been having a lot of cramps and nausea in the past few days. The needles seem to be hurting more than before and last night I had to start a third injection - that's three every night. I have put on even more weight and at this point there is nothing I can do to shift it. My skin has become very dry and I have had almost constant coldsores since I began. I have also had alternating constipation or diarrhea.

When I say that I am feeling shit I am not exaggerating.

Emotionally, I am just drained. I am not feeling particularly hormonal and if I'm short, it's because I do not feel well and I'm very, very tired. I am also anxious, but that started before the drugs. I am worried that it won't work. I am scared that we'll have to do it again. I'm scared that we'll run out of money.

When you say I was more affectionate or whatever last time, it's because I was excited. I was hopeful. It was all new. This time, it's none of those things. It's just painful, uncomfortable and I am completely aware that there are no guarantees. It might not work and we are no further along and I am just getting older.

I am somewhat depressed. Not because of the hormones. But because I'm fat, broke, professionally worn out and we have no baby. That's what is getting me down. All of those things.

Don't brush me aside because 'she's just hormonal'. That's a cop-out. I am more than just hormones. And I really need to feel that I have your support. Last night, I was looking forward to just lying on the lounge with you for a little while before I went to bed. We haven't had a good talk for about a week. I actually missed you.

And I was late because I was working. You have done that to me COUNTLESS times. Even last week, I was standing on the street, with a computer on my back, alone in the dark waiting for you to meet me for dinner. You got caught up with a call before you left the office. You took it. You didn't call me. You were late.

And I didn't complain.

It goes both ways and I would have appreciated ... no, expected ... your support last night. It was work and YOU will always prioritise it in those situations. I was rushing to get out to you. I didn't even know if you had your phone (often you don't). I appreciated you coming to get me, I appreciated the fact that you came early, but I didn't keep you waiting those 5 minutes for the fun of it. I was working.

And, it was only 5 minutes.

AB, I don't want this to become a continued battle. I (we) have a big week ahead and we need each other. I have a lot to do before I take 5 days off work. It's bad timing but I have no choice. I need to be able to count on you, lean on you, cry to you.

Please don't judge and condemn me at a time I most need your understanding.

I love you.
I need you.

Please be there.

StellaNova

Quick update

2006-07-28T11:06:00.000+10:00

As I won't be at home to write again until Sunday (not with enough time to, at least), I am posting from period 2, just back from my ultrasound.

I have 5 follicles on my right ovary and 10 on my left. Last time there were none retreived from my right and only 3 really small follicles before hand. So I guess I'm feeling pretty good about the fact that they've decided to play again. They are all of a reasonable enough size to keep maturing, with about 4 all up not likely to get there. I didn't take note of all of the sizes as I think Monday is more important for that for me.

There is, however, a 2cm endometrioma on my left ovary, but Very Nice Nurse said that it was not in a place to be worried about. So I'm not worried.

I have to write more about how yesterday went with the Principal. It was OK, although I still really wanted to keep it private, I know that it will make things easier that she knows somethng (not all by the way - an edited version of the truth). Opening night was good - make-up was fine - and right now, I'm exhausted (I'm sure, a combination of many elements).

Period 3 bell has gone now. Gotta go ...

Even bigger dilemma

2006-07-26T22:14:00.000+10:00

I went to see my Deputy Principal today to ask her for more leave for next week. She is the only person at school (other than one close friend) who knows anything about what I have been going through.

And I really wanted to keep it that way.

She's happy to keep my secret for me, but she suggested that for my own professional appearance, I really should tell my Principal as well.

Now, I don't feel particularly close to my Principal, even though I have to work quite closely with her at times. I don't entirely trust her and I am not sure how she will see this in terms of my career. I know I am planning to take time off work once I actually have a baby, but if this takes a lot longer (which it very well could), how will her knowledge of my plans impact on my professional standing? Will she start to perceive me as time-framed ... no point considering me for long-term projects as I may not be there? Enforce the ceiling as they can't afford for me to be off with maternity leave?

The problem is, I know my Deputy Principal is right.

Last term was really a shocker for me (emotionally, physically, some aspects of professionally) and I know she noticed it. I know she has been questioning my lack of focus. We have met about things I know I have let slip. I know I don't want her to this perception of me and it makes sense to fill her in a little.

But what do I tell her? I can't actually tell her about the IVF as I'm at a Catholic school and it's a sensitive subject amongst Catholic viewpoints. I don't actually know her personal opinion, but it's a little like pre-marital sex and taking contraceptives. Don't talk about it and you can't be judged.

So, I tell her about the pregnancy last term. I tell her about the miscarriage. I will have to tell her my intentions to continue trying ... but how do I explain the time needed? I told my Deputy I had recurring ovarian cysts (which is kind of what those follicles are really), but my Principal used to be a nurse. I'm not sure if she'll need more or know more.

And I really just don't want to be that vulnerable with her. I don't trust her not to use it against me. And I just don't want to be weak. I'm so protective of this experience, the last person I want to share it with is her. But I will have to.

Fuck.

I am trying to look at the possible positive outcomes. Perhaps it will help her understand my state of mind and health last term. Maybe she will actually show some compassion. She's not so good at that, but it must be in there somewhere. I have other important things to discuss with her too, so I will discuss those with her first. But I know I'm going to cry. I don't want to so badly ... but I don't know how to stop myself.

So that's my plan for tomorrow. In between Year 8 History, Maths exam supervision, a counselling meeting with a student and another meeting with one of my staff, I will spill the beans. At some point in this day I will cry and at some other point, someone I speak to will. After school I will go and pay for my cycle and tomorrow night I will go and paint faces for the opening night of our school musical.

I really don't think I'm going to like tomorrow too much at all. It's going to be a very emotionally difficult day and I will have to be excited and bouyant for the students and their opening night.

I wish I didn't have to do this.

Obsession time?

2006-07-25T21:04:00.000+10:00

I love my Chinese Cutie Punk. She reminds me of one of those dolls on a stick we used to be able to buy at the Royal Easter Show (annual Aussie fair type event - Sydney in fact). She is so excited to be treating an IVF patient and every time I visit her she has new information or new techniques to use on me. She has even made special appointments with me after hours to make sure she can treat me to coincide with my treatment cycles. I'm not entirely sure if I think it is going to make a difference, but I'm happy to be trying.

It can't hurt.

Oh well, as much as sticking multiple needles into your body can't hurt, that is.

I had my blood test this morning. No drama, no hiding veins, straight in and out. Easy (unlike my last dreadful experience). I spoke to a new nurse at the fertility clinic and she told me that things are going well. Continue what I'm doing and the ultrasound will be on Friday morning. She told me some numbers as well, but I don't know enough to completely know what they mean. Even Dr Google hasn't helped. They are oestrogen 992, progesterone 1, fsh 17.

I'm kind of nervous about the ultrasound. Last time, there were enough follicles to do ok ... but what if this time there are less? I can still feel them growing, but will they keep going without the obsession I devoted to them last cycle? This time, I keep forgetting about them. I have been so busy at work (and will continue to be) that retreival day seems to be sneaking up on me. I'm worried I'll forget about it in the day!

Well, maybe that's going a bit too far, but you know what I'm saying.

Maybe I might start obsessing again ... it's getting about time.

Dilemma

2006-07-23T22:04:00.000+10:00

Every Sunday night my sister and her son come for dinner. They only live around the corner from us and we really enjoy the opportunity to spend time with my nephew, MonkeyBoy, who is now 9 years old.

They have just left and now we are in a dilemma. She has found herself a new man (well, a boy actually - he is 6 years younger than her - not that there's anything wrong with that!). We have met him a few times and she brought him around tonight as well. He is pleasant, he is good to her and her son, he is fine.

But he is dull, he is quiet, he is nervous and he is passive. He would rather watch tv than communicate.

The absolute and complete opposite to my sister.

I know that you don't have to be the same to be compatible, we certainly aren't. But AdventureBoy and I both feel that he is not the one for her. And she is very convinced that he is.

I've not really written much about my sister either. She is 2 years younger than me and it wasn't until we were in our early 20s that we started to become friends. And whilst we frustrate the shit out of each other at times, we are very close. We have already decided that we are always going to live within walking distance of each other. She is a clever woman with a lighting fast wit, although she has never been able to recognise her intelligence. We are able to bring out the ridiculous in each other and we love nothing better than to live a life of word games. Last year, we spent 4 weeks only speaking to each other in cliches ... we give each other challenges to be able to somehow record phrases or words in our team minutes of our meetings and show them to each other. We share books and read each others words (except these - I could never show her these).

It might seem strange that I share everything with her but not this ... I don't know if I can explain that really ... I'll have to think on it. That will be a whole post on it's own.

But anyway, our dilemma. I don't know how to tell her what my instinct is saying. I've heard it for long enough now to know that it's usually right. And the fact that AdventureBoy feels it too, well that's enough for me. Maybe I don't tell her anything. Maybe I wait until it ends ... or doesn't!? Is it my place to say?

I don't know if it is. At the moment, he's making her happy. But I know her enough to know that it won't stay that way. His timdity and reticence will frustrate her. She will want him to make decisions and he won't. She will want him to have drive in his career and he doesn't. They have only been seeing each other for 6 weeks, and we all know how it is in the beginning! And then, I could be wrong. Maybe he is right and I've misjudged.

But my instinct keeps yelling at me.

But what would I know? I married the wrong one before this one.

And so did she. And now she's desperately looking for happiness. She wants a father for MonkeyBoy and someone to keep her company when she wakes up in the middle of the night. AdventureBoy and I are always there, but I know we're not enough. MonkeyBoy loves us (he even asked to stay here tonight when they were leaving) and we have a lot of fun making a difference in his life.

But should I challenge her happiness?

And do I have the energy?

My time is so taken up with my concerns and dealing with all of this ... I should just leave it. But then I'll feel guilty if it doesn't work for her (or guilty if I say something and it doesn't?!). Maybe I should give him a little while longer to warm up a little? I've never been a shy or reserved person .. it might be that I just don't understand him ... I just don't know how she can ... she's far more outgoing than me.

But anyway, back to the BIG OVARIES. I can feel them growing. Honestly, before all of this, I really couldn't be sure exactly where my ovaries were. Now! Now, there is absolutely no doubt. I can feel them, especially when I'm in bed, laying on my side and rolling over. They're not too bad yet, but I can feel them growing.

Come on babies ... go, go, go! Grown and ripen and be healthy and ready for my retrieval on 2nd August.

It seems a long way away because it's another month, but it seems so close as it's only one and a half weeks away. I have so much pinned on my desire for this to work. I don't want to have to do it again (although I know I will do it as many times as it takes). By mid-August I will know and I'm terrified of the answer. At least on this side, it's still maybe ...

Please, I hope it will work ...

Bad Day

2006-07-20T21:54:00.000+10:00

Every year, we have Grandparents Morning for Year 7. There are performances and tours, morning tea and speeches and at the end, the girls all give their grandparents a gift they have made for them. It's a lovely, heartwarming family event and it happened today.

And there were tears at the back of my eyes for a large part of it. I don't know whether it's the injections or just my general feelings about this whole infertility thing ... but I was fighting them for most of the morning. I kept thinking that maybe, this might not ever be mine. I wanted it. I wanted to be able to know the pride and joy that was so evident amongst these people. Two of our staff were also grandparents and I have known these people for so long and never seen them so full as when their grandchildren came to shower them with warmth and hugs.

For a wonderful event, it gave me a really bad start to my day. I have been snowed under at work since I returned from holidays in preparation for a departmental school inspection (all of the documentation is due tomorrow). I just finished my last bits then (explaining the lack of writing this week). After that, I got a letter from my principal putting a particularly negative spin on a meeting we had last term. Before I knew it the day was over and I still hadn't finished half of the jobs I had needed to do.

But I had to go as Saint Anne was expecting me - I picked up my mighty Gonal-F pens and a special little package for AdventureBoy. He was rather excited about his present when I gave it to him.
When do I need to fill it?
Not until the 2nd August ...
(and I started on the 29th June).
Another little dig that didn't help my day at all.

And I absolutely DO NOT recognise this body that I now have to call mine. I tried to buy some clothes today after seeing Saint Anne and nothing fits! I look terrible and all of my underwear now digs into my flesh. I have never had to worry about my size before and have always been a pretty standard size 8 (Australian) all of my adult life. I was SO miserable in the change room and didn't want to buy anything. There are parts to my hips now that I can't even fathom and the experience firmly entrenched the bad day even further.

I hate that this happened to me on top of everything else. I can't even feel a little bit normal - I'm down to only a minimal wardrobe that I can wear and I know I look different too. Usually, a couple of weeks of walking will make a dent in it, but not this time. I feel like I've even grown. Surely that can't be the injections having such an extreme effect this time?

So there's another mopey one ... I don't like to feel like a whinger all the time. I promise a more positive post next time. I need to for my own sake.

And I do have something to look forward to in the next couple of weeks ... BIG OVARIES!!!

Homesick

2006-07-15T15:07:00.000+10:00

She conceived through IVF. She bled throughout her pregnancy. She had the worst labour I have heard about (ending with a full anaesthetic and emergency cesarean after 36 hours). Her husband is in Germany for work. Her baby was screaming with pain over teething and a rash all last night. She was exhausted. And she had the most patience I have seen with a baby who wouldn't settle.

I commented on this when her daughter finally went to sleep this morning.
"I wanted this so much - we worked so hard for her - I can't help but be surprised and grateful for the fact that she is in my life every morning. She is our miracle."
I only hope that I can be so selfless when the time comes. It was hard to watch her baby screaming like she had been stuck with a pin (or several thousand pins!). I was stressed for her, for both of them, but she was calm and persistent and I was very humbled by her whole approach.

We have talked for hours. She understands what I am going through and understands exactly why I haven't told my mother. I haven't really written much about my mother. I love her, I really do, but she disappoints me time and time again. She never fails to misunderstand me. She always tries, but completely misses the mark. She is judgemetal and harsh. Righteous and sanctimonious. She suffers from two fatal afflictions - bigotry and expert's disease.

I often wonder how I am me after a childhood with her. We fought like anything when I was a teenager and I am convinced that much of my rebellion was fuelled by a desire to rebel against her. I don't rebel any more, of course, not overtly anyway. And we really do get on fine. Don't misunderstand my intent - it's not to whinge about my mother (although I am!). But I could never, ever tell her what I am doing and expect understanding. I don't want to risk it and open myself up to her judgements.

When my cousin was talking to her the other day, she mentioned that she was coming to stay with me. She said to my mother that she hoped it would be ok if bub was a bit of a disruption to us (a little prophetic, as it turns out). My mother said, "it will be good for her! She needs some disruption to her routine and calm life. She needs to know what it will be like if she ever decides to stop focusing on her career and those two ever decide to have children!"

I have heard it all my life but it stabs all the same. Does she really know me so little to think that I am purely and solely focused on my career? It pains me that she believes me to be so shallow. That she hasn't even bothered to ask but made assumptions about me which paint such an unflattering picture.That she thinks me so selfish that my life is all about me. That my childlessness has been a decision! I feel like screaming at her again. To spit out my experiences of the past 2 years. To shame her pious smirk.

But I can't. She is my mother and she doesn't get it. She never will. I keep it all in because she judges so terribly. Anything personal I have ever shared has been twisted and distorted and regurgitated back at me, a horrible mess of cynicism and disbelief. And returning, always, back to her. Nobody could ever have had it as bad as her. Nobody has ever sufferered like she has. If I told her about us now, there would be some way of bringing it back to her. And then she'd tell me how to do it. And, especially, what I was doing wrong (which would, undoubtedly, be all of it). She'd tell me it was my fault for leaving it so late, for marrying the wrong one, for going on holidays and spending my money, for going back to uni, for getting a promotion.

I can't do that to myself.

The cobwebs are still there.

And I want to keep loving her.

That bit is hard at times. I have to work at it. I have to bite my tongue and ignore half of everything she says. And never share.

Her sister, my cousin's mother, is as opposite to my mother as two siblings could be. She is my Godmother and I have always been able to tell her more and get on with her far better than my own mother. As a child and adolescent, I would beg to stay with them over school holidays and I used to pretend I was one of theirs. The warmth and affection and thinking and talking that was encouraged in their home made me feel, well, home. Whenever I visit, I still do.

Since my cousin has come to stay, I have been 'homesick'. I need to visit. I need to feel that I belong somewhere. The first time I took him there, AdventureBoy said, "oh, so that's where you come from - now I understand!" My cousin and my aunt and uncle (and 2 other cousins) all live on the same property. My cousin has a separate house with her husband and bub, but they are always all together at the main house most of the time. I love spending time there and I really know I need to again.

Hopefully, my leave for this term will be approved and I will go. I am so happy that my cousin has come to stay. Even if it has reminded me about all of the disappointment my mother brings. But I know the kind of mother I want to be - just like my aunt. Is that bad?

Part 762

2006-07-11T22:53:00.000+10:00

Period started today. Pain, headache, cranky, listless ... hello old friend!

And now, don't come back for about 12 more months, thanks.

Oh shit - Lucrin! I almost forgot. I better go and stab - back in a minute...
OK - a straightforward one. Does it matter if it's 3 hours late? Hope not. It's so funny this cycle - I keep forgetting I'm even doing it. Last time, I was thinking about it every second, wondering what was going to come next, nervously anticipating the injections every evening. I'm not exactly flippant, but I'm determined to continue as normally as possible this time. So much was put on hold before and it took a long time to catch up again.

My cousin phoned me today - she is coming to visit me (she lives in another state) and stay on Friday. Her baby is now 7 months old now and I haven't met her. I'm really looking forward to it, especially as she is, well, one of us ... you know ... baby conceived outside of the body and all that. The gentle touch of the surgeon's hand, the careful insertion of the catheter, the squirt of the progesterone up the lala. She knows. And she will be the first person in my family to know about us. I'm looking forward to telling her. I'm generally so private with this (in the real world, that is) and she and I have always got on so well. We used to secretly believe we were really sisters and our real sisters should have been siblings to each other. My own sister, whilst fabulous, is too self-absorbed to be able to share this effectively with.

I'll find out more about how she achieved success. Don't worry ... I'll share.

Seven books that I love:

I'll start with the books I am currently re-reading right now. The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy 5-part trilogy by Douglas Adams. I loved this as a teenager and I have read it several times since. They are so absolutely brilliant and the cleverness grows even more with every reading. A shame he died so suddenly and prematurely.
Bliss by Peter Carey. An Australian author and a very Australian focus - great visual imagery and the quirkiness and honesty of the story was a great inspiration to me in my early 20s.
The Famished Road, Ben Okri. This was my first experience of the genre of magic realism with mature awareness and has inspired much of my own writing since. It also offered a window into another culture and other beliefs and I love the combination of reality and fantasy in the same world which characterises this genre. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez is another which fills the same criteria for me.
I also love a clever use of words. Umberto Eco is a master of this and In the Name of the Rose is my favourite of his. His story is so carefully yet brilliantly written and I particularly enjoyed the historical accuracy and integration of fact with fiction.
I was a bit of a sci-fi geek as a kid and I absolutely loved the Dune series by Frank Herbert. I had (still have) the 6 books written by him and I re-read them every Christmas holidays. I used to haunt my local book exchange, swapping every few days to keep up with my voracious appetite for this genre.
All of my gardening books, particularly those on organic vegie gardening. I consult with them regularly and they help me to know what to plant, when, how to fix problems and consider design and companion planting etc. I love my garden time and I love eating my own produce. Most garden writers, I find, are particularly passionate about their love of the natural world.
Do I say love? I'm not sure. But I have certainly spent enough time with it over the past few months. I'd rather have never needed to read it, but Getting Pregnant by Robert Jansen (the director of my IVF 'corporation') is a really good IVF resource. It is extensive, comprehensive, medical, yet accessible and covers all sorts of stuff, including statistics, procedures, dealing with miscarriage etc.

There are so many more than this, of course. I love reading and books and I have a wall of books in my study, as well as 3 other bookshelves around the house. They become like part of the family - I could never give them away. They're the only think AdventureBoy and I have ever fought over. He still doesn't understand, but he at least accepts now. Lucky!

A needling kind of day

2006-07-10T22:48:00.000+10:00

I had a blood test scheduled for early this morning. This holiday, I have been 'pretending' that I have no car and therefore forcing myself to walk everywhere I need to go (enforced exercise, you understand). The Leech Factory I go to is only about 20 minutes walk away and so I set out on my journey straight after breakfast. When I was almost there, I decided to look in my bag and realised that I had left the collection form behind so, with no car, I had to walk all the way back home to get it. Lucky my goal has been to get fit(ter).

The nurse I got at the Leech Factory, however, was HOPELESS and mutilated 2 veins with NO BLOOD before she ran out of the collection room, leaving me holding cotton balls pressed into the crooks of both arms. For each, she had dug around under the skin for at least a minute, searching for what I had never had a problem with before - it didn't tickle! Eventually, a GOOD nurse who I had before came in and quickly and simply found a good vein, took the blood, wrapped my arm to stop any bruising caused by STUPID nurse, and I was done. I have never had such a horrible blood draw experience.

Later, I went for my acupuncture session, and Chinese Cutie Punk, my acupuncturist, inserted another 15 needles for the hour. She's actually really good and I'm glad that I found her. Not only is she a sweetie, but her office is literally just around the corner from my IVF clinic (which is only a 20 minute walk from my place also - and just behind the day surgery where I have all of my procedures). I know how lucky I am with both of those factors, especially reading about others who have to travel for a lot longer (sometimes even spending days away) to access these services.

I walked to see Saint Anne at the IVF clinic after my treatment to pick up a new sharps container, concealed nicely in a brown paper bag so that I wouldn't be confused with a patient of the methadone clinic in the same street. My blood results indicated to her that my period should have started - but it hasn't! I'm waiting, waiting, waiting. I'm now on day 30 and my usual cycle is about 26 days. I hate waiting.

Tonight, I jabbed my 10mls of Lucrin with trepidation. I think I'd had enough of the needles for today. And it hurt. And there was blood. And now there's a big bruise for my efforts.

Lucky me.

There are reasons

2006-07-07T17:51:00.000+10:00

A good friend of mine, Drew, came down from Sydney today to have lunch. We went to school together and then worked together for a couple of years in a bank before we both went to our respective universities to pursue our respective careers. We even lived in a shared uni house for a while. We have known each other since we were 15 and have had a lot to do with each other's lives. He used to have a crush on me and then I was a bridesmaid at his wedding. The crush continued as an undercurrent of our friendship until one day he told me about it and I felt very awkward about what I was supposed to do with that information. It was just after I had split up with my ex-husband and I still don't know why he chose then to share it with me.

But this story isn't about that. Today, he told me that he has left his wife. They have been married for 15 years and have two boys who are 13 and 10. A huge decision, he tells me, and it all comes down to trust. They have broken up once before and we have all known for a while that their marriage wasn't the most stable. Even still, it was a bit of a shock. I always thought they would just keep at it and they are both incredibly devoted to their sons. It's just been too hard, he told me, and broke down in tears.

He has been out for about 3 weeks now and the thing he most misses are the boys. He doesn't know how he's going to continue without seeing them every day and the tension with his wife makes it very uncomfortable. I could see the pain of his love etched into every line on his face. He ultimately wants it to work out, but I don't think it will. I didn't tell him that, of course, but my intuition was very strong about it.

And this afternoon, I have been reflecting.

There are reasons why I am glad I have waited to have a family. Despite the struggle and pain and heartache of my current failure, I am still glad. I would have had them with my ex and either, we still would have broken up, or we would have stayed together and our marriage would have been miserable. I know he left me (for my best friend!) but I had already worked out that we weren't going to make it. I clung desperately for fear of admitting failure and so he acted.

I watch my sisters sharing custody of their children. One nephew is in Queensland and the other in Thailand with their fathers. My sisters miss them and they always feel like their family is not complete when they're gone. I know it's better for everyone that all of these marriages ended, but the thing I am glad for is that I don't have to cope with that side of things as well. I see how hard it is for others.

I know if I had them I wouldn't be able to even contemplate thinking this way. Once they are there, they are who you are. But having never had them, I have to be glad for the other things. I search for reasons to be happy about some parts of this whole situation.

This time, I know I have found the right one. When (when ... when?) I have them with him, we will never have to share, we will all just 'be'. A child so wanted and a family that loves. We will stay young in heart and mind because they make us that way and I will be glad I waited because I waited for them.

No hot flushes ... and Part 3

2006-07-06T20:55:00.000+10:00

No hot flushes. No bad moods. Day 4 of Lucrin and I'm feeling fine. Apart from the time I actually go through the ritual, I'm not really even thinking about it. A bit hungry, but no more than normal pre-period hungry.I'm pretty pleased about that actually ...

I got a new French cookbook on Tuesday. I think I was just about drooling all over every page it sounded so good (except for the cow pages of course). The uspide for AdventureBoy with the synhronisation of my holidays with my hunger is that he is getting great meals every night for dinner. We've been all over the world this week, with a Thai prawn soup tonight (with all of the greens from my garden), pumpkin ravioli last night, French tarragon chicken the night before. I'm hungry again just writing abut them. And we have a surplus of lemons so I've been experimenting with many different types of lemon desserts and even baking bread. My chiropractor today said I was very balanced. 'Being on holidays suits you' she said. I agree.

Seven things that attracted me to my partner:

His cheeky smile. He is a bit of a joker and a tease most of the time and enjoys looking for the fun in any situation. He was actually the friend of a guy I was seeing at the time, who was so serious and intense that he drove me mad. A great smile could not help but shine by comparison.
His adventurous past. I loved (and still do) hearing about his stories about his travels and life in other places and other times. His previous life devoted to skiing was, for me, something I was extremely jealous of and i used to ask him so much about where he lived, what he did, who he was with, why he returned. I must admit, I used to get pretty jealous too of most of his ex-girlfriends (despite the fact that I had been married), especially the really pretty ones in his photo albums. As a seriously spunky boy in his 20s, he used to get all of the gorgeous girls. It was only once we were married that I got a bit more used to that part.
His friends and family. As soon as I met all of them I was immediately welcomed and the warmth that they all clearly felt for him confirmed for me what a great guy he was. I did not meet a single person (apart from the ex-boyfriend I left for him) who sang anything apart from praise for him and his genuine nature. He related so easily and warmly to all of them and was a favourite amongst all of the kids - he is still known to his nephews as Uncle Monkey and they love him.
His upfront love and desire for kids. Whenever we are in the vicinity of children, he seeks them out. He has an amazing way of making even the shyest child turn on to him within half an hour of meeting them and he is more than happy to goof around, read stories, wrestle and tickle and generally have fun with them, while still interacting effectively with the adults around as well. In some ways, he is a bit of a big kid himself but not in an infantile kind of way. When it first became apparent that our relationship was going somewhere, he told me very clearly that he wanted a family. It was very important to him and he would have started straight away if I had let him (oh, the benefit of hindsight!). I thought, at 33, I had plenty of time to start on that journey.
His dedication to his profession. I have always been pretty career focused and previous partners have never quite understood this drive. AdventureBoy shares that drive and passion for his career and it was actually really sexy to me. He is intelligent, competent, successful and keeps learning and I respect him and what he does. That was VERY important to me and he truly understood and reciprocated that.
His patience. His ability to do things (handy stuff). His stability. His honesty. His beautiful blue eyes. His gentle hands and long fingers. His support of my career. His ability to teach me new things. His willingness to listen. His respect for the elderly. His joy in humanity. Sorry - had to squeeze a lot in there as seven wasn't enough!
The way he ties plastic bags. That, in fact, was the clincher. It has become part of our relationship folklore - a story to tell the grandkids. I have a particular way of tying a knot in supermarket shopping bags to store them for future use. It's a kind of knot which can be easily pulled open and I thought I was the only person who tied them like this. I had lived with many people and they all thought I was a little bit odd (and perhaps obsessive) when I insisted that all bags be tied in this way to save space while storing them. I saw it as just a matter of logic. One day in the early days, we went grocery shopping together. When we emptied the items back at his place, he carefully took the first empty bag and tied it JUST LIKE I DID! Even now, the significance of this overwhelms me. At the time, I laughed and kissed him and told him I knew he was the one. And I did. That simple action reflected everything - the similarity of our thoughts, desires, obsessions, upbringing. It was not something he could fake, and I loved him for it. I still do (even though we fight about the organisation of the second drawer in the kitchen at times!!).

So there it is. Funny how writing this particular list has made me love him just a little bit more again. It might sound like he's perfect, but he's not. He's just perfect for me (most of the time). Next post I will have to fit the last two into one - even though I'm having fun doing it, I think it's time to finish now :).

Tagged, Part 2

2006-07-03T16:58:00.000+10:00

But first, a tribute to my big, brave, generous, furry baby (that's him with the black collar - he's bit of goof, really).

Yesterday, we had my family over for my youngest sister's 33rd birthday. It was a perfect, sunny, cool winter's day and after lunch the boys (from my 8-year-old nephew up to my 62-year-old Dad) went to the park next door to play football. We are lucky enough to live next to a great park which has lovely bushland in the corner near our back door and kitchen window and a couple of acres of grass with a children's playground at the other end. It was one of the great attractions when we bought this house. Our two Weimaraners were with them, runing around them and chasing the ball and generally having a great time.

At about 3pm, the phone rang - it was our vet, requesting Rueben (our big goofy boy) to be blood donor for a Great Dane who had lost a lot of blood from a ruptured stomach tumour. Of course we said yes (this vet really looks after us, and all of his patients, with love and extreme competence). Poor Rueben. Running free with Luna and the boys, then drugged and bled and returned to us about 5 hours later, staggering and flopping and really not sure just what happened. But we were proud of him, even if he didn't have much choice in the matter!

And now, to Part 2.

Seven things I can't do:

Eat cows. When I was 17 I made a choice to become vegetarian. I was partly influenced by my Dad's 3rd heart attack and subesequent triple by-pass operation and my growing repulsion at the thought of eating previously living, breathing creatures. Over time, I relaxed some of my rigid rules and began eating fish and seafood about 10 years ago on the advice of a naturopath and dietician. Two years ago, AdventureBoy convinced me to try chicken again as he was running out of things to cook for me. I relented and have eaten it about once a fortnight since. But I just can't bring myself to even contemplate a cow.
Sing. Or, at least, sing well. I'm quite capable of singing badly, but have never been able to feel confident about sharing this at any other time than when rather drunk (and when I, of course, think that I'm FAAABULOUS and have just been too hard on myself all these years).
Give up. Ever. My determination used to drive my mother mad when I was a child and I know AB finds it futile to argue against it. This could be learning to ski, achieving a promotion at work, growing my hair or completing a degree. I might 'postpone' on occassion but the thought of defeat and failure is like poison to me and I will go to great lengths to avoid it. My pursuit for a child has become like this. I know I won't rest until we have that baby in our arms and I don't even want to contemplate a future where it doesn't happen.
Have patience with incompetence. I frustrates the hell out of me wherever I find it. In my colleagues, my team, my bosses, my family, shopkeepers, cleaners, cab drivers, tradesmen, friends, AdventureBoy, myself. Harsh - I know! Perfection is hard to find and I torture myself at times seeking it. I know I can't attain it, but I try my best to do so. I'm much harder on myself than on anyone else (really, or I'd have NO friends at all - but I still notice it). Right now, I am VERY impatient with my incompetent reproductive system!
Do the splits. Not anymore, anyway. I used to be very bendy as a kid and was always turning myself inside out and jumping and hanging from trees and cartwheeling and folding myself into small places. I still go to my yoga class once a week, but age (and possibly lack of practice) has stiffened me and I miss my old bendy body. After the first IVF, I have become even more unfit and inactive and have even less hope of getting myself down to the ground.
Read and use HTML. Hence the really boring, standard design of this blog. i am on holidays for the next 2 weeks so, hopefully, that will be one thing I can cross from this list.
Live without the colour red. It is my absolute favourite colour. I surround myself with it and it makes me feel good. I feel comforted and warmed by it's presence. The shade of red I actually like is quite a deep red - not quite burgundy - but a much richer shade of the primary red. I have red walls in my house (not all of them), red rugs, red cushions, a red bedhead, red clothes, red shoes, red handbags, red jewellery (I love garnets and rubies) and my car is red. I know it sounds like a bit of overkill but it is broken up by other colours and, well, I like it that way. When I finally get to re-do the design of this blog, be prepared for a significant use of red!

Well, that's taken another couple of hours to complete. I cooked dinner during that time too of course, but now I'm tired. Thanks for listening. More tomorrow.

By the way, the little girl in that photo is the daughter of the friend who started trying in the same month as we did. She was one in March.

Tagged, Part 1

2006-07-01T22:28:00.000+10:00

OK - I have finally had the chance to stop and begin my holidays now. Even though we broke up on Wednesday, I have been in at school every day and today - I am just shattered. Like I said the other day, this has been possibly the worst of my whole teaching career (starting with a miscarriage didn't exactly help!!).

I started Provera on Thursday and I start my injections with Lucrin on Monday. Can't wait for those hot flushes ... but I feel kind of good that we're starting again. I feel like I'm wasting time when we're not. But even then, I just want it to work so I don't have to be thinking about it anymore.

I'm watching Grease on tv at the moment - I keep singing (badly) along with every cheesy song. I can't believe how 'Aussie' Olivia Newton-John sounds. A bit tragic really. And a preview for the Rocky Horror Picture Show just came on - one of my absolute favourites. My sister and I lived together for a couple of years while we were at uni. For a while, we were totally obsessed with this movie and used to get dressed up and play it really loudly in the apartment we lived in and dance and sing all over the living room. A true test of a boyfriend who was to be a 'stayer' was if he could either: a) see the fun in it; or b) (even better) join in. Only a few passed the test and we were pretty happy with our test. My mistake husband was one of those who passed. He actually thought we were a little bit mad - but we were fine with that. She's still mad now. I'm not objective enough to know if I am anymore. But she can certainly bring it out in me, if anyone can. I'll have to write more about her later.

But now, Part 1 of my tag post (by the way, 'Look at me I'm Sandra Dee' is on now - I can't believe I used to think she was SO OLD when I heard she was 29 when she made this!). Bea has inspired me to write it in shifts. My posts would be way too long if I tried to do them all together.

Seven things I'd like to do before I die:

Standard answer - have a family and live long enough to see them have their own too.
Learn to play piano - this is something I used to beg my mother to let me learn. For many years I asked my parents to buy a piano and every home which had one would find me carefully trying to pick out the notes to my favourite songs. They used to tell me they couldn't afford one and I used to get so cranky at them - thinking they could have if they wanted to, they just didn't care about me enough. Typical selfish kid attitude. All about me. I bought myself one a couple of years ago but trying to start up a new middle school, complete a PhD and get pregnant have all significantly impacted on my time to devote to this. One day.
Finish that PhD.
Learn to speak Italian fluently. I know bits and pieces and understand quite a lot due to the years living with my mistake-husband's family in my 20s. He was the youngest son and second-youngest cousin in a large Italian family and I was adopted into their heart from the minute I met them all. My parents and youngest sister were living in New Zealand with a work transfer for Dad (he was/is a corporate banker) and my second sister and I lived alone in the Rocky Horror apartment I just told you about. Nonna and ZiaElisa couldn't speak a word of English and as a very absorbant 19-year-old I learnt as much as I could. Of course, and hence it's place on this list, I wish I knew more.
Finish writing my novel (maybe after the PhD) and then keep writing more. I don't know if I necessarily want anything to be published, I just love the act of writing. Perhaps I'll include some of it on this blog (but then again, it would be very long to post - maybe another blog?). And children's books. Not little kids, but early to middle adolescents. I have started a few but have only ever finished one of them. I don't even know if they're good but, again, I love the feeling of writing and trying to understand the interests of this age group.
Have my 90th Birthday with my children, grandchildren, sisters, nephews and AdventureBoy. I would need to stay healthy and fit to live this long, so I guess that's a part of this one as well. I'd have to have an active mind, to entertain and challenge the grandkids, so that they would come to me for advice or just enjoy my company and I could teach them all sorts of stuff about life, the universe and everything (by the way, 42 might not be the answer). That would mean that AB would be 94 and I'm sure he'd still be my rock. I look foward to the opportunity to spend that much time with him (especially as we married so late).
Live / study in another part of the world. About 12 months would probably be enough, because I think I actually live in a pretty ideal location right now. I just want experience somewhere else. Somewhere where I am completely out of my 'comfort zone' (sorry about the cliche) and I have to challenge myself just to get through each day. I used to always want to go and live in Florence to study art history and that still sounds like a great option. Vancouver also appeals, or somewhere else in France or Italy. Malta is another which holds sentimetal value although I think it would be a little small for a long term.

Whew, that was more thought and memory inducing than I thought it would be.

The 'Time Warp' is on now - I'm getting itchy toes! I wonder if my sister is still awake ...

End of Term

2006-06-25T16:05:00.000+10:00

I feel like Alice's White Rabbit ... no time, no time ... and the pace has been dizzying.

As a coordinator at my school, not only have I been writing my own reports, I have also been checking reports for all of Year 7 (those written by every teacher for every student) and believe me, some of them have been BAD. For educated people who have spent at least 4 years in university study, some of these people just don't don't know to putting a couple of meaningful sentences together. On top of that, I have spent 3 evenings at school for various events and trying to actually be a somehow decent teacher for my students amongst it all.

No wonder I haven't had time to write.

But I can see the end is near. Our students broke up on Friday and this week we have a training day of Monday and then 2 days of parent-teacher interviews. I am running one session of the training day (and so that is the focus of today's computer work) and thankfully, don't have full days of interviews as I don't have as many classes due to my coordinator allowance.

And then, at 7pm on Wednesday, I will be on holidays!

For a short term, it's been a long one, starting with my miscarriage in Week 1 and trundling fairly steadily downhill from there. I am sooooo looking forward to this break. I start Provera on Thursday and injections on the following Monday. It's shame that the real business end of this cycle will happen after I have gone back to school, but I have about 800 hours sick leave accumulated, so I have a great pool to draw upon. I am also planning to apply for leave for the last 5 weeks of this term so that I can either take it easy if it works, or gear up for my next cycle if it doesn't. I might even get some of my thesis written as well.

The sun is shining today and my study window looks out over the park next door. It is late afternoon and the western light has spread a beautiful, warm glow throughout the room. It has even penetrated into my heart and I feel like smiling for no apparent reason. For the first time in a long time, I feel happy and even content. Still busy, still empty, still wishing on that star, but smiling the shyest of smiles at Hope. I think she might be looking my way.

OPK

2006-06-19T20:49:00.000+10:00

That is, Other People's Kids.

As much as I have difficulty with Mrs Precious (and assorted other pregnant women) I have some to the conclusion that I have absolutely no problem with spending time with the babies and children of other people. Whilst my own personal pain is always there, kids are fun. They make me laugh and they awe me with the very fact of their existence. They way they think, learn and grow is amazing to watch and to interact with them reminds me of exactly why I want one of my own.

This weekend, we had a 2 year old over to our place on Saturday night (with her parents, of course) and went for lunch on Sunday with a 4 year old (and her parents - more about them later). Their litle minds are hilarious and I can't help but love the way they draw everyone around them into their little worlds. Everyone is potentially their friend and the honesty of their behaviours and emotions is effortless.

AdventureBoy is also an official kid magnet, so any which we find in our vicinity are immediately drawn into his orbit and the games abound. He tickles and clowns and has all the time and energy for them they they could possibly demand. He even pulls silly faces at kids in the supermarket, at the bank, anywhere. It doesn't matter if he doesn't actually know them, if it's a child, it's there for fun. In many ways he is like a big kid himself. He is the life of the party where any kids are involved and he is the favourite 'Uncle Monkey' of his many nephews.

I hadn't actually noticed that I was OK with children until this weekend. Last week, I started thinking about the approaching kid visits and started worrying about how I would be. If I would be OK. If it would be too hard. If I would think only of myself. And then, I wasn't. I didn't realise that none of those things had happened, not until the end of the weekend had arrived. In fact, I had fun and enjoyed their company and marvelled at how much they knew and how much their presence warmed my heart.

It's the pregnant women that bother me most. It's where I want to be right now. Of course, the children are what I want too, but perhaps they seem just so far away that I can't even get upset about something that is that much into the future. It's the apparently abstract concept of pregnancy (that I had but the tiniest taste) that hurts me the most. And even then, only particular people's pregnancies.

Especially Mrs Precious.

I phoned her this afternoon. I was proud of myself. I managed the keep my emotions deep inside and successfully deflected all comments relating to her pregnancy and her consistent references to her 'pregnancy brain' to justify something she might have done which was stupid, forgetful or just plain nasty. I really just didn't want to know about it.

Was I being completely selfish? Probably.
Did I have to? Absolutely.

I'm not sure how long it will need to be like this. In all reality (and complete honesty) it will probably only genuinely end when I am pregnant myself. I hope with all I have that it happens before she has hers. I know I'll have to deal with it if I'm not ... and many have trodden that path before me ... but it will be a hard one to follow.

And now I'm off for a bit of 'trying' in the quaint and old-fashioned way.

It can't hurt to try.

Who gets it?

2006-06-16T17:31:00.000+10:00

Mrs Precious sent me an email this week. She wants to renew the friendship, but her overtures still completely missed the mark. It was all still viewed completely in terms of her, with comments like "you haven't tried to talk to me about this", "I feel you are punishing me" and "I know that you would be happy for me after all I have been though". Lip service to "I know how you feel", but essentially all about her.

I replied, but I found it so hard. Yes, a big part of it is the fact that before, both of us were pregnat and now, only one of us is. But the biggest part for me is the selfishness and superficiality she displayed while we were away. Even if the friendship renews, it will never be the same again. I really don't want to have to live every moment of her pregnancy as she would rarely stop to think that it would be hard for me to hear all about it. Her world is only her and it is that side of her that I can't reconcile with the thought of continuing friendship.

And then, maybe I'm the selfish one. I should be happy for her, but I'm resentful. She hurt me and made me angry and I don't know how I want this now to be. I will call her tomorrow because we are both going to the same engagement party tomorrow night. How do I cope with everyone oohing and aahing over her news? To stay away from her would be obvious. To be with her will be painful. No win really. Hopefully tomorrow's conversation will be a bit of a buffer. And AdventureBoy's presence.

And in absolute and stark contrast is my fabulous next door neighbour whose new son is 4 weeks old now. They came in for dinner a couple of weekends ago. The boys were out by the fire and she and I sat inside and I told her everything (including the Mrs Precious bits). She was empathetic in the right bits and warm and encouraging where appropriate as well. When I told her that they had both implanted, her first comment was "that's so good - so encouraging". I wanted to kiss her, but thought that might be a bit beyond the bounds of our normal interactions.

Later that week, I came home to find a bottle of wine and a card on my front doorstep. A message of sympathy, encouragement and hope and an invitation to visit and share a glass or two whenever I needed to talk. She absolutely and totally 'got it'. Why, without ever having been there, with two healthy kids, did she get it so well? I know there is a difference in the depth of knowledge from each, but I am still 100% sure that she would always say it right while Mrs Precious would always say it wrong.

I know I'm not the first to say, think or feel this but I think it's one of the hardest things of this whole process. Being infertile is one of the most isolating experiences. The world inside my computer the one that most reassures me that I'm not alone.

My kit arrives from Saint Meagan on Monday. I start Provera on the 29th. I am not going to wait another month. This one will be that month. We'll try our little butts off next week (and maybe even enjoy this time) and if no success, then we're all geared up and ready to go. The waiting month would kill me - I want this to happen and I need to make it happen. As Dr Challenge said, it all about numbers. The more times we try the odds move closer towards that chance of success.

And now I'm back to school for an Art Exhibition opening. I'd really rather stay here and write some more ... maybe tomorrow.

Fooled

2006-06-12T23:23:00.000+10:00

I don't know whether it's because of the herbs I've been taking, the hormones through the IVF cycle or the brief pregnancy, but my period came yesterday and I had absolutely no idea that it was about to start. Usually, I have cramping, spotting, bloating and general a general feeling of 'blah' for about 3 or 4 days before it actually starts. This time, none of that. Not even a grumpy scowl at AdventureBoy or advanced chocolate cravings. I just woke up yesterday morning and there it was when I went to the toilet. Started. Completely. And this has been the least amount of pain I have had for a period since, well, ever!

Apart from the lack of warning and subsequent mess, it was brilliant. I only needed to take 2 painkillers (and believe me - that NEVER happens) and I could even actually function and do things. Amazing. It makes me feel like I am possibly normal. I am sure this is what it is supposed to be like - maybe my hormones are happy. Maybe I will have a chance for it to happen naturally with this cycle (well now you're just getting carried away).

All I can do is try.

And if not, at least I know I am ready to be back on again. I'll phone Saint Anne tomorrow.

Boots and Sex

2006-06-10T22:43:00.000+10:00

Not that they go together necessarily, but they are the two themes of my stories tonight.

Today, I bought a fabulous pair of boots. I went to my favourite shoe shop in the early hours of this afternoon. I had been to the butcher to buy AdventureBoy his meat for the weekend (I don't actually eat meat, so it really is a great public service that I even walk into a butcher shop for him!) and really needed to go and look at some shoes.

That urge doesn't actually hit me too often, so I decided to go (knowing that the meat would be safe today in my car on this 13 degree C day. I was, of course, looking for something in black but came upon the most gorgeous pair of knee-high brown (red-brown really) leather boots with a lace-up back. As I have quite narrow calves, most of this style of boot looks fairly ridiculous on me - like I've been playing dress-ups in my mother's wardrobe. But the laces on these ones allowed me to pull them in nice and tight and they looked fabulous. I couldn't help myself. Especially when they told me that their 30% off sale was starting that moment in the store! So I got $125 off the original price and stressed only momentarily about how I was going to explain to AdventureBoy that I had bought brown boots instead of black.

Oh well.

Boys will never understand the lure of fabulous shoes.

Or boots for that matter.

Due to aforementioned skinny calves, this is the first pair of knee-highs I've ever owned (except for a pair when I was about 8). As you might be able to tell, I'm very excited.

Which (kind of) leads to the second part of tonight's story. Sex. When I showed my boots to AdventureBoy while he was scrubbing potatoes for tonight's dinner, he decided that they were almost CFM boots (a fairly crass acronym, if you're unfamiliar with it) and then hugged me, thanking me for what had happened last night.

Just for an aside, I told him that they were definitely NOT CFM boots as they had completely flat heels.

Last night, for the first time since the beginning of March ... and for the first time in 1 1/2 years that it hasn't has any other motive ... we had sex. I had almost forgotten how beautiful it could be. We haven't kissed like that for so long and to feel so loved and held, not pressured and anxious, was almost too hard. It was more than sex. It was that old cliche of love. And afterwards, we held each other and cried.

Tears of sorrow and love and remembering and future. Tears of hope and peace and fear and maybe. They were tears that spoke of forever and we fell asleep wrapped in each others arms.

We have not done that for years.

I am sure I have said that I love this boy. Tonight we were reliving some of his adventures - the ones that make him AdventureBoy - and he tried to remember how to say funny things to me in French. He lived and skied and worked for 6 years every winter in France (a big thing for an Aussie boy) and travelled and waterskied and sailed and played during the summers.

Sometimes, I am really envious of those times. That life he had before he even knew me. When he was young and free and never knew (or cared) about his future.

Tonight: can we go and live there for a year?

Him: sure!
Always up for adventure.

He lived in a small resort town called Meribel. We went there for our honeymoon and it was such a fabulous experience to be welcomed into the heart of this place - oh, you're AdventureBoy's wife. Come and have a drink and we'll tell you some of his stories. He'd told me most of them, of course, but it was still great to hear them again. He took me to show me where he had climbed treacherous mountains and broken his back on a jump. We went to his favourite restaurant (which was still there) and drank the local drink. I, of course, preferred the champagne, but I humoured him. I lost so much weight that week, just following him around the mountains, revisiting his past.

And then he was ready to settle. When we returned home he was ready. And I was restless.

But I gave it away and decided on this future.

I'm still waiting.

I would have been so ready then to stay there. To keep travelling and exploring and having adventures of my own. To make up for my lost years - the years of my 20s when I was married to the wrong one and focused on study and then my job to keep me fulfilled. It never really worked and it all ended when I was 30.

I am glad that it ended because I would have never met my AdventureBoy. I am glad I listened to him because I would have kept waiting thinking everything would be fine. That my fertility would wait for me. That I could decide that I looked young, therefore everything else was young as well. I could have been much further into more adventures before I even started to look.

I suppose this is all kind of like a bit of an adventure. Not like the kind which you usually associate with fun and excitement, but an adventure nonetheless. I certainly experiencing and learning new things.

I am waiting for my period. I think I have had myself a bit fooled this week, thinking that it was coming. I don't feel like it this weekend at all. My temperatures seemed to indicate that it was on its way - but nothing. I just want it to come so I can feel like everything is back on track again.

But I said I wouldn't go there tonight.

So I won't. I have finished my reports and I have a long weekend. It's raining and cold (which I love by the way) and I have fabulous new boots. And an AdventureBoy who loves me and hope in my heart.

Thanks for listening.
Goodnight.

Decision?

2006-06-07T19:51:00.000+10:00

I think I have made up my mind today.

But there you go ... I couldn't keep going then and haven't written another word for 10 minutes. So perhaps I don't know. No .. no .. I do .. I have .. I don't think I can wait .. (mmm - did you notice it - that word 'think'?).

Fucking uncertainty!

I think one reason I have been wanting to wait is that I wan't to get my body back in shape again to avoid a complete blowout with the next round of jabbing and tabbing. I so don't feel like myself and I can't afford to buy a whole new wardrobe at the moment. But then, if it works, I'll have to buy new clothes anyway. And I won't have my body back again for a long time in that scenario either. Do I need it?

OK - I've even got the shits with myself now.

Just say you're going to do it!!

Yes, yes. I know. I'll do it.

Because I'll feel like I'm wasting an opportunity if I don't. And I want it to work. And I know my chances are slim for a natural conception. And my body won't change that much in a month anyway.

Right. Decision made. My period will start this weekend and I'll phone Saint Anne and Meagan and I'll be back in the Big Top again.

......................................................

And I promise next post - no more indecision. I might even talk about something other than infertility for a change.

Back at the Big Top again

2006-06-06T20:49:00.000+10:00

Dr Challenge phoned today. The results of my karyotype tests have come back. And I'm not sure what they tell me. He said all that could be determined was that what they tested was female and normal. And that it could have been me. Or at least bits of me rather than bits of the two sacs which were removed during the D&C.

So, essentially, nothing.

I don't know whether I'm dissapointed or OK. I keep wondering if my two embryos were girls. I have always wanted a little girl. A little girl with my brown eyes and long dark hair and AdventureBoy's beautiful fingers and long lean legs. With my love of words and his love of action. With my skills with the visual and his skills of empathy. With my genes and his, irrevocably united for the entirety of her life. I miss her already. I know her like she is me and I want her to come home. I can see her learning to walk against the legs of my old chairs and learning to read in the sunlight by the back door. Dressing herself and stomping when she is angry. Running to greet AdventureBoy when he arrives home from work. Helping me plant seedlings and painting on the deck. I love her.

And don't get me started on her little brother.

I mourn what I thought I would have had by now. That doesn't preclude my hope for it happening sometime, but I really thought it would be now. I don't know if Dr Challenge's report helps or it doesn't. It certainly doesn't get us any closer to understanding why they didn't make it. I don't know if I needed it. I just need to keep going.

Which brings me to another dilemma I have been having for a few weeks now. Should I start again on the very next cycle ... or give it another month to give my body a chance to get back to feeling like itself again? The hormones have made such a huge impact on my shape and health that perhaps another month would help detox them out a bit more. But I'm getting further into 38 with each passing month and I'm kind of impatient to get started straight away. And backflipping again there's the somewhat naive hope that we might actually become pregnant naturally if we give ourselves a chance.

My life (my mind) has become a perpetual see-saw of conflicting emotions, thoughts, ideas and actions. I just wish I could know the outcome in advance - it would make decision-making so much easier.

So I'm standing outside the Big Top again. I know where the secret entrance is now but I don't know if I should go in. I have been practising and the roar of the crowd beckons me. But I'm scared. What if I fall again? The tight-rope is so high and end gets so tantalisingly close.

Maybe I should try again on the line I have set up at home? I have the skills, I know the moves, AdventureBoy is there, but I have no safety net. Can I fall as hard from a lesser height?

Or am I just wasting time?

I think I'll just sleep on it.

A new normal

2006-06-03T16:05:00.000+10:00

It's been exam week at school as the term is nearing it's end. I am frantically collecting tasks, marking and writing reports, as well as supervising my team doing the same. I have barely had time to do anything, let alone write. Strangely, I have been feeling like a part of me has been neglected as a result.

And that another part of me has returned to some kind of normal as well.

(If I was marking this as a written assignment, I would have circled the 'and' in my special pink marking pen and written beside it "Don't start a sentence with 'and'" - of course my own writing is happy to flaunt those particular rules!!)

So back to the normal me ... I think that I have settled back into some kind of pattern of normality (somewhat anyway). I am still (of course) intently reading and researching everything I can to better plan and understand my next cycle, however, I am able to function a little more effectively at work now. That can only be a good thing as I've been so mentally absent that I am sure I must have seemed completely incompetent and useless lately.

My brain is feeling switched back to on again and I can think about actually being motivated about my tasks and obligations. Even my classes are benefiting from my increased focus. Lucky for them because I'm writing their reports this week!

But it's a different kind of normal. A new normal. A slightly cynical and definitely less naive and innocent normal. Not that I was particularly naive but I had no idea of how little I knew. I have an encyclopaedia of infertility inside my head now but I am sure there is still plenty I don't know. I can't know. I don't want to know. I am sure there are still plenty of experiences yet to be had. Hopefully they'll be weighted further to the side of good than sad.

My breasts have been starting to hurt again this weekend - this fits with my feelings that I am due for my period next weekend. It's been kind of hard to tell where my cycle's been at since the D&C but I'm quite sure I ovulated last weekend. Hopefully it will happen according to my projection and then I can phone Saint Anne and begin the jabbing, stabbing and tabbing in the next month.

Thank goodness I'll have all of the busy stuff of school out of the way before I start the next cycle and even a couple of weeks of school holidays thrown in there as well. I really can't wait until the end of this term ... it's been one of the toughest I've ever had. But luckily I've had AdventureBoy by my side the whole way. Optimism and all, I really couldn't do without him.

The moral of today's story ...

2006-05-27T16:07:00.001+10:00

I must be some kind of masochist or something. Today, I did a very stupid thing.

A week ago today, my next door neighbour had a baby boy. They came home on Wednesday and I haven't actually been to visit them yet. One reason is the fact that I'm kind of avoiding it a little, but the other significant reason is that I haven't had a gift to take when I do. A few weks ago I saw the perfect pressie, but my SIL persuaded me that it was too expensive and I could make it myself.

Now, as a particularly arty, crafty and generally creative individual, I agreed and decided that I would. The gift that I had seen was a soft-toy snake which wrapped in a coil (for attaching to the handle of a pram) which had been wrapped like a bunch of flowers, with an assortment of brightly coloured socks, vests and washers tightly coiled like little roses inside. Gorgeous. And not too difficult you might be inclined to imagine. If you can find the right snake.

On describing said gift idea to my sister, she decided that the best place to find this toy would be in the BabyZone store on the other side of town (not that far - we live in a small town). Great idea, I thought. No worries about parking stations or fees and a lot less crowded.

A lot less crowded with normal people, sure, but absolutely filled to the brim with every pregnant woman in town. Excitedly investigating row upon row of cribs, prams, activity centres, toys, blankets, baths, change tables and every fucking thing else related to baby were rounded women in pink rubbing their smug bellies. (PLease remind me NOT to wear head to toe pink once I become pregnant!!). Beside them were adoring husbands, gigling girlfriends or patient mothers.

And then there was me.

The only single and non-pregnant woman in the place.

I decided the best course of action would be to continue with my quest for the perfect toy snake, buy and get out as quickly as I could. I went to the appropriate aisle which was, of course, filled with young children squeezing, prodding, laughing and playing. I stepped over them and around them and could not find anything even remotely like what I was looking for. And my eyes started to get very, very hot.

A small child held onto my leg, possibly assuming I was it's mother. Big sister quickly pulled her away, but it was enough. Enough to bring every feeling I have been having over the past few months flooding back. Suddenly the store felt incredibly and overwhelmingly small and I knew I just had to get the fuck out of there. Now!

Once out of the store, I angrily stomped back to my car, wiping away stupid tears wondering what on earth had made me think I could actually go into a store like that in my current emotional state. Who did I think I was? WonderWoman? What right did I have to even be in there in the first place?

I cursed my sister and drove to the closest large shopping centre, went to the filled-with-normal-people K-Mart and found close to everything I needed there. I went home and carefully rolled every small thing I had purchased into a bumpy little rose. The gift now looks beautiful and my normal, calm state of denial has returned. I can easily pretend I'm fine in my normal life, surrounded by non-baby things and activities. But out of that - way too hard!

So the message here for all is:

Woman with infertility must never enter baby-obsessed one-stop shop.

Or have next neighbours giving birth.

Really, it's all just asking for trouble!

Once Upon a Time ...

2006-05-25T15:04:00.000+10:00

Once upon a time there was a boy and a girl who loved each other very much. They met through the auspices of a fated plastic bag and each knew that the other was the one with whom they wanted to spend the rest of forever. It was all in the knot, you see.

One day, the boy decided that he would get down on bended knee for the girl. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out and all he could do was show her the sparkling glitter of Hope in his hand. The girl had been waiting for this moment and she joyfully accepted his Hope and held it tight. The boy was rightfully relieved and they went to find others to share the good news.

On the big day, the first of forever, the boy and the girl proclaimed their love and wrapped each other in a spell of promise. Their promise was shared with all who loved them and they wished that soon the girl would swell and grow and their world would be filled with light and laughter and sleepless nights and tears.

Soon after this time, they began the journey which they thought would lead to their heirs. They fell into each others arms with abandon and felt certain that the seed would fall into fertile soil and be nourished and grow to perfection. At first, the joy of each attempt seemed the purpose in itself. The future consequence merely a bonus.

But after several months, the joy was not so spontaneous and they looked at each other with puzzled frowns. The girl, who loved to read, began a reading of a different kind. One filled with technique and science and lifestyle and tests. She began to wonder if they were designed to fail and that their full lives before they met meant that time now was short.

She shared her fears with the boy and they both began to study hard to pass the tests they were to endure. Anything for my love, they knew, but they failed the first test and the boy's strength could make no difference to the result. They realised that they were never going to obtain the joy they desired if things stayed the way they were.

The girl decided it was all her fault (as she had been the one who failed the biggest test) and did everything in her power to study harder for next time. She sought to remove all obstacles within and without and threw herself in front of the piercing arrows every time.

But the scars were long to heal and her heart began to ache. What if all of our fight has been in vain? She didn't know what else she could do and this time, kept her fears from the boy. She treasured the heartprints he had left on the doorpost of her heart and she did not want to harm him. He held her hand tightly, but he did not know how far she had jumped. Her landing had been a harsh one. It had jolted her out of the naivety of Hope and she wished so much for the boy to retain his. She needed it from him to keep her focused on the quest.

After a while, however, he began to see that she was in fact jumping, preparing herself for the steeplechase which she knew was ahead. The boy had thought that it would never need to come to that. The girl had wished that too, but she knew now that he was wrong. With their last failed, cold, wet step, they realised they had reached the end of this path. They turned to each other and the girl was pained to see the cold diamonds of understanding glittering in the boy's eyes.

He now saw the steeplechase set out before them and knew that the girl needed to undertake this quest alone. In the Hope dreams enclosing around them, he knew it could only be her. Strewn along the path were sharp points and wavering Hopes. Bottomless pits and lakes to drown in. Doors on either side hid unknown demons and all he could do was scream from the sidelines.

And she was afraid.

Afraid of the sharp points and demons, the lakes and doors. But, most of all, she was afraid of the Hope. The cruelest challenge of all was hidden inside that Hope. And a plastic bag dream might not be enough.

The girl looked at the boy, resolve infused in every cell of her being. She held his hands. It's time. He nodded slowly, not willing to let her go, but knew why he must. As her fingers slipped from his, he looked away. He did not want to see her fall at the first jump. But he heard the steady pound of her feet and he knew she had been practicing for some time. She called out and he looked up - she had made it! He released the breath he had been holding for months.

The girl remained focused on the path. She did not look up - she could not even look at the boy. She could only concentate on the next hurdle and at each one she imagined the consequence of failure. It was not an option she could even have nighmares about and she sailed over each hurdle, avoided each obstacle and refused to look into any of the open doors.

Along the way, she found her rhythm. It was hard, but she could do it. The armour that she had prepared had been strong and the training had allowed her to anticipate every step. In the distance, she saw the end of the path. As it came closer, she saw the boy, wildly cheering her on. Hope was there too but she knew she couldn't face her yet. Too soon. Too frightening.

As she reached the end she collapsed into the boys strong arms. She was weak and her body had little reserves for her draw upon to assist him as he carried her home. I'm so proud of you, he smiled as his tears fell into hers. They held hands quiely as they awaited their verdict. They had left Hope at the doorstep, and there she waited with Tomorrow.

On the day of awareness, Hope kocked quietly at their door. Her answer warmed their hearts and their night was filled with joy and bubbles. They had passed this test and the boy could not help but be awed by all that the girl had done to secure their happiness. He floated high above them and turned cartwheels in the air. He wanted to sing to the world but the girl knew better. Quiet, for now.

Fear had now crept into her heart and she trusted him even less than Hope.

Her body knew that she had passed the test ... and she certainly knew that she had worked hard for it, but something about Fear's presence cautioned her. Hope was also busy holding hands with the boy and she felt uneasy about going out and hoping all on her own. She did not want to restrain the boy, but she warned him. There are still more tests to face and hurdles to jump. Please be careful with Hope.

The day of the next test arrived. Whilst still looking for Hope, who seemed to have disappeared that morning, she noticed that Fear had come along for the journey. He stood paitently to the side, but she soon noticed that he had been joined by Sorrow. She knew then that they were waiting for her and she stood at the starting line with her head bowed. If I don't look at them, maybe they won't be there, she thought. But she knew such a thought was futile. Just before she began, she stood tall and stared them confidently in the eye.

I'm ready, she said.

And she failed.

Fear and Sorrow moved in to embrace her, but the boy pushed them away. He held her as she lay crumpled on the ground and gently helped her to her feet. She looked back along the path which she had successfully navigated and realised that she was stronger than she had known. She remembered the pain and hardship, and then remembered also that she could. She looked once more at the boy. She knew they had failed this time, but she knew that she could do it again. She knew the path. She had memorised some of the trickier challenges. She knew now where she would stumble. And she had the boy.

Through the tears, she smiled up at the boy. When I get my strength back, I want to try it again. I know I can do it and I want to give you my promise. He brushed her hair out of her eyes and he held her face. He smiled back at her. I love you.

And she saw Hope smiling down over his shoulder.

Girth

2006-05-23T22:07:00.000+10:00

With the coming of the cold weather, I have been lucky enough to bring all of my winter clothes down from where they have been folded in the top of my wardrobe since September last year. I love winter dressing. Layers and scarves and boots and leather. I love the colours and textures of winter and I always look forward to this time of year.

This year, however, it's a different story entirely. To my absolute horror, nothing fits! Everything is just on the wrong side of snug and I am very grateful for the longer coats I am able to wear to cover up my enlarged behind. I've never been so full in my life. I'm not normally one to complain (or even think about) my weight as a rule, but the past few months of injections, bloating, pregnancy, wild hormones and the lack of exercise that that has accompanied all of that has lead to this growth in my girth. And I don't like it.

The couch-dwelling tribute to misery that has been me has developed a more grounded position on this blue-green planet. And now that it's cold and dark, I will have so many excuses to use to get out of any activity before and after work. I guess I can have comfort in the fact that my office is on the 3rd floor in a building nowhere near anything other than a whole bunch of classrooms, forcing me to leave the building if I need to go to the admin areas, to see my staff, to meet with my supervisors, to go to the library ... anything really. For the most part, I actually hate it that my office is so far away. The building is completely empty during lunchtimes and working back after school can sometimes be a little frightening when it's dark. But, I suppose my little bit of fitness will be able to thank me for it. And there's yoga, but even that has been in tha background a little lately.

I don't think I really thought about the impacts that IVF would have on my body. I thought I did, but clearly had no idea. I have always been prone to bloating before my period and I think I thought it would be something a little like that. Haha! Amplified by 500 and we're getting a little closer. And the few weeks of pregnancy tipped it over the edge. Having never experienced that before, I did not at all comprehend the ways in which the hormones would affect every part of me. My mind, my emotions, my energy, my breasts, my bladder, my hair, my whole body. And then gone, but the hormones still partying on right until the end. The guests who wouldn't leave, even though the lights have been turned on and there are no more drinks being served any more.

A cruel reminder of what was.

But, it's my birthday tomorrow. Even though AdventureBoy won't be home tomorrow night. He's going to the football with my Dad (a big game that he has managed to get free tickets for). I actually told him it was OK to go as I knew he was so excited about the opportunity and I love it that he and my father get on so well. He truly is the son that my Dad never had. Until tonight, it was OK. And it's still OK ... but I really wish he wasn't going now.

My wonderful, bisexual, vegetarian, artist friend, Fifi, is coming over to cook me dinner. He has always been there for me (and I for him) for a big part of our lives. He looked at my garden on Sunday to get an idea of the menu for the evening. He is so excited to be cooking for someone as he lives alone and has just broken up with his most recent boyfriend. I'll have my nephew as well because my sister is presenting at a conference, so it will kind of feel like family. Just not the same. Not AdventureBoy and I will miss him.

And now I've got to just stop feeling sorry for my self and go to bed! Things could be worse (platitude, platitude!) and I AM grateful for all of the good things I have in my life (there's just one little thing missing).

Sweet dreams ... star dreaming ... twinkle little moonbeam ... goodnight ...

Thank You

2006-05-23T22:06:00.000+10:00

Cobwebs in my Mind

2006-05-22T22:31:00.000+10:00

I sometimes wonder how I feel about the fact that no-one actually reads any of this stuff that I write here. At times, I wish I had at least somebody to make their comments, tell me I'm normal, give me advice. But really, I know that I get so much out of it anyway. I have always journalled since I got my first diary as a gift for my 7th birthday. It had Snoopy on the front and tiny little key so that I could lock it. I hid it from my two younger sisters (and my mother of course) and wrote in it every single night until it ran out. I still have this diary and every couple of years I get it out and giggle at my naive and curious 7-year-old self. I was actually rather poetic at times - I'll find it again and quote some bits from it. Kinda cute really.

It was written at a time soon after the cobwebs mentioned in my profile comment. When I was five, I told my teacher that sometimes it felt like I had cobwebs in my mind. She laughed at me and told me that maybe I was just thinking about too many things and I should go outside and play with the other kids. I was fairly deflated after this and tried to remember all of the things I had been thinking about that would make cobwebs. I didn't mention it again to anyone else until I was in Year 3 and I wrote a poem and called it 'The Cobwebs in my Mind'. It was for display at our school open day and I proudly took my parents to show them my classroom. As soon as we walked in, my teacher sent me to talk with some other children while she spoke with my parents.

After a while, they were laughing, and she took them over to my poem. "Here it is", she laughed. "Cobwebs". My parents laughed with her and I vaguely heard their words through the sound of my pounding heartbeats, floating and snagging in those very same cobwebs. "Too curious" ... "questions everything" ... "daydreamer" ... "knows too much" ... "what would she know about cobwebs?"

I was crushed. Each comment and smirk tore through the cobwebs, the slivers like glass penetrating through my veins and down to my heart. I turned away and left the room, the tears stinging my proud eyes. I knew exactly what I meant by cobwebs and I still feel them there to this day. The first web was spun when I was too young to say no and continued to be spun until I said no more. But that's another story. Many more have gathered dust in the unlit corners and dark recesses of my privacy. Infertility is just another one and the owner of that web has been carefully repairing every hole and false hope to almost perfection with each passing month.

When we left the school, they asked, what do you mean by the cobwebs? The jokes and laughs at my expense had cautioned me well. Oh, nothing, I just thought it sounded good. They laughed again, perhaps relieved that they didn't have to delve. Well you know, nobody has cobwebs in their mind darling.

Yes, I know.

So, when I think about the fact that I am writing this all alone and to help clear (or at least acknowledge) my cobwebs, I am OK with that. I have always written for myself and this is just another version of that. But it is more than just catharsis ... it is my record. My artefact. Just like my previous journals have always been. I do miss the lovely bound covers and the feel of the pen on beautiful paper. Maybe I'll keep them up as well (although at the moment, I'm loving this medium). The only downfall is that I can't draw on these pages too. I'll have to see what I can do.

Birthdays

2006-05-19T16:31:00.000+10:00

May is the biggest month for birthdays for us. This week was AdventureBoy's and next week is mine. Hi step-mother's was the week before too and one of my very close friends is the week after mine. Normally this would be such a busy and fun time of the year for us. Lots of social events to look forward to and good wine to be drunk. But this year, all it does is remind me that another year has passed and I am no closer to the goal we set out to achieve 2 years ago.

It was just after AB's 40th. We waited until I had my 36th so we didn't have the hurdles of worrying about not drinking and naively thought I'd be pregnant by July. I even thought I wouldn't be able to go skiing that year. We had only been married in the December before and didn't start trying on our honeymoon as I didn't want to possibly be feeling sick and dealing with international travel! Right.

And next week I'll be 38. I've seen all the graphs and read all of the articles. This is when the big drop starts to happen. When IVF success rates decline and miscarriages increase. I never thought I'd still be here 2 years down the track, unwilling to even think about celebrating my birthday with either my family or my friends. This birthday just represents failure to me.

Right now, I have been unable to face many of my pre-IF friends, many who are either pregnant or have 1,2 or more. I find every moment with them or just talking to them painful. The sound of kids screaming in the background while on the phone, timing of dinners or other events revolved around the kids, and the constant reminder that none of this is mine.

Last Friday night was my MILs birthday also. The week before I had my D&C due to the 8week M/C (none of them knew anything of this). I could barely cope and it was all I could do to stop myself from crying all night, with 'Granny' calling all of her grandchildren to gather around for a photo and AB signing the card from us and our cat and 2 dogs (like they're the only ones we're ever going to have). I just sat there all night feeling more and more miserable, with no-one to add to the Granny photo and no-one to write their own messy name on the card. My SIL was talking of trying for #2, but commenting all the time that she wasn't even sure if she even wanted another one because it was so hard. And she had her career to think about. The other SIL has 3 beautiful sons, but constantly talks about the fact that she wished she could have at least had one girl.

I would be ecstatic with at least one of anything! AB and I had the biggest fight when we got home as he thought I was just being grumpy all night. And then it all came out. I have not cried so much since all of this began. I howled and howled and poor AB didn't know what he had started. But he finally understood my hurt and, more importantly, my fear of being childless forever. I am so ready right now and it's hard to keep having hope. It's a scary place that I don't even want to consider.

I think I'm over birthdays for this year.

Where did she go?

2006-05-19T11:58:00.000+10:00

I am feeling a lot better today, but I have taken the day off anyway. I am still a little physically fragile but, more than anything, I am feeling incredibly emotionally fragile. I could cry with ease if you asked me to (or if you were just nice to me!) and I have lost all motivation or inclination to do anything. I have hermitted myself away from the world and I really just want to be alone with AdventureBoy. I am just now waiting for him to come home for lunch and I really, really want him to be here soon.

I have never been so dependant before in my whole life. My mother used to feel unwanted at my need to 'do it myself!' and when I started my first day of school at the tender age of 4 1/2 years old, I turned and waved to her tears and said "don't cry - you'll be alright without me".

And now I need someone like I've never needed them before. I don't need or want anyone else - I just need him. I kind of feel fairly pathetic about it really. The strong, capable, successful, intelligent woman that I was seems to have left home. Oh, and fit! She was fit and slim too. And now she is nowhere to be found. Poor AdventureBoy. I am sure he is struggling more than he lets on, wondering where the StellaNova he fell in love with and married has gone. She has been replaced with a couch-dweller who is quiet, tearful, lonely and obsessed. She has gained weight and lost any of the energy or vibrancy she once had.

We both miss her.

This is not meant to be a boastful memorial to the fabulous person I once was. I never even really saw or acknowledged that I was any of those things at the time. But, in hindsight, I can see what I have lost. I don't know where to start looking for her again, but I instinctively feel that I need to find her again if my relationship or my career are to survive.

AdventureBoy is home now. And I am so grateful.

Pristine

2006-05-17T14:45:00.000+10:00

I'm just home from the surgery now, feeling a little dizzy and ready to sleep again (which I will do in just about 5 more minutes).

I was right and she was wrong. Silly grumpy cow.

Of course now I think that perhaps she could have been wrong about other things, but when Dr Challenge came to see me following the procedure, he reassured me that while she was wrong about the fibroid, he was absolutley certain that the pregnancy was definitely fated to end. He said, absolutely no fibroid in what he described as a 'pristine cavity'. Perfect he said. Ready. Especially since I only had the D&C 2 weeks ago. He even said he has a video to show me about it when I go in for my post-op visit next week.

I wonder if I should bring popcorn?

I feel so wonderfully relieved right now, but I think I just need to have a little nap ...

Submarine ahoy!

2006-05-16T21:38:00.000+10:00

So I haven't written for a while. Busy ... working ... moping. You know how it is.

And I'm back in for surgery tomorrow. Can't wait. I'll be having a hysteroscopy so that Dr Challenge can have a look at the fibroid that was spotted on the ill-fated ultrasound. If it really is projecting into the uterus he'll be scraping it off with some rather frightening looking instrument. Of course I trust Dr Challenge, but Dr Google has been telling me all about the horrible things which could happen and how horrible that even a straightforward version will be.

I'm hoping more than anything that the grumpy ultrasound operator just got it wrong and there is no fibroid protruding into my uterus. That it is in the wall of my uterus instead (or even just a figment of the sound waves' imagination). I just wish I was normal. That my body worked how it was supposed to and I was about 5 years younger. Of course, then I would be with the nymphomaniac ex-boyfriend inheriting herpes and genital warts and we really don't want to go back there again. It would be good if just my body but not my time was back there again.

I feel less than articulate tonight. I'm not scared, but sad about tomorrow. My thoughts are so scattered ... I wish it wasn't this way. I don't want more anaesthetic, no more painkillers, no more needles in my veins. I REALLY don't want my insides to be cut into again. But, more than anything, I want a baby.

It's AdventureBoy's birthday tomorrow. I have been so preoccupied I keep forgetting about it. I bought him a perfect card months ago, and tickets for Ben Harper tomorrow night, but I feel like I'm being a bad wife for not caring enough (and I'm worried that I might feel too crap to to actually go). He'll be 42 - and it doesn't matter for his fertility! I am so jealous of the fact that our bodies are designed to stop, to change, to be ravanged by the effects of hormones. Once they're out of puberty, guys have a pretty stable existence all round on that front.

He has all of his golf gear laid out on the table ready for his birthday game tomorrow morning. He doesn't want to wake me as they're teeing off at dawn. I think I'll go and write on his card now and leave it on his clothes.

Warning - long and soppy post ahead!

2006-05-08T18:12:00.000+10:00

I went and saw Dr Challenge this afternoon. I have been having quite severe cramping since Saturday night and needed another day off work today due to the horrendous pain and dreadful sleep I had last night. There has actually been very little blood, but it feels like the worst period pain I get, as well as also being worse when either my bowel or bladder are full. Dr Challenge thinks I might have a mild infection and has put me on antibiotics for 5 days to clear anything up.

Just when I made my determined decision to get my life and health back into order. Lucky I made a new batch of yoghurt on Saturday - I'll need all of those acidophilisses and bifidises now! And, there's more. Because I clearly need to be absent from work as much as possible and can't really go a few weeks without some anaesthetic of some kind or another, I am going back in next Wednesday. Dr Challenge said"I would like to have a look at those fibroids that were mentioned on your ultrasound report."

Great. Even more detox on the cards. Even more reason to stay committed to this super health approach. Not that I have much choice I suppose. Unfortunately, the fibroids were the only things growing during this pregnancy. Dr Challenge said that the report said that one of the fibroids was identified as 'submucous', which are the ones that project into the uterine cavity and can impact on implantation or miscarriage. He's not sure that it will actually be there, but if it is he will remove it there and then and hopefully I will just heal quickly. He said he doesn't want to risk wasting a cycle and an embryo if that's going to be in the way.

Bummer though, it's AdventureBoy's birthday and we have tickets to go and see Ben Harper at our local entertainment centre. Oh well, don't mind me ... I'll just walk gingerly and fall alseep mid-show. General anaesthetic always makes me noddy for a day or two afterwards. I don't exactly know how I'm going to explain this one at work without telling someone the truth (or some version of the truth anyway).

I phoned my friend, Sweetie, this afternoon. She is one of my dearest friends who I have known for 14 years now. We actually work together, although we work in different departments and she only works part-time and we never get a chance to talk during the day, and usually catch up after school or during weekends. She always knows exactly the right things to say in any sitiation and always has the most sensitive approach to anything that might be difficult in any way. She is insightful, intuitive and I can't believe I didn't speak to her about any of this before now. Well, I can actually, but I'm really glad I did today.

Funny, but she knew anyway. I can't believe her intuition and compassion. She had noticed that I was away last week and when she found out I was again today she said: "is this about IVF?" I can't believe she could do that. Of course she has known that we have been trying without success but I have not said anything to her about it. We have been through so much with each other (including supporting each other through unfaithful husbands, sexually transmitted diseases, divorce and finding love again). Our 14 years together have created one of those bonds which do not have to be attended to every day to be strong. I am eternally grateful for her words and feelings today.

She also suffered a miscarriage before her first child (who is now almost 6) and, even though she had every right to say that she understood the feelings, she had the compassion to say, "but I can imagine it would be so much harder for you, after going through IVF to achieve it." And she even understood my complaints about Mrs Precious. Her comments, "well, I wouldn't know, but I don't think anyone could understand anyone else's infertility unless they've been there - I've heard that it's just as traumatic and stressful as those suffering from a terminal illness." Not that I could even dream of comparing myself to the life-threatening nature of terminal illness, but her words were full of a desire to understand.

You may wonder why I took so long to tell her? I have known all of these qualities for many years (which is why I have been her friend for so long). But she has her own issues to deal with and I didn't want to burden her with mine. And I just didn't feel like I wanted to tell anyone. She understood exactly why I hadn't and even added a few reasons of her own. She is a single mother of two very active and intelligent boys. Her ex-husband is a total dickhead and continues to provide her with grief even though they have been separated for 4 1/2 years. Her new (2 years now) boyfriend is an OK guy, but she knows he is not 'the one' and stays with him because "the boys love him and he helps me out". She is the youngest of 9 kids and there are numerous family issues going on at any one time.

So, after today, I love her even more. And I feel a strange kind of relief. I didn't want to tell my sister as her support and compassion would be too close. I speak to her several times a day and see her at least every second day. I certainly wouldn't tell Mrs Precious and my other friends would be wonderful, but live too far away or have other things going on. Sweetie would be there every day if I needed her, or once a month without prying if I didn't. She is close enough for me to visit but distant enough for me to withdraw. She is never overt in her concern, but pragmatic, realistic and sensitive. I am happy and feel warmed by her knowledge, if that makes sense?

And it takes some of the pressure off AdventureBoy who is just about to serve dinner that he has made. I know I am married to the most supportive and wonderful man for me. I know it's been hard for him too and he has done everything within his power to ease the burden for me. He doesn't always know the right thing to say and suffers my wrath at times ... and for still understanding and staying himself, I love him even more.

Sorry for a bit of a long and soppy post today. I don't know if it's hormones or lack of sleep, but I am feeling so touched by anyone who is showing me kindness at the moment.

And now, it's time for dinner.

Life ... and other thoughts

2006-05-06T18:34:00.000+10:00

I thought I needed to write about something else for a change. I'm right now watching my favourite gardening program on tv. I actually don't watch too much tv - I'm usually far too busy! But today I have been coming to this major position of completely reevaluating the way I live my life. Perhaps not my home practices so much - I love my life at home. My garden, my cooking, my furry babies. My plans, my books, my broadband. My bath, my bed, my comfy couch. All of those things are good. Really, all it's just waiting for is the real babies.

The miaow is Siena and she will be 14 this year. She keeps the dogs under control - that's one of their mats she decided to sleep on and they won't go near hear as she rules the roost. If she wants the mat, she gets it! The big dog is Reuben and he's the baby and a big sook - only 2 years old - and Luna, she will be 4 this year. We love them desperately and AdventureBoy is absolutely committed to the dogs. Siena has been with me since I finished uni and even though she loves him when he feeds her, she's mine.

I think it's work more than anything. I put in so much effort to get to where I am and I'm not sure that I like it anymore. I'm the head of a middle school in a much bigger school and I love a lot of it, especially working with the kids and my staff. But there is little room for anything other than 200% commitment as a leader which, prior to infertility, was never a problem for me. And I was happy with it. AdventureBoy and I are both driven professionals and we encourage each other to achieve our best.

But now, with my focus very elsewhere, it's hard. I need information about what has been happening to me, as much as I can get, and I am reading, researching, ranting and assimilating. All of my spare time and mental energy is devoted to this pursuit and work is becoming more difficult and more of an imposition with each passing month. I'm not sure I actually have an answer to my dilemma. We cant' afford (and I wouldn't like it anyway) for me to stop working. I'm certainly not going to step down from my position. I guess I just need to work on ways of keeping it in balance.

And I want more time to complete my thesis. I love doing it but I never have time. I want to finish all of my research and preliminary writing by the end of this year. Then I can write, edit and submit sometime next year (depending on the success of my quest). Doesn't sound unreasonable ... I just have to work out how I can make it happen.

Well, I think that's it for tonight.

Yoghurt, Chocolate and Red Wine

2006-05-06T12:52:00.000+10:00

I have just realised what a novice I am in the world of blogs. Over the past few days I have been devouring the blogs of others who have had similar experiences. I have been awed, I have been informed, I have been humbled and I have been hopeful. I am not always sure of the foundations for this hope as not all of the stories have the happy ending I crave. And even those who do achieve success don't always have it happy.

So what do I do?

Do I just keep blogging, hoping, wishing, working? I am thinking about cycle 2 ... after Saint Anne had told me it had worked the first time, I had started thinking that cycle 2 wouldn't be until I wanted child 2. I realise now how naive that assumption was. Cycle 2 could just be another one in the long line of many. (Of course, AdventureBoy thinks it will be the one which works).

But I think I have become stronger over the past few days. And certainly a whole lot more determined. I realised that I had become a little too complacent during the whole thing. Put so much faith and trust in the technology that I lost persepctive of the whole picture. As I reflect on it now, I really don't know how I reached this state. I am the last person to hand over complete trust to mainstream medicine.

I have been a little bit alternative and a lot herbal my whole life (well, since I have had control of it that is, when I left home at 19). I eat organically and grow my own vegies. I never visit doctors and have only had a regular one in the past year and a half since infertility began. I was fully vegetarian for 10 years until I started introducing fish on the advice of my naturopath and, more recently, occasionally free-range organic chicken. I use no chemical cleaning products. I make my own bread, yoghurt, sprouts, muesli and anything else that I can do with some success. I practice yoga, have regular Chinese and shiatsu massage, as well as reiki, kinesiology and I see a fabulous alternative chiropractor. So why did I hand it all over? I don't if I can explain it - I don't know if I even know.

I think part of it was that I just didn't have any answers. And that I didn't want to miss out. After my major surgery in which Dr Challenge removed 8 fibroids, a large endometrioma in my right ovary and extensive endometriosis, I cried. My healthy life and awareness had not prevented this. Heredity was too strong and I had waited too long. At 37 (when the surgery happened) my never-been-pregnant body had had plenty of time to develop all of these horrible things to prevent future pregnancy. Removing the fibroids opened my tubes again - I could never have done that without the technology and I started to see it in a new light.

My mother, at my age, had a full hysterectomy due to fibroids. She had already had 3 children in her 20s, so that was no problem to her. But I'm just trying for my first and I feel futile against the invisible developments in my body which I'm not sure I can fight in my own ways.

But, back to the determination. I let some of my previously healthy practices slip. I think I had lost a little faith in them and handed control over to medicine. But now, I realise I need them even more, to help me get through the tortures that IVF inflicts upon my body. And, maybe, just maybe, to help the next one stick. So, I have started again today with a vengeance. I told my ever supportive sister (who, by the way, still knows none of this) that I was going to become a health vigilante again and her reply, I was wondering where she had gone.

Of course, I still love my red wine, and my organic chocolate, and my french champagne, and my morning cup of tea. These are my sometimes vices and I think I might still need them sometimes to stay sane and not too ascetic. But as for the rest, I have to do it. I don't ever want to be thinking 'what if?' when some of those 'if's' are in my control. Poor AdventureBoy. He knows that when I am like this, he has no hope.

You count too, I told him last night. You have your rations now.
I know, he said, resignedly. But can't I have just one more glass of wine?
When I'm pregnant.

Empty

2006-05-04T16:31:00.000+10:00

As I sit here, probably feeling mournfully sorry for myself, I think I also feel relieved. If it wasn't going to work, I'm glad we found out now, rather than weeks further into the hope and expectation.

We went and saw Dr Challenge on Tuesday evening. My blood results were clearly indicating that there was no hope and the ultrasound had already stated the same thing. I was disappointed, although I thought I would have been worse. I suppose I had been preparing myself for this since Friday. I knew. Any symptoms I had were all but gone and in my heart I knew it was no longer there.

"I have a space tomorrow morning for surgery", said Dr Challenge. Oh shit! So soon? Could I have tomorrow off so easily? I mentally ran through all of my meeting and appointments - and then mentally slapped myself around the head a bit. I always put work first and, in this, I need to start putting me first. "OK, I'm in."

I phoned the day surgery in the morning and they had all of my details ready to go in front of them.
"StellaNova, yes! I was going to phone but didn't need to wake you up too early. We have all of your information from last time, so just turn up. We'll have a bed waiting for you."

All of the familiar faces and all of the familiar smiles. "Clear the way, StellaNova coming through." And before I knew it I was in. Dr Challenge still pondering his latest challenge: "I just don't know what went wrong?"

He had told me the night before that the fact that they had both implanted first time was a good sign. "I have much better success with eventual pregnancy when this happens." AdventureBoy held my hand and smiled at me: "See?" AdventureBoy, the eternal optimist. Even in the face of overwhelming adversity, he can always be relied upon to see the positive.

Before infertility, every month: this is the one, I just know it! Every month, when it wasn't: it will be next one, I just know it! After transfer: this is going to work, I just know it! And then it did! See, I told you it would! And then, after the ultrasound on Friday: well, she said it might be just too soon. It will be right, I just know it!

It has been hard at times not to become infuriated at the impossibility of his certainty. You can't just know it all the time, I stamp my petulant foot at him. But you have to stay positive, his buoyant reply. You have to be realistic, I always say in a small voice. Because my heart will break with the disappointment if I don't.

After the appointment with Dr Challenge: well, now we have a month to try for it to work naturally. It's hard not to smile at his naivety. I know he keeps me from going too far the other way. Not that I am prone tp depression or pessimism, and I am certainly not a quitter. But my realism can sometimes offer little room for hope, especially for an AdventureBoy who only sees the sky as the limit.

And so I fall into the safety net. Lucky it's there, I hadn't really noticed it before I started on the tight-rope. The helping hands of AdventureBoy, Dr Challenge and St Anne help me to the side again. I pause to catch my breath - it was a long way down and the fall was a little frightening. St Anne points to the ladder. "When you're ready, StellaNova, we can help you climb again." Dr Challenge nods calmly. AdventureBoy rubs my neck and runs to get me a cool drink. I look up again. The tight-rope is almost invisible from here. But I know what it looks like now. I know what to expect and I think I'll be better at it this time. I've even learnt a few more juggling tricks to woo the crowd.

Right-o then! What are we waiting for?

Has hope left already?

2006-04-29T09:36:00.000+10:00

I have been away with no access to a computer or the internet. It's been killing me without my lifeline and only the securely pregnant Mrs Precious to inform and lecture. But more about that later.

We got home on Thursday afternoon, exhausted from the hours of travel we had done in the past two days to get back. Friday was my 7 week 'viability scan'. The very name of it has kept me uncertain this whole time, as well as feeling completely normal beside Mrs Precious' sick and self-imposed fragile state. I was hungry - sure. And tired. Breasts growing and sore(ish) - sometimes more than others. But an undercurrent swamping me ... there should be more.

Mrs Precious: I'd be very surprised if you didn't get sick too.
StellaNova: Why?
Mrs Precious: Because you're so old.

Gape-mouthed and speechless, I simply looked at her and laughed. I wished I had never told her, but spending extended holiday time with another couple made it difficult to act in privacy. I ususally love a glass or three with company and good food - it was very obvious that I wasn't. On reflection, it might have been easier than I thought - Mrs Precious was only noticing, thinking about, and talking about herself.

Continue conversation: And I don't want you to feel good if I have to feel sick.

Of course! It's all about you!

I wish I could have told her to 'shut the fuck up' like I did a few weeks ago as she was grilling me about what I was trying to do to become pregnant. 'I'm pregnant now - I wan't you to be too'. 'I'm private' I told her. But the need for a playmate was her primary goal. She harassed, I deflected. Finally, 'If I'm asking too much, just tell me to shut the fuck up'.

Shut the fuck up.

But back to the scan.

As soon as AdventureBoy and I walked into the scanning room I felt ominous dread. It wasn't the same room I had always had and it wasn't the same operator. She barely looked at me and I felt like she barely had time for me. She was silent whilst frowning at the screen. But I could see what wasn't there. There were two sacs (two! I hadn't even really considered the possibility that they would both stick), but there was not blinking heartbeat in either of them, like I knew I would be expecting to see.

I shut down. AdventureBoy was squinting at the screen with no idea about what he was supposed to be looking at. He looked at me, but I could give him nothing. I was consumed with the pressure on my chest.

There were what I thought were shadows in the centre of each of the sacs, but then she moved the wand and they were gone. For the briefest millisecond I thought I saw a flicker in one, but then it was gone too. Ms Silent began to speak. 'Either it's too early or there's nothing there. But with what you've been through, we know your dates. It's unlikely to be too early'. My heart was squeezed. 'It's certainly not what we like to see at this stage'.

Stupidly, I asked no more questions. I did not note the measurements and I didn't ask about the shadows. 'You'll probably need to go for blood tests and come back again in a couple of weeks for another scan. I'll send a full report to Dr Challenge - he'll have it in an hour and you can phone him then'.

'They close on Friday afternoons', barely a whisper.
'Well you'll have to call him on Monday'.

Right. Thanks. I glanced and the printouts of the scans as we left and didn't even ask to keep one.

Goodbye hope.

Oh

2006-04-09T16:25:00.000+10:00

It's not the answer I expected ... and I'm still not sure if I believe it, but it is. At least that's what Saint Anne told me anyway.

I had justified away every feeling I had been having (feeling more flatulent than anything else really) and was not at all expecting the answer.

I am. It's a place I have never been before. I didn't know how to recognise it and I still don't know how it's different. The urgent midnight bladder and the painful cramps if I don't get to it soon enough are the only things which are new. Yesterday I felt so completely normal I was quite sure they had made a mistake.

Maybe they have?
Maybe it's just a dream?
Maybe I am?

I spoke to Saint Meagan when I returned the call. 11am they called me and I could hear excitement in their voice on my message bank.
"Don't get your hopes up" I told myself. "You've been doing that every month for two years now. Protect your heart."
Right-o!

But I was wrong and they told me 126. Not a huge number, but a good number, they said, and I released the breath I had been holding for weeks.

Oh.

Really?

Oh, yes!

They must hear this every time ... what do I do now? They laughed and I am on my way. I have reached the end of the tightrope, but I'm not off the platform yet. It will be a long time before I can descend the ladder and move blinkingly out of the Big Top. All is not over and I am scared.

AdvetureBoy wanted to start telling people straight away. It took a great deal of persuasion to convince him that we're not ready for an audience yet ... hopefully soon ... but not yet. He is disappointed but comes home that afternoon with flowers and fabulous champagne.

"I can't drink that now." He is deflated, but not for long. He is too excited to be contained.

I share his thrill but I am still cautious. There's a long way to go yet.

Almost there

2006-04-06T20:58:00.000+10:00

Tomorrow.

I want the answer but I'm scared to get it.

I don't know what to expect - I don't know how to read my body anymore. Every feeling, every twinge, every cramp. Is it, isn't it, is it?

On Monday morning, I stopped the Crinone gel.
"That's all you need" said Saint Anne. Of course, immediate paranoia set in. She told me that it had been to create a nurturing environment for the embryo.
"But doesn't it still need a nurturing environment!?" I asked, with a particular whine in my voice that I always hate.
"Your body takes over now" she replied.

Well, given it's track record, I've lost a little confidence in my body's ability to do the right thing these days. I figured, however, that they probably actually knew a little bit about what they're talking about and just wait until Friday.

And then, on Monday night I developed the strongest feeling of period pain. After years of endo, I know so well the feeling of period pain. I became angry, frustrated, disappointed and sad. I felt so much right then that it was all over. My body just wasn't up to the task of taking over. I went to the bathroom every half hour to check. The pain stopped and started and I woke up in agony at 3am with a full bladder.

But still no bleed. I figured that it was on it's way, but I have been waiting all week.

AdventureBoy, of course, thinks that this means that it has worked. I, of course, am not so confident. That feeling always means a period for me. And I have no other feelings so far that couldn't be explained as just the usual premenstrual symptoms. I have been bloated, and quite full of gas as well (noice!). Any eating seems to trigger it, no matter how bland. But I don't feel pukey at all. My breasts are a little tender, but no more than they normally are (maybe a little bit more today, but not significantly). I am not tired and I am not even particularly hungry. Really, I just haven't had a period yet, but I don't even know when it is due.

I have resisted the temptation to buy a pregnancy test. I haven't even told AdventureBoy that we could. I don't want to have the 'maybe yes, maybe no' uncertainty. I can have uncertainty every second of every day all on my own thanks very much.

Every night, I have climbed onto the lounge with all of my supplied around me; laptop, phone, tv remote, newspaper, several magazine, journal, pens and books. The cat joins me sometimes as well. Every night I have planned to write here. But I have discovered the lure of other people's blogs and I can't tear myself away. So much pain, so many common experiences, so much humour. I have been desperately and frantically searching for stories of the 'two week wait'. How did others feel? What were the outcomes? Who got pregnant and who didn't?

I think I have become addicted.

At least it's passed some of the time. but it certainly hasn't made my time any easier. Cramps can either mean your period is on it's way or you're pregnant. Sore breasts can either mean your period is on it's way or you're pregnant. Bloating can either mean your period is on it's way or you're pregnant. You can understand my confusion. The only definitive answer is the blood test (or a period).

And that's tomorrow.

But I still feel like the period is about to start at any moment. The pain hasn't actually been too bad today, but there have been moments. I am sitting with a heat pack right now,and have been all week. I am very bloated and feel huge. Sometimes the pain has been just on the left side (the side they retreived most of the eggs from), but mostly it has been low and deep cramping. I just don't know.

I had a fabulous massage today. This was the only time, however, that my breasts have felt more uncomfortable than my regular premenstrual breasts. Laying face down was a bit of a challenge, but I got used to it. As I lay there, I wondered if I had ever had a massage whilst premenstrual before? Maybe I've just never experienced this sensation before.

I tell you, it's mind-bending! I look for every sign and then just as quickly explain it away. My masseur (who is a bit of a herb) told me that during the "off-body energy work" she felt that my root chakra was very strong, "a lot of power and energy there" as she held her hands over my abdomen. "But your intuition", she tapped me on the lower chest, "your intuition feels blocked - what intuition are you not listening to?"

As I left, I kept wondering. I don't know. I can't listen because I don't think I know the language.

I guess I'll just have to wait until tomorrow.

All of my fingers and toes are crossed.

The Big Day

2006-03-29T22:10:00.000+11:00

I haven't been able to talk about it until now. I'm really not actually sure why - I just needed a little distance from it.

Saint Anne phoned me soon after I last wrote and asked if I could come in a little earlier.

Shit.
OK.

I phoned AdventureBoy who was planning to meet me there after his early morning meeting. Message bank. Shit.

Oh well, time to go!

Saint Anne took me through the secret back entrance into the Big Top. Just through here, it will all be fine. She pulled the curtain aside and I stepped into the bright, glaring light. I turned to say goodbye, but she was gone.

I was in my gown and waiting in the pre-op room when Dr I Love a Challenge finally arrived. I had already been spoken to by Helga, my new scientist, who had broken the news, in broken English, that I only had two blastocysts to transfer.

Only two?
But there were eight?

That is true, but this is what happens. It can be very disappointment. But OK, there are two. They are not perfect as we like, but they are medium.

What does that mean?

They are not bottom. They are not top - they are middle. But the bit that becomes baby is verry good. Lots of cells. Very dense.

She left and I was quite calm. I surprised myself and I found myself thinking, well at least there are two. There's still hope. I started my new hope page in my new tiny sketch book.

I closed it quickly when Dr Challenge opened the curtain. Too private. Too much of my soul. What is that?
Oh, just some stuff.
Show me.
No way, pretty boy! You get to see every other part of me - this one's mine.
Where's AdventureBoy?
He's on his way, we're just a little earlier than he expected.
No problems, plenty of time, you're th eonly one transferring today.

??

What happened to all of the others?

They didn't make it. Yours were the only ones that went this far.

I felt even closer to my two right then. Strong little buggers! Despite my inexperienced juggling, they had still managed to stay in the air for 5 days.
So, because we've only got two, I'm going to go against everything I usually suggest and implant both! They're not good enough to freeze, and we don't want to just throw them away. How do you feel about twins?

AdventureBoy walked in at that point.
What?! Do you know that already?

Cue knowing and slightly condescending chuckle from Dr Challenge. He explained the situation again and AdventureBoy just sat there grinning.
Bring it on!

Transfer

And then we were in the darkened room.
Scientist Helga was there as well as another very competent looking nurse, ready to begin.

I suddenly became very, very nervous.

Do you want to see your embryos?

As they came into somewhat blurry focus on the screen, AdventureBoy held my hand and smiled. I even think there was a tear.

And then the fun began with an important medical question:
Have you heli-skied?
He and AdventureBoy swapped ski stories until Dr Challenge shoved a cold, wet swab inside the speculum.

Cue enraged yelp from me! What the ...?!
Sorry!

Righto, but the rest will be OK. I knew what to expect from here. Slip it in and be on your way.

Perhaps in some people's worlds!!

Those without a twisted cervix that is. Their worlds. Certainly not mine!

As Dr Challenge attempted to insert the catheter, I could feel it poking at a place inside I had never been able to feel before. I held my breath and then let it go in a long, slow exhale. It's OK, this bit doesn't hurt.

What about Aspen? Been there?

Owwww!

Does that hurt?

Yes!

Real pain?

What other kind is there?

Oh, you know, anxiety.

Owwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!! Tears were running down my face and AdventureBoy took my hand again. No more ski conversations now.

This was the most excruciating pain I think I had ever endured. So much for slip it in! Dr Challenge tried a number of different catheter sizes to avoid damaging the canal. Everything he did felt like hot burning needles in a place I could never reach to remove. It was agony. I was panting and holding my breath in equal amounts. Sister Sensible patted my head and wiped away my tears.

I was N OTprepared for this. No slipping in and out for me.

Dr Challenge finally decided he had worked out the problem. I had a kinky canal. Lucky me. Whilst I cried and panted, the softest and smallest catheter was wriggled and prodded and twisted and then it was gone. Like he'd taken it out again, but he was through.

That's more like it. Scientist Helga, are they ready?

He treaded them through and after all of that waiting, crying, injecting, juggling, they were in. Just like that. He withdrew the catheter and Helga checked that they hadn't stayed behind on the ride. Sometimes they stay for just one more spin. Then Dr Challenge checked inside me.

And there they were.

Perfect, Dr Challenge boasted. Look what your fabulous Doctor has just done for you. They couldn't be in a better place.

I hope so.

Perhaps we should go skiing sometime.
With a hug from Dr Challenge, I hobbled to the recovery room. And back to the tightrope.

I just hope I can keep them safe.

Today's the Day

2006-03-27T08:33:00.000+11:00

OK, it's about the start. I have my appointment at 9.30am and I'll be in for the transfer. Right now, I have no idea how many are still there waiting for us. There could still be eight, or maybe there could only be a few. Or one.

That would be hard.

I had my blood test early this morning (although not early enough it seems - I got into trouble from the front desk woman at the Leech Factory.

We thought you'd all be in at 7!

Oh, I was told by 7.30. (took note of time with a surreptitious glance at my watch ... all good, 7.25)

Well it doesn't give us much time ... and none of the others have turned up yet!

I'm taking actually sure what I was supposed to do about them not being there, but I let out a sympathetic and non-commital, Oh.

And all the others who are here get upset when you girls just come in and jump the queue ahead of them.

For god's sake, I screamed. I have been here about 28 times in the past month!!!! Surely I get some degree of special treatment! I'm a VIP member by now. I should just get waved through like when I was 22 and my boyfriend was 'in the band' ... It's OK, I'm on the door! Followed by hushed whispers of awe, she's on the list! Indulgent smiles passed their way, maybe you'll get here one day. But for now, you'll just have to wait in line like the rest of the fabulous nobodies.

Well, that's what I thought at least.

All I really said was,

right.

My witty and slightly manic retort stuck silently in my throat. And I felt like shit, Nerves, bad pizza, or the effects of too many glasses of champagne at Designer Baby's christening.

A sign?

2006-03-25T13:56:00.000+11:00

Another sign ... another star ...

I have just taken the sheets from my bed to wash them. As I did, there was a star of blood on my pillow slip. AdventureBoy's blood. This morning, he had cut his finger and when he leant over to give me a kiss goodbye as I slept he left blood on the pillow slip. In the shape of a star. Our star?

Still wishing ...

Now there are 8?

2006-03-25T10:10:00.000+11:00

How does that happen? I started with 13 eggs, which became 7 embryos, which this morning are now 8 embryos. I hope that's a good thing. I was so dreading th ephone call this morning, expecting that I would hear that none of them had made it .. or only one or two. But to be told there are more, that's not at all a scenario I had run through in my mind.

"Roll up, roll up, the show's about to begin ..."

I think 2 of them don't sound very strong. She told me the details ('she' being the scientist I met on Wednesday who looked a bit like a supermodel): 3 eggs at 8 cells; 2 at 6 cells; 1 at 4 and 1 at 3. But, she who was nothing at all is now 5 cells! Supermodel Scientist said that if it fertilised a little later, then it could be a little behind (and it's already ahead of the other 2). I've decided that it's definitely a girl as only a girl would be that determined.

"And now, we get to see our star attraction, on the tightrope, juggling not 3, not 5, but 8 at one time! An amazing feat ladies and gentlemen, just watch the concentation on her face as she wills them to stay in the air!" My hands are sweating as I inch slowly forward, not daring to hope I will actually make it to the end. Tomorrow is taunting me on the platform again. "You can't catch me" he calls. Maybe not, but I'll be where you are now, and that's good enough for me.

My pain seems to be getting worse with each passing day, not better. On Thursday I felt quite fine, but by Friday afternoon I was feeling quite tender and bloated and today it's worse. I'm back to the heat pack and panadol and hanging the washing will just have to wait. I'm supposed to be going to a BBQ tonight with a group of AdventureBoys rowdy mates. It's only around the corner, but I just don't want to go. I feel like I would be letting him down, but the thought of their loud, ignorant, sarcastic, think they're funny behaviour sends me right now into a state of dread.

It's bad enough that I have a Christening to go to tomorrow. Don't get me wrong, the couple are two of our best friends, Mr and Mrs Designer Lifestyle. The thing of it is that she and I started trying together (and I had even been secretly trying before that). She had one miscarriage and now her gorgeous little girl is 3 months old. I love them all, but it's so hard. And I don't want to cry at a Christening (I don't actually want to cry anywhere!).

I think that's one of the hardest things. The friends who have all had success while I'm still walking the tightrope. Some didn't even have to go near the Big Top. The friend who started in the SAME MONTH as me whose daughter will be one this week. She's starting to think about number 2. The friend who had cancer and was told she might not be fertile again. She had 2 miscarriages, not taking away her pain, but now she's successfully pregnant. My secrecy leads her to say, on a regular basis, "when are you going to get up the duff? Hurry up, it would be so great if we could do it together". Always saying, "after everything I have been through", as if her pain is the only one that counts, cause it was out there. Visible. Communicated.

I suppose that's my fault. If she knew I know she would be a lot more sensitive, but I can't. I can't bear the sympathy of others at the best of times. I couldn't deal with the questions. The hopeful expressions. My mother, Rain on my Parade. AdventureBoy's mother, the Glamour Queen. My sisters, with their healthy sons.

So far we have told no-one. We mentioned that it might be the way we are heading to Mr and Mrs Designer Lifestyle, but have told told them about the tightrope yet. Our fabulous next door neighbours know about that much as well, although I'm thinking of going in there today for a cup of tea and a spill the beans. They're great. He is an anesthetist (sp?) and she is a teacher who has just completed her PhD and has been giving me a lot of help with mine. They have a funny little girl who insists she is a fairy and runs around the house constantly singing 'Everybody' or High-5 Xmas Carols (no matter the season) and another one due in May. But that's it. Strangely, I think somehow I totally trust these people. Their discretion and their not overbearing support.

My own sister (the one around the corner) is a gusher. Everything is "fabulous" or it's tears. She cries at TV comercials without hormonal influence and insists on touching you in every conversation. Her support would be oppressive and I would have to prop her up if it didn't work! I can't deal with her emotions as well as mine. I love her excessively, but this has to stay a secret. My other sister has her own burdens to carry. She has a disease which has not been labelled as MS, but has very similar symptoms. And her husband's a gambler, attending Gamblers Anonymous so that she doesn't leave him again.

I think every family has their dramas.

AdventureBoy's are no better, but there's time enough for them later. I need to go and squirt something in a place I'd rather not squirt to keep it all chugging along.

Saint Anne

2006-03-24T20:55:00.000+11:00

I had a phone call from Saint Anne from the clinic. Her gentle voice and genuine inquiry brought tears. I didn't let them be known - I have always been much too in control for that kind of thing. I remember as a child, NEVER allowing anyone to see me weak and with tears. Nothing could be seen to upset me (in my eyes at least). I really don't think I was tough, but I never wanted to be the butt of anyones joke.

And now, it's all happening and my transfer is on Monday at 9.30am. Well that's made that decision for me ... day off for sure!!

And I forgot about the fact that I get a phone call tomorrow morning to let me know how the 7 are going. I worry about them on their own. Saint Anne told me that they don't even look at them until then! The dying are gone and shrivelled before they are even looked at. I love them, no matter how long they last. Those little pieces of AdventureBoy and me. Together, perhaps meeting for the very first time.

I sometimes think about that. Have they met before and never found the best place to set up a home? Or have they waited in different meeting spots and never known where to look? I think about AdventureBoy's adventurous boys ... have they been following the right directions or getting lost on the way?

I think it's too hard to keep thinking.

But I'll do it nonetheless.

More about the Carnival tomorrow.

The Leech Factory

2006-03-24T10:30:00.000+11:00

Well, that was quick and relatively painless. As painless as sticking a needle into your vein and making a withdrawal can actually be. I wonder if making a withdrawal at the handybank was that painful, would we all be better savers?

It's amazing how some of the leeches and the Leech Factory (I think this is more what it actually feels like - you are really only there to be processed) are able to glide it in and gently take your sample whilst others seem to enjoy the pin-cushion effect, or at least the pain part of it anyway.

My leech this morning had a nose stud - a star - a sign perhaps? She was calm and I was 'darling'. I am actually running out veins after so many jabbings and stabbings and she found one which hadn't been touched before. Avoiding the bruises, the canula spot, the other tiny pinprick scabs that haven't fallen off yet. Sister NoseStud made it worthwhile to take the day off today.

It was interesting to see the different people at the Leech Factory at that time of the day. Usually I go in at 7.30am, before work, so that I can be there on time and pretend that nothing unusual has been happening this morning. 'No, just slept in', if the crowd is thicker than usual. A crowd of uniforms and suits and tapping fingers and flicking pages and watch twitching. Everyone in a hurry to begin their day - to get to where they're going.

But this morning was different. That was where I was going and the only hurry was to be back to have my cup of tea (which I'm enjoying right now, by the way). The crowd was tiny, and I barely had time to give them a glance as I deposited by donated magazines. Sister NoseStud came straight out of one of the withdrawal rooms, took my name, looked at the list ('IVF?', she inquired discreetly) and I was in. During peak hour, there is always a wait. A shame I can't take every test day off.

Next one ... Monday. Will I stay at home? That's transfer day as well ... but I'm jumping the gun ... I was going to talk about the carnival ...

The Story of my Carnival Ride ...

November 2004: When I say it like this, it sounds like it's been such a long time. I suppose it has, but time has a way of laughing in your face and running away from you and before you know it you're 37 years old and wishing on a star. Time and tomorrow - they're certainly in it together.

It was November, and I had finally scored a ticket to the Carnival I had been waiting for. I didn't realise, at the time however, that my ticket had been for the Big Top. I really only thought I would only be going to see a few stalls, watch a few clowns, see a bit of juggling, that kind of thing. I even thought I might get to taste the fairy floss and put a ball in the moving clown's open mouth. It would be a great day and I would walk away with a soft and cuddly bear under my arm, won for me by the fabulous AdventureBoy.

Wrong, but thanks for playing. We have a much bigger adventure lined up for you! You are going to end up at the Big Top and, here's the surpise, you are going to be the star attraction. You, my dear, will be on the tightrope! Of course, AdventureBoy will be there to catch you, as well as a web of hands and probes and syringes and leeches. But you ... you ... it's all up to you to learn this new skill and stay upright.

And at the end, if you stay on, there will be your star, waiting for you.

But,
of course,
they didn't tell me all of this straight away.

Dr Chanel Spectacles showed me around a few of the stalls first. Gave me a bit of fairy floss (in the hope that the sweetness would distract me) and helped me start to juggle.

Great, I thought. Won't be long now. I'll be home before I know it with that cuddly bear under my arm.

Like a Virgin

2006-03-24T08:24:00.000+11:00

A bit nervous - like a virgin - my first time - is this what I want? I can never take it back ... but I don't think I want to. I want to do this. I need to.

For me.

And them.

And him.

Poor him. He has been so patient and calm and present. I couldn't have started it all without him - literally and emotionally. But I think he'll be grateful for the break from the onslaught of my twisting hormones. And my pain. And trying to cover his for me. It's hard for an AdventureBoy to be so calm. I know and love his sacrifice.

Right now, we have seven, but what if they all don't make it? In fact, I know they won't and that is scaring me just a little. What if none of them do? Tomorrow I will know and it seems like an eternity away.

I woke up this morning thinking of them. Ours, but so far away. In a warm, dark dish. Home for the moment. I can't help them from here - I can't look after them - I can send them encouraging thoughts ... keep dividing ... keep changing ... stay warm ... don't give up ... but that's about it for now. I'm looking at the rain out of the window. Such simple things to keep my veggie garden fertile. Some manure, deep soil, some mulch, and water. Maybe I just need to water myself a little more?

It's hard to know. But we'll keep trying. Wishing. Hoping. Waiting.

Time to go to the Leech Centre again. It's supposed to be before 9am but I think I'll be late. I've taken a few days off work and I feel surprisingly calm about it. I think I'll take some new magazines with me. I can't stand to keep reading the same grubby words from the same grubby pages. I have no delusions, of course, that these won't also become grubby soon enough. But at least they'll be current. Brad and Jen are still together in most of them there ... and Diana is even alive in some.

Time to move ...