I've had better weeks. Things have been going from bad to fecking worse the last couple of days and I'm finding it really hard to keep my head above water lately.
Today/tomorrow our 30th cycle ttc will have ended and I am losing sight of us ever getting there. Our 30th cycle ends pretty much like all the rest; anticipation, hope, and eventually failure.
I'm so worn out, tired and emotional from all of this, I can't even express myself properly. All I know is, we are both so sad and we are running out of options. We have a couple of cycles of clomid left and then we have to start thinking about ivf ...
I can't stop crying these days as yet more and more friends and family announce their good news. Tis the season to be jolly? I can't think happy thoughts about Christmas. All I want - all we want - for Christmas, is the one thing we just can't have and there is no rhyme or reason for it.
And to top it all, I think our lack of a baby is making people feel awkward around us. In fact, I know that people dread telling me they are pregnant, and there's nothing I can do to make that better. I wish to goodness I could be really happy when people tell us their news - and I am happy for them of course - but I also feel so full of despair and desperation for our own situation at the same time, that their happiness is always tinged with my/our own sadness. I have hidden too many tears these last few weeks, and shed too many also.
Every time someone tells me they are pregnant, I mentally count the months til their due date and tell myself that maybe, just maybe, by the time their baby comes along I'll be pregnant. Then I'll be fine. But I have gone from one friends pregnancy, to anothers, and anothers and anothers... and no, I haven't lost count - I have plenty of baby announcement cards to remind me of their happy events - and we have never managed it. When my friend told me in September that she was due in February, I felt SO SO sure that we would be pregnant by then - we were just starting out on clomid and I was convinced it would work first time. But it didn't, or the second time, and we haven't managed to get pregnant this month either.
And I'm fast running out of opportunities before February so I have had to resolve myself that it won't happen by then. But now there are other babies due in April, May and June... surely we could be pregnant before then, couldn't we? Frankly, I'm not feeling so confident about that either right now.
Plus, I think people are acting like we're doing it wrong or something, by not being pregnant yet. It's almost like "well, you can't be doing it right, otherwise it'd happen by now" or "you've just got to have more sex". AHHH!!! So I would like to take this opportunity right now to say we are doing it right, thank you very much, and we are having lots and lots of sex, thank you also for your interest, now please feck off and mind your own business!!
I pulled out my gynie paperwork tonight and looked over our test results from the last few months and they are all "perfect". There is absolutely nothing wrong with the numbers, the results, the figures. Everything is so-called perfect; and yet we still cannot conceive.
I'm just finding it really hard to conceive of us ever conceiving... Praying for a miracle
GG
Monday 10 December 2007
Wednesday 28 November 2007
Frustration and Hope
I shouldn't have been so bloody happy; I should've seen this coming...
The twin torments, Frustration and Hope, paid me a visit at 5.30 this morning. Thankfully, they didn't wake L, at least initially.
Of course, Frustration arrived first; huffing and puffing, stomping around my room, snarling, red hair billowing, muscles shining, with something of the amazonian woman in her stance. She stomped and clenched and stormed and generally made much of a fuss as she woke me from my slumber.
"WHY does it have to be ME? Why indeed US? Why can't we have a baby??? Why will nothing work? Why! Why? WHY?!? IT'S NOT FAIR!!!" she thundered. I could only agree with her. It carried on for some time.... "How long do we have to wait? What have we done to be punished this way? Why can't we just be NORMAL?!?!?!"
Just when I was thinking I would never fall back asleep and the tears began, in wafted Hope. In fact, she glided in, clothes lithe and flowing, hair long and soft, face gentle. "Hush hush" she softly said. "Out with you.."
There was a bit of a tussle between her and Frustration but eventually Frustration stomped off, looking for somewhere else to vent at 6am. No doubt she'll be back.
Hope softened, touched, cuddled, soothed. "It WILL happen, you have to believe it. It WILL happen." Her mantra itself could put me to sleep. She was dream-like, blithe, effervescent. "This is our month; this is it. It WILL happen. You have to BELIEVE it."
She shushed and comforted and soothed me, gentle hands across my brow, gentle thoughts to slow my beating heart, comfort, comfort.
"It WILL happen".
And so I fell back asleep for a time. Frustration and Hope had come and gone, in equal measures.
Of course, now I worry their cousin Despair may put in an appearance some time soon. There's only so much a girl can cope with, and banshee-like wailing and flailing is not a pleasant thought.
I shouldn't have been so bloody happy; I should've seen this coming...
The twin torments, Frustration and Hope, paid me a visit at 5.30 this morning. Thankfully, they didn't wake L, at least initially.
Of course, Frustration arrived first; huffing and puffing, stomping around my room, snarling, red hair billowing, muscles shining, with something of the amazonian woman in her stance. She stomped and clenched and stormed and generally made much of a fuss as she woke me from my slumber.
"WHY does it have to be ME? Why indeed US? Why can't we have a baby??? Why will nothing work? Why! Why? WHY?!? IT'S NOT FAIR!!!" she thundered. I could only agree with her. It carried on for some time.... "How long do we have to wait? What have we done to be punished this way? Why can't we just be NORMAL?!?!?!"
Just when I was thinking I would never fall back asleep and the tears began, in wafted Hope. In fact, she glided in, clothes lithe and flowing, hair long and soft, face gentle. "Hush hush" she softly said. "Out with you.."
There was a bit of a tussle between her and Frustration but eventually Frustration stomped off, looking for somewhere else to vent at 6am. No doubt she'll be back.
Hope softened, touched, cuddled, soothed. "It WILL happen, you have to believe it. It WILL happen." Her mantra itself could put me to sleep. She was dream-like, blithe, effervescent. "This is our month; this is it. It WILL happen. You have to BELIEVE it."
She shushed and comforted and soothed me, gentle hands across my brow, gentle thoughts to slow my beating heart, comfort, comfort.
"It WILL happen".
And so I fell back asleep for a time. Frustration and Hope had come and gone, in equal measures.
Of course, now I worry their cousin Despair may put in an appearance some time soon. There's only so much a girl can cope with, and banshee-like wailing and flailing is not a pleasant thought.
I shouldn't have been so bloody happy; I should've seen this coming...
Monday 24 September 2007
The Teacher and the Student
Just a wee update from me; the weeks are flying by and I've found it difficult to keep up with posting. It was hard enough before but now I have taken on a Postgrad Certificate to keep me busy, I have even less time available than before. I am doing an officially recognised qualification for teaching in higher education so yet again I am the Student. There is a lot to read and plenty to learn but I'm looking forward to it.
I am still not pregnant, but we remain positive and we keep trying. What else can we do? I'm not about to just give up, am I?
I'm also off the booze again, just for a couple of weeks. I don't feel remarkably different to before, I'm still tired a lot (a side effect of my current medication, I suspect) but at least I haven't woken up with a dozy head in a while....
The weeks are getting busier and busier but there is light at the end of the tunnel. Teaching starts again at the beginning of October, so that's an extra 3-4 hours per week to fit in, but one of my research projects also finishes up around the end of October, so the teaching can fill that gap: financially as much as anything else!
Our main project is going well; we are in the midst of analysing the quantitative and qualitative data from the questionnaires and it is time-consuming and, sometimes, tedious, but we're slowly getting there and it's coming together well. I hope to present a paper on some of the findings in the new year, I'm just not sure what angle I'm going to take as yet. I need to give it some thought (when I get a chance to).
In three weeks time we're heading off to Kent for what will hopefully be a romantic, tranquil weekend away. Can't wait. We have booked a beautiful little cottage by the coast and are planning on beach walks, strolls round town, cosy dinners and snuggling up together afterwards. Bliss.
Chances are my next post will be after that; but I'll try to drop in more often
GGx
I am still not pregnant, but we remain positive and we keep trying. What else can we do? I'm not about to just give up, am I?
I'm also off the booze again, just for a couple of weeks. I don't feel remarkably different to before, I'm still tired a lot (a side effect of my current medication, I suspect) but at least I haven't woken up with a dozy head in a while....
The weeks are getting busier and busier but there is light at the end of the tunnel. Teaching starts again at the beginning of October, so that's an extra 3-4 hours per week to fit in, but one of my research projects also finishes up around the end of October, so the teaching can fill that gap: financially as much as anything else!
Our main project is going well; we are in the midst of analysing the quantitative and qualitative data from the questionnaires and it is time-consuming and, sometimes, tedious, but we're slowly getting there and it's coming together well. I hope to present a paper on some of the findings in the new year, I'm just not sure what angle I'm going to take as yet. I need to give it some thought (when I get a chance to).
In three weeks time we're heading off to Kent for what will hopefully be a romantic, tranquil weekend away. Can't wait. We have booked a beautiful little cottage by the coast and are planning on beach walks, strolls round town, cosy dinners and snuggling up together afterwards. Bliss.
Chances are my next post will be after that; but I'll try to drop in more often
GGx
Monday 3 September 2007
I've lost count...
I thought Friday was a tough one but Saturday went one - no, make that TWO - better.
Two more of our close friends were both on the phone within an hour of each other telling me they are pregnant. I was, and still am, delighted for them but just felt so so awful afterwards. It was more than I could bear. Our plans for the day went out the window as I really couldn't face going out and I ended up weeping at home for most of the afternoon.
I wish this would all just stop now.
I've done my penance and I'd really appreciate a break.
Please can we have a baby? Is it too much to ask?
Two more of our close friends were both on the phone within an hour of each other telling me they are pregnant. I was, and still am, delighted for them but just felt so so awful afterwards. It was more than I could bear. Our plans for the day went out the window as I really couldn't face going out and I ended up weeping at home for most of the afternoon.
I wish this would all just stop now.
I've done my penance and I'd really appreciate a break.
Please can we have a baby? Is it too much to ask?
Friday 31 August 2007
Three's a crowd
I am having a fairly crappy baby-day. One of those ones that starts out fine, things plod along as normal, and then WHAM! you get hit with one baby-news after another. I know I should stop feeling sorry for myself and just get on with it, but it sucks, so excuse me if I get it all out of my system and vent a little.
This morning we visited my lovely new gynie at Queen Charlotte's. I had a scan and the news was all good; two follicles - one teeny tiny one and one nice big 17mm one - and "perfect" lining in my uterus. My blood results are back and everything is normal and as it should be.
Whooopppeeeee.... time to start baby-making. Again.
That's the thing of it; all the news is good, as it is, I presume, every other month, and we're still here trying month after month for a baby. Will it ever happen? Is it more frustrating to know everything is normal and still you don't conceive, or to know something is wrong and you can't conceive? I'm not sure I'll ever be faced with the answer to this. But for me, to know that all is "as it should be" means I will get my hopes up, build up my aspirations and end up dreaming about being pregnant before this cycle is out... and most likely all for nothing.
The fall down is so much further and more painful when you've allowed yourself to climb to such dumb heights in the first place.
But I was on a high this morning; good scan, nice doc, the traffic was being kind all the way to work. Hey, it's even a Friday so here comes the weekend! I had two meetings set up in the office today. In the first meeting, with my mentor who is a lovely man, we were engrossed in a very interesting chat about research, funding and my possible future at the university; all good stuff. His phone rang and he apologised and answered it. His voice and his face said it all. His daughter, who had been married a few months ago, was on the line telling him she was pregnant. He was delighted. She was delighted. Wonderful news. He hung up and apologised, and said I could probably guess what it was about. I mumbled some congratulations and tried to make light of it;
ME: "Is this their first?"
HIM: "Yeah, but she's been very broody so we knew it wouldn't be long"...
ME: Long silence while I bite my tongue...
while inside my head a voice is screaming "BUT I'M BROODY TOO ... WHY NOT ME? WHEN WILL IT BE ME?!?!"
His phone rang again and it was his wife, hugely excited at the news.... I could almost picture my parents having the same conversation one day... maybe.
Then my phone rang and I excused myself and took the call outside; it was good news - my doc ringing to tell me my tests were all fine. Great. See you in a month, then. Back in infertility land again.
I went straight from that meeting over to another in a separate building, where baby number 2 was. This time it was a lovely little eight-week old girl - my colleague brought her in as she hadn't a babysitter to cover our meeting. She was lovely; I got a little cuddle; brought some presents and we basically oohed and ahhhed over the baby while discussing continuous professional development issues and our project's completion date.
My colleague joked to me: "You're not getting broody, are you?"
I didn't even have the strength to joke back, I just replied something along the lines of "We'd love a baby but it hasn't happened... been trying for a coupla years..." and let the conversation drop. When she asked what we were going to do about it and I mumbled something incomprehensible, she very sensitively left it at that and got back to discussing the merits of pram versus sling...
So eventually I slinked back to the security of my office and opened up my emails. Lots of work to do before I head home. Thinking: I'll just check my private ones before I get down to the nitty-gritty. And there it was; baby incident number 3. I had sent an old work colleague an email yesterday wishing her well for her new life, and asking how her wedding had been last month. She sent me a lovely long reply, along with pictures of their wedding and telling me how happy she was. And then she hit me - BAM! - "you might've noticed I've put on a bit of weight lately; I am 18 weeks pregnant"
I haven't yet got round to composing the right kind of reply.
Is nowhere safe? Not the office, not email, definitely not the street with all those prams and buggies about the place... Is there nowhere safe for an infertile like me to go and hide for a few hours? While I think about having sex tonight because the doc said so? Did all these people just have babies because they wanted to? Did it just happen naturally, normally, accidentally?
My dear mentor was so excited about being a grandad he started telling me about "this time 30 years ago" when he and his wife hadn't been too careful, and she thought she was pregnant - he'd had to take her sample to the chemist for the result, and how happy he was coming back to the office and telling everyone... Do people really still do that?
And if they do, could they just, please, not tell me about it.... Not until Monday at least, when we will have done our bit and I can move on to the hope and naivity of the two-week-wait until my period's due.
GG
This morning we visited my lovely new gynie at Queen Charlotte's. I had a scan and the news was all good; two follicles - one teeny tiny one and one nice big 17mm one - and "perfect" lining in my uterus. My blood results are back and everything is normal and as it should be.
Whooopppeeeee.... time to start baby-making. Again.
That's the thing of it; all the news is good, as it is, I presume, every other month, and we're still here trying month after month for a baby. Will it ever happen? Is it more frustrating to know everything is normal and still you don't conceive, or to know something is wrong and you can't conceive? I'm not sure I'll ever be faced with the answer to this. But for me, to know that all is "as it should be" means I will get my hopes up, build up my aspirations and end up dreaming about being pregnant before this cycle is out... and most likely all for nothing.
The fall down is so much further and more painful when you've allowed yourself to climb to such dumb heights in the first place.
But I was on a high this morning; good scan, nice doc, the traffic was being kind all the way to work. Hey, it's even a Friday so here comes the weekend! I had two meetings set up in the office today. In the first meeting, with my mentor who is a lovely man, we were engrossed in a very interesting chat about research, funding and my possible future at the university; all good stuff. His phone rang and he apologised and answered it. His voice and his face said it all. His daughter, who had been married a few months ago, was on the line telling him she was pregnant. He was delighted. She was delighted. Wonderful news. He hung up and apologised, and said I could probably guess what it was about. I mumbled some congratulations and tried to make light of it;
ME: "Is this their first?"
HIM: "Yeah, but she's been very broody so we knew it wouldn't be long"...
ME: Long silence while I bite my tongue...
while inside my head a voice is screaming "BUT I'M BROODY TOO ... WHY NOT ME? WHEN WILL IT BE ME?!?!"
His phone rang again and it was his wife, hugely excited at the news.... I could almost picture my parents having the same conversation one day... maybe.
Then my phone rang and I excused myself and took the call outside; it was good news - my doc ringing to tell me my tests were all fine. Great. See you in a month, then. Back in infertility land again.
I went straight from that meeting over to another in a separate building, where baby number 2 was. This time it was a lovely little eight-week old girl - my colleague brought her in as she hadn't a babysitter to cover our meeting. She was lovely; I got a little cuddle; brought some presents and we basically oohed and ahhhed over the baby while discussing continuous professional development issues and our project's completion date.
My colleague joked to me: "You're not getting broody, are you?"
I didn't even have the strength to joke back, I just replied something along the lines of "We'd love a baby but it hasn't happened... been trying for a coupla years..." and let the conversation drop. When she asked what we were going to do about it and I mumbled something incomprehensible, she very sensitively left it at that and got back to discussing the merits of pram versus sling...
So eventually I slinked back to the security of my office and opened up my emails. Lots of work to do before I head home. Thinking: I'll just check my private ones before I get down to the nitty-gritty. And there it was; baby incident number 3. I had sent an old work colleague an email yesterday wishing her well for her new life, and asking how her wedding had been last month. She sent me a lovely long reply, along with pictures of their wedding and telling me how happy she was. And then she hit me - BAM! - "you might've noticed I've put on a bit of weight lately; I am 18 weeks pregnant"
I haven't yet got round to composing the right kind of reply.
Is nowhere safe? Not the office, not email, definitely not the street with all those prams and buggies about the place... Is there nowhere safe for an infertile like me to go and hide for a few hours? While I think about having sex tonight because the doc said so? Did all these people just have babies because they wanted to? Did it just happen naturally, normally, accidentally?
My dear mentor was so excited about being a grandad he started telling me about "this time 30 years ago" when he and his wife hadn't been too careful, and she thought she was pregnant - he'd had to take her sample to the chemist for the result, and how happy he was coming back to the office and telling everyone... Do people really still do that?
And if they do, could they just, please, not tell me about it.... Not until Monday at least, when we will have done our bit and I can move on to the hope and naivity of the two-week-wait until my period's due.
GG
Thursday 23 August 2007
For Baby Sharp
We miss you loads, though we never met you...
These are my footprints,
So perfect and so small.
These tiny footprints,
Never touched the ground at all.
Not one tiny footprint,
For now I have my wings.
These tiny footprints were meant,
For other things.
You will hear my tiny footprints,
In the patter of the rain.
Gentle drops like angel's tears,
Of joy and not from pain.
These tiny footprints,
Are found on mammy's heart.
'Cause even though I'm gone now,
We'll never truly part.
These are my footprints,
So perfect and so small.
These tiny footprints,
Never touched the ground at all.
Not one tiny footprint,
For now I have my wings.
These tiny footprints were meant,
For other things.
You will hear my tiny footprints,
In the patter of the rain.
Gentle drops like angel's tears,
Of joy and not from pain.
These tiny footprints,
Are found on mammy's heart.
'Cause even though I'm gone now,
We'll never truly part.
Tuesday 7 August 2007
Fell of the wagon.. or was it the horse?
Durrr.... as Homer Simpson would say - it's two weeks later and much has happened. I keep promising myself I will try to write every day but as a born procrastinator, what did I really expect?
Anyhoo, lots have happened. Both good and bad. After a wonderful week of detox we got some shocking and sad news on the Friday night and L and I were so distraught we comforted each other, and then found comfort in a few bevvies too. Quite a few vodkas were partaken of... oh well, such is life. "The detox at least helped me prepare for the onslaught", I thought. And it was much needed. The wagon was fallen on, packed up and put away and we were en route to Hicksville ...
The following day we dragged our butts out of bed and ran a few errands. Even L felt rubbish, and he rarely gets hangovers (damn that man!). That night we went to a friends party - along with our rotten hangovers - and I had one or two drinks but that was it. I couldn't face any more. Felt too rough. "Damn detox", I thought, "Where has my stamina gone!?"
Thank God for Sunday. A day of rest was much needed, and restored some normality to our home!
On Weds last, I helped organise a friends hen night (did two nights of detox in preparation!) and we had a ball. What a laugh. It was great fun and the other hens were lovely; there were eight of us, just the right size really, and it was really really good fun. We had dinner out, played a few silly games (no 20-something willies and condoms stuff, mind you) and consumed a few drinkies. We eventually left the hen sleeping on her sofa around 1am on Thursday morning, wrapped in tinsel and a painfully tight tiara, surrounded by broken champagne glasses; I haven't a clue who broke them, but I know I was still drinking mine when there was glass on the floor [the trick is to never put your glass down]. I got a text from her 7 hours later saying thanks for a brilliant night and that she'd woken up on the bathroom floor ... hmmm!
Still and all, she doesn't seem to remember who broke the glasses either, but she says she had a great time. Can't wait for the wedding now - next week!
Last week I also managed to do three pregnancy tests. Quite a record for me. My period came and went in about a 24 hour "period" but consisted of nothing but spotting. So I thought it was still due, if you know what I mean. So I waited some more. But nope, no sign of it. Went to my GP and discussed it with her and she suggested I might be preggers. Hmmm.... I got excited for about 1/8 of a second ... and then resigned myself to believing the pregnancy tests and thus no, I can't be preggers (and then went on the hen night bender, with renewed vigour).
Despite that, I did promise her I would test again in a week, but with zero symptoms I think I am about to waste yet another pg test tomorrow morning. In fact, I think I'm ovulating again - jeez, doesn't time fly? - so I am kind of geared up for this months efforts instead. I've got a back up plan though and am back to see my ole consultant next week to have more blood work done. Yipeeedee... The joys of infertility.
What else... oooooh yes. L had a wonderful surprise for me arranged for last week. My day of learning to ride a horse. Oh yaay!!
GG (isn't that a horse term anyway? As in: "put some GGs on that nag there Michael"??) had never been on a horse before in her life. [I mean, me. I'd never been on a horse before in my life. I must stop talking about myself in the third person!]
Back to the horses :
It was amazing! Oh lordy though, my ASS was killing me afterwards. My poor bottom!! And my blinking shoulders, legs, arms, bum, bum, bum... but it was brilliant. I loved it. The horses were HUGE. And I didn't exactly learn to ride in a day, I more or less learned how to throw yourself up on a horse with all the grace of a dung beetle, slide off a horse in the manner of a person falling from a window... and sit there looking cool while we "walked on"...
Ah it was great; all I needed was a cowboy hat and a blade of straw. Well, to be fair there was plenty of straw as we walked round Wimbledon Common but I couldn't quite reach down that far from the height I was at to pull any up.
People out picnicking actually took photos of us! (Eejits!) Still, it was great. I learnt a few bits and pieces; positioning, names ("reigns", "canter", "horse", etc!) and we did a bit of "trotting". Hilarious; bouncing around on the horse, with your arse slamming up and down... well, sort-of hilarious. What was the other term I was thinking of? Oh yes - "painful as hell". I need to keep practising that one. But apparently my posture is excellent... fnar!!!!
Anyway, it was a brilliant day and the sun was shining and I got a few freckles. We got home around 4.30 and I took to my bath.
And then I took to my bed for a doze, too.
And then I spent the next three days tottering around as gently as possible, trying not to move a single muscle.
Seriously.
My ass is still killing me...
So thence to the weekend, and we had dinner with friends, which was lovely, and I had another few glasses of wine (as you can tell, I'm not taking this "might be preggers" lark very seriously, otherwise I would of course be off the booze) but I am back on the detox again now for another week and I must say, my patches don't look half as bad as the first week. I MUST be improving. Less toxins....yaay! Roll on the weekend and I'm looking forward to replacing those toxins with fresh ones as we party on Saturday night....
And so to another month. Hurray for August; the sun is finally shining! And bye-bye July; I may have fallen off the wagon but at least I managed to hang on to the horse!
GGx
Anyhoo, lots have happened. Both good and bad. After a wonderful week of detox we got some shocking and sad news on the Friday night and L and I were so distraught we comforted each other, and then found comfort in a few bevvies too. Quite a few vodkas were partaken of... oh well, such is life. "The detox at least helped me prepare for the onslaught", I thought. And it was much needed. The wagon was fallen on, packed up and put away and we were en route to Hicksville ...
The following day we dragged our butts out of bed and ran a few errands. Even L felt rubbish, and he rarely gets hangovers (damn that man!). That night we went to a friends party - along with our rotten hangovers - and I had one or two drinks but that was it. I couldn't face any more. Felt too rough. "Damn detox", I thought, "Where has my stamina gone!?"
Thank God for Sunday. A day of rest was much needed, and restored some normality to our home!
On Weds last, I helped organise a friends hen night (did two nights of detox in preparation!) and we had a ball. What a laugh. It was great fun and the other hens were lovely; there were eight of us, just the right size really, and it was really really good fun. We had dinner out, played a few silly games (no 20-something willies and condoms stuff, mind you) and consumed a few drinkies. We eventually left the hen sleeping on her sofa around 1am on Thursday morning, wrapped in tinsel and a painfully tight tiara, surrounded by broken champagne glasses; I haven't a clue who broke them, but I know I was still drinking mine when there was glass on the floor [the trick is to never put your glass down]. I got a text from her 7 hours later saying thanks for a brilliant night and that she'd woken up on the bathroom floor ... hmmm!
Still and all, she doesn't seem to remember who broke the glasses either, but she says she had a great time. Can't wait for the wedding now - next week!
Last week I also managed to do three pregnancy tests. Quite a record for me. My period came and went in about a 24 hour "period" but consisted of nothing but spotting. So I thought it was still due, if you know what I mean. So I waited some more. But nope, no sign of it. Went to my GP and discussed it with her and she suggested I might be preggers. Hmmm.... I got excited for about 1/8 of a second ... and then resigned myself to believing the pregnancy tests and thus no, I can't be preggers (and then went on the hen night bender, with renewed vigour).
Despite that, I did promise her I would test again in a week, but with zero symptoms I think I am about to waste yet another pg test tomorrow morning. In fact, I think I'm ovulating again - jeez, doesn't time fly? - so I am kind of geared up for this months efforts instead. I've got a back up plan though and am back to see my ole consultant next week to have more blood work done. Yipeeedee... The joys of infertility.
What else... oooooh yes. L had a wonderful surprise for me arranged for last week. My day of learning to ride a horse. Oh yaay!!
GG (isn't that a horse term anyway? As in: "put some GGs on that nag there Michael"??) had never been on a horse before in her life. [I mean, me. I'd never been on a horse before in my life. I must stop talking about myself in the third person!]
Back to the horses :
It was amazing! Oh lordy though, my ASS was killing me afterwards. My poor bottom!! And my blinking shoulders, legs, arms, bum, bum, bum... but it was brilliant. I loved it. The horses were HUGE. And I didn't exactly learn to ride in a day, I more or less learned how to throw yourself up on a horse with all the grace of a dung beetle, slide off a horse in the manner of a person falling from a window... and sit there looking cool while we "walked on"...
Ah it was great; all I needed was a cowboy hat and a blade of straw. Well, to be fair there was plenty of straw as we walked round Wimbledon Common but I couldn't quite reach down that far from the height I was at to pull any up.
People out picnicking actually took photos of us! (Eejits!) Still, it was great. I learnt a few bits and pieces; positioning, names ("reigns", "canter", "horse", etc!) and we did a bit of "trotting". Hilarious; bouncing around on the horse, with your arse slamming up and down... well, sort-of hilarious. What was the other term I was thinking of? Oh yes - "painful as hell". I need to keep practising that one. But apparently my posture is excellent... fnar!!!!
Anyway, it was a brilliant day and the sun was shining and I got a few freckles. We got home around 4.30 and I took to my bath.
And then I took to my bed for a doze, too.
And then I spent the next three days tottering around as gently as possible, trying not to move a single muscle.
Seriously.
My ass is still killing me...
So thence to the weekend, and we had dinner with friends, which was lovely, and I had another few glasses of wine (as you can tell, I'm not taking this "might be preggers" lark very seriously, otherwise I would of course be off the booze) but I am back on the detox again now for another week and I must say, my patches don't look half as bad as the first week. I MUST be improving. Less toxins....yaay! Roll on the weekend and I'm looking forward to replacing those toxins with fresh ones as we party on Saturday night....
And so to another month. Hurray for August; the sun is finally shining! And bye-bye July; I may have fallen off the wagon but at least I managed to hang on to the horse!
GGx
Thursday 26 July 2007
Day 5 of my alcohol free life
Well, day 5 of my alcohol-free week anyway...
I had a pampering weekend last week, when we finally got away from the thunderstorms in London. I was buffed, scrubbed, massaged, moulded, pummelled, rubbed and steamed into a new me. I felt great. Relaxed, serene, worries away.
After 48 hours of this, my skin began to glow, my eyes were brighter and my mind clearer and more relaxed. It had been a hellish few days leading up to our weekend away, culminating in my receiving a £60 fine for driving in a buslane I thought was peak hours only, but was actually 24 hours... Grrr. Yes, my fault entirely, but my GOD £60 for 10 seconds of driving. That's got to be the most expensive thing I've ever done, per second...
But anyway, what with work pulling me this way and that, the council fining me, the weather delaying our retreat away, too many late nights and too much to do in the meantime, off I popped for a couple of days of R&R. Now, I have to be honest, we did - of course! - bring some tipple with us and enjoyed a glass or three of wine after our healthy evening meals, tucked up in the comfort of our beds, while watching fun dvds... And yes, there were some crisps there too...
Oh ok, I confess all - and a yummy 'flat' Aero (love them; the choccy, not the car)....
But by Sunday morning I was feeling quite "serene". Not like myself at all, and quite enjoying it! My last treatment recommended I have 24 hours alcohol, caffeine and processed-sugar free so I duly obliged. And the wonderful Connie also recommended some detox 'patches' to help the process along.
I rarely ever fall for this kind of marketing ploy, but for just this once I did give it a go. And my goodness, five days later and L thinks someone has stolen his real wife and replaced her with someone who drinks no alcohol, goes to bed early, and gets up before the alarm... the shock in itself nearly killed him! The patches, for those who are novices to it all, go on the soles of your feet at night, one on each. Eight hours later, you pull them off; they look and smell disgusting, it has to be said. For the first two days, my kidneys ached (bad, bad GG, too much booze recently!), I had headaches, and I felt lousy and tired.
Day 3 and BING! I awoke at 7am (v. v. rare in this house, unless I'm catching a plane or something). To L's amazement, I had a normal, friendly conversation with him in bed (instead of grumbling and turning over). I even offered to shower first so he could lie in. And off I popped to work with a spring in my step and a sparkle in my eyes!
Day 4 we both had a lie in and made the most of being awake and sparkly in the morning! Yaay!
Day 5 and I'm still going strong. The aches and pains are all but gone. I have the odd headache, which I think is purely through lack of sugar and caffeine (I don't drink tea or coffee, but I do miss my diet cokes and the odd bit of chocolate!), and I have eaten basic, wholesome foods all week. Snacking has been fruit and fizzy water has replaced the vino. Yes, it's boring as hell but my skin is great, my tummy is shrinking and I've regained that spring in my step.
I am realising now how much I'd let myself slide; how I'd gotten myself into a habit of late nights and headachey, grumpy mornings, how work was stressing me because I want my performance to be as perfect as possible, and how much I was juggling too many things at once. That isn't going to change overnight, and certainly not over a mere five days but if I can repeat the detox process every so often, give myself time to heal, time to feel better and time to look after me and L for a change, then I will reap the benefits. This feels like the me of old; it reminds me of the first summer I spent with L, weekends at his house in the country, bouncing out of bed in the morning with a spring in our step, embracing life together. And six years later, facing the continuous, saddening process that is infertility, we lost that somewhat. We lost the joy we had. We found solace in work, and music and wine bottles. We need to concentrate on finding solace within ourselves. Yes, we were happy - we ARE happy - as a couple. But as an individual, I wasn't as happy as I could be, or should.
And so this little time out, this recharging of batteries... and liver, and kidneys... not to mention brain, lungs, colons etc, etc, has left me feeling better in myself. I have managed not to count the days to my next impending period (I could do if I concentrate hard enough, but I choose not to) and I will give myself another day or two of detox before enjoying the weekend. And having a glass of wine. Or maybe even two.
And definitely a Diet Coke!
I had a pampering weekend last week, when we finally got away from the thunderstorms in London. I was buffed, scrubbed, massaged, moulded, pummelled, rubbed and steamed into a new me. I felt great. Relaxed, serene, worries away.
After 48 hours of this, my skin began to glow, my eyes were brighter and my mind clearer and more relaxed. It had been a hellish few days leading up to our weekend away, culminating in my receiving a £60 fine for driving in a buslane I thought was peak hours only, but was actually 24 hours... Grrr. Yes, my fault entirely, but my GOD £60 for 10 seconds of driving. That's got to be the most expensive thing I've ever done, per second...
But anyway, what with work pulling me this way and that, the council fining me, the weather delaying our retreat away, too many late nights and too much to do in the meantime, off I popped for a couple of days of R&R. Now, I have to be honest, we did - of course! - bring some tipple with us and enjoyed a glass or three of wine after our healthy evening meals, tucked up in the comfort of our beds, while watching fun dvds... And yes, there were some crisps there too...
Oh ok, I confess all - and a yummy 'flat' Aero (love them; the choccy, not the car)....
But by Sunday morning I was feeling quite "serene". Not like myself at all, and quite enjoying it! My last treatment recommended I have 24 hours alcohol, caffeine and processed-sugar free so I duly obliged. And the wonderful Connie also recommended some detox 'patches' to help the process along.
I rarely ever fall for this kind of marketing ploy, but for just this once I did give it a go. And my goodness, five days later and L thinks someone has stolen his real wife and replaced her with someone who drinks no alcohol, goes to bed early, and gets up before the alarm... the shock in itself nearly killed him! The patches, for those who are novices to it all, go on the soles of your feet at night, one on each. Eight hours later, you pull them off; they look and smell disgusting, it has to be said. For the first two days, my kidneys ached (bad, bad GG, too much booze recently!), I had headaches, and I felt lousy and tired.
Day 3 and BING! I awoke at 7am (v. v. rare in this house, unless I'm catching a plane or something). To L's amazement, I had a normal, friendly conversation with him in bed (instead of grumbling and turning over). I even offered to shower first so he could lie in. And off I popped to work with a spring in my step and a sparkle in my eyes!
Day 4 we both had a lie in and made the most of being awake and sparkly in the morning! Yaay!
Day 5 and I'm still going strong. The aches and pains are all but gone. I have the odd headache, which I think is purely through lack of sugar and caffeine (I don't drink tea or coffee, but I do miss my diet cokes and the odd bit of chocolate!), and I have eaten basic, wholesome foods all week. Snacking has been fruit and fizzy water has replaced the vino. Yes, it's boring as hell but my skin is great, my tummy is shrinking and I've regained that spring in my step.
I am realising now how much I'd let myself slide; how I'd gotten myself into a habit of late nights and headachey, grumpy mornings, how work was stressing me because I want my performance to be as perfect as possible, and how much I was juggling too many things at once. That isn't going to change overnight, and certainly not over a mere five days but if I can repeat the detox process every so often, give myself time to heal, time to feel better and time to look after me and L for a change, then I will reap the benefits. This feels like the me of old; it reminds me of the first summer I spent with L, weekends at his house in the country, bouncing out of bed in the morning with a spring in our step, embracing life together. And six years later, facing the continuous, saddening process that is infertility, we lost that somewhat. We lost the joy we had. We found solace in work, and music and wine bottles. We need to concentrate on finding solace within ourselves. Yes, we were happy - we ARE happy - as a couple. But as an individual, I wasn't as happy as I could be, or should.
And so this little time out, this recharging of batteries... and liver, and kidneys... not to mention brain, lungs, colons etc, etc, has left me feeling better in myself. I have managed not to count the days to my next impending period (I could do if I concentrate hard enough, but I choose not to) and I will give myself another day or two of detox before enjoying the weekend. And having a glass of wine. Or maybe even two.
And definitely a Diet Coke!
Friday 20 July 2007
Sad - 2
SAD - Seasonal Affective Disorder - is something more commonly experienced in the darker, winter months. But I can't help feel I might be suffering from it right now, in mid-July because the weather is just SOOOOO rubbish!
It's 12noon and I'm sitting in the living room with all the lights on; there's a torrential rainstorm outside, complete with thunder and lighting; and according to weather reports it's all set to continue for at least another 48 hours.
So where has the summer gone? Or is it coming late this year? Or not at all? Yes, I know we had a wonderful two or three weeks in April, but come on, this is definitely the wettest, most miserable summer in my memory. I can only find respite in counting the days until we fly to Australia this winter, at least then - hopefully! - we will have some sunshine to look forward to! [and yes, I'm fully aware that flying to Australia can contribute to global warming effects, but we do offset, and when big businesses start to acknowledge their part and take action to reduce their emissions, then maybe I'll reconsider my own]
It reminds me of Ireland - my childhood summers spent sitting at the window staring out at the rain. Sheets of rain, day after day. Then it'd stop, mam would run out with the washing and hang it on the line and before she'd finished putting the last piece up, it would start up again. Steaming, damp washing would pile up in the kitchen, amidst the cooking and the chatter.
Inevitably... annually... we would go to Wexford where we'd have the pleasure of sitting at a caravan window doing the same said thing - staring at the rain! At least it was so much noisier there, and the thunder and lightning felt so much closer and lower in the sky. I didn't mind the rain so much then; I wasn't really the sporting type as a child - in fact, not sporty at all! - so at least I wouldn't get hooshed out to play if it was raining, and I could enjoy my Enid Blyton's and my Agatha Christie's indoors, amidst the mayhem of seven people in a tiny tin can.
And then when I lived in Germany we would have the most wonderful storms, loud, practiced, powerful and impressive. I loved German weather; proper lush white snow in the winter, and freezing cold, followed by lovely long hot summer days in the summer, interspersed with the odd thunder storm. It felt like proper, "Hollywood" type weather, the seasons all in the right order, doing the right thing...
But back to the current and it continues, this steady downpour. It's relentless, but not quite so impressive as the older storms I knew. I really can't believe it's mid-July and it's been weeks since we've had a day without rain.... I need some sunshine, it's making me sad.
It's 12noon and I'm sitting in the living room with all the lights on; there's a torrential rainstorm outside, complete with thunder and lighting; and according to weather reports it's all set to continue for at least another 48 hours.
So where has the summer gone? Or is it coming late this year? Or not at all? Yes, I know we had a wonderful two or three weeks in April, but come on, this is definitely the wettest, most miserable summer in my memory. I can only find respite in counting the days until we fly to Australia this winter, at least then - hopefully! - we will have some sunshine to look forward to! [and yes, I'm fully aware that flying to Australia can contribute to global warming effects, but we do offset, and when big businesses start to acknowledge their part and take action to reduce their emissions, then maybe I'll reconsider my own]
It reminds me of Ireland - my childhood summers spent sitting at the window staring out at the rain. Sheets of rain, day after day. Then it'd stop, mam would run out with the washing and hang it on the line and before she'd finished putting the last piece up, it would start up again. Steaming, damp washing would pile up in the kitchen, amidst the cooking and the chatter.
Inevitably... annually... we would go to Wexford where we'd have the pleasure of sitting at a caravan window doing the same said thing - staring at the rain! At least it was so much noisier there, and the thunder and lightning felt so much closer and lower in the sky. I didn't mind the rain so much then; I wasn't really the sporting type as a child - in fact, not sporty at all! - so at least I wouldn't get hooshed out to play if it was raining, and I could enjoy my Enid Blyton's and my Agatha Christie's indoors, amidst the mayhem of seven people in a tiny tin can.
And then when I lived in Germany we would have the most wonderful storms, loud, practiced, powerful and impressive. I loved German weather; proper lush white snow in the winter, and freezing cold, followed by lovely long hot summer days in the summer, interspersed with the odd thunder storm. It felt like proper, "Hollywood" type weather, the seasons all in the right order, doing the right thing...
But back to the current and it continues, this steady downpour. It's relentless, but not quite so impressive as the older storms I knew. I really can't believe it's mid-July and it's been weeks since we've had a day without rain.... I need some sunshine, it's making me sad.
Wednesday 4 July 2007
Sad
I know it's silly, and it's daft, but I just feel so, so sad today.
I feel we will never have a baby.
Another failed cycle, another missed opportunity, another month older.
Another pathetic, non-existant period, and nobody takes us seriously.
Feeling lousy, feeling rubbish, feeling desperately sad....
I feel we will never have a baby.
Another failed cycle, another missed opportunity, another month older.
Another pathetic, non-existant period, and nobody takes us seriously.
Feeling lousy, feeling rubbish, feeling desperately sad....
Monday 25 June 2007
Crime time
I realise I haven't written much about my new job. Simply put, it is going well and I am learning the ropes. I am enjoying getting to know people, learning the systems, keeping myself busy. We are still in the early stages of our research and we've yet to send out our questionnaires (fingers crossed, this week), but I am so looking forward to receiving them back and getting to grips with our participant's feedback and experiences.
I hope we will really be able to contribute to academic writing and that we produce some worthwhile results. I'll be updating soon - well, as soon as though damn questionnaires come through!
GG
I hope we will really be able to contribute to academic writing and that we produce some worthwhile results. I'll be updating soon - well, as soon as though damn questionnaires come through!
GG
for lost women everywhere
Today I read on various other blogs how two wonderful, intelligent, charming women have both lost their chance to have a baby. One with a failed ivf, another heartbreakingly having had 5 consecutive early miscarriages (you know who you are).
I am so upset for them, so heartbroken for any woman who loses their baby. Nobody should have to go through such immense angst, pain and disappointment. And yet I also feel that I will never KNOW what they are feeling, because I have never been given the opportunity to know what it's like to have something real, living, growing inside of me. How can I really sympathise with their loss when I have no concept of the joy they had originally felt?
I have always felt a little sorry for myself that I have never been pregnant. Yes, I have wallowed a little in that sense of "it will never happen?", "why me"? etc etc. Who knows if it will or it won't. I'm not doing anything differently now than I did before; I guess I have as much chance each month as I had the previous one. This brings me no comfort, no encouragement.
And I have to confess, I have always thought I'd rather BE pregnant and lose our baby, than never be pregnant ever. It seems awful written down like that, but I honestly thought "at least I would KNOW what it's like to have that bfp, even if it's just for a few days, hours, weeks..." To be able to finally achieve that which we've been attempting for so long now. To know how other women feel, just for an instance, would be better than never knowing, never feeling I've fulfilled my destiny of carrying a child.
But is that really the case? Am I really sure I would prefer to have "loved and lost"? Perhaps I will never know what it is like to be pregnant. To hit that euphoric high I see in other people's faces. Perhaps I will rue my words if some day in the future we get our much-longed for bfp and all our joy and happiness gets snatched away from us again. Maybe then I will be in a position to truly sympathise with all those who have suffered.
Perhaps I am better off never being pregnant, and never going through the awful, terrible heartache that women everywhere go through, some - tragically, unforgivingly - many, many times over. But I sure as hell don't feel it. I feel empty. I feel a failure. And those wonderful women must feel upteen times worse.
Now I feel selfish for wanting what women who lose babies have. That knowledge, brief as it is, of what it is like to really create something, something that is purely yours, you and your partners. How could I even feel this way? Why would I want this? What is happening to me?
Yet infertility eats me up, slowly gnawing away at my insides, and gradually wearing me down, so I'm always wanting something I can't have. I hate that I can't be happy for people anymore, just genuinely happy that they are pregnant, because in the back of my mind I am thinking "why you, why not me?" I hate that I have to "put on" a face when I see pregnant family and friends. I am ashamed of how I feel.
I am lost, lost amongst dreams that may never be realised, and I am surrounded by so many others. I am bitter and I am sad. No one deserves to be in this place.
GG
I am so upset for them, so heartbroken for any woman who loses their baby. Nobody should have to go through such immense angst, pain and disappointment. And yet I also feel that I will never KNOW what they are feeling, because I have never been given the opportunity to know what it's like to have something real, living, growing inside of me. How can I really sympathise with their loss when I have no concept of the joy they had originally felt?
I have always felt a little sorry for myself that I have never been pregnant. Yes, I have wallowed a little in that sense of "it will never happen?", "why me"? etc etc. Who knows if it will or it won't. I'm not doing anything differently now than I did before; I guess I have as much chance each month as I had the previous one. This brings me no comfort, no encouragement.
And I have to confess, I have always thought I'd rather BE pregnant and lose our baby, than never be pregnant ever. It seems awful written down like that, but I honestly thought "at least I would KNOW what it's like to have that bfp, even if it's just for a few days, hours, weeks..." To be able to finally achieve that which we've been attempting for so long now. To know how other women feel, just for an instance, would be better than never knowing, never feeling I've fulfilled my destiny of carrying a child.
But is that really the case? Am I really sure I would prefer to have "loved and lost"? Perhaps I will never know what it is like to be pregnant. To hit that euphoric high I see in other people's faces. Perhaps I will rue my words if some day in the future we get our much-longed for bfp and all our joy and happiness gets snatched away from us again. Maybe then I will be in a position to truly sympathise with all those who have suffered.
Perhaps I am better off never being pregnant, and never going through the awful, terrible heartache that women everywhere go through, some - tragically, unforgivingly - many, many times over. But I sure as hell don't feel it. I feel empty. I feel a failure. And those wonderful women must feel upteen times worse.
Now I feel selfish for wanting what women who lose babies have. That knowledge, brief as it is, of what it is like to really create something, something that is purely yours, you and your partners. How could I even feel this way? Why would I want this? What is happening to me?
Yet infertility eats me up, slowly gnawing away at my insides, and gradually wearing me down, so I'm always wanting something I can't have. I hate that I can't be happy for people anymore, just genuinely happy that they are pregnant, because in the back of my mind I am thinking "why you, why not me?" I hate that I have to "put on" a face when I see pregnant family and friends. I am ashamed of how I feel.
I am lost, lost amongst dreams that may never be realised, and I am surrounded by so many others. I am bitter and I am sad. No one deserves to be in this place.
GG
Monday 18 June 2007
The cost of intervening - or not
Last night, the hubster and I went out for a bite to eat in the evening, partly because I was feeling too lazy to cook, and partly because hubster had worked hard in the garden all afternoon and deserved a treat. We popped down the road for some pasta and garlic bread, and shared a bottle of yummy Cab Sauv, and were walking home around quarter to ten ...
L heard the noise first, and we both saw what looked, to all intents, like an attempted car jacking ahead in the road. A woman was screaming, over and over, sounding terrified, after a man had jumped into her car on the passenger side. There was a scuffle inside and she jumped out of the drivers side, still screaming "get out of my car" and "help!!!" and "get my son out, help me get my son out!!!".
Hubster wanted to intervene, and started to approach the car, but I held him back... I gave him my mobile and told him to call the police and I approached the car. On her side. I don't know why, but something in my brain was saying it's less risky for a woman to approach a woman, rather than a man approaching a man. The woman was hysterical, screaming about getting her son, but when I approached her I realised she knew the man in the passenger seat - he kept calling her name, trying to get her to listen to him and get back in the car.
So the situation was "domestic". To intervene or not to intervene? There are many who would say walk away and don't look back, but I was out on the road, by the rear door, behind the driver's seat, trying to coax her desperately upset child that it was going to be ok. I tried my best to calm them both, the woman was still screaming "help me get my son out of the car" and the man was still trying to placate her.
A six year old boy was positioned between them, traumatised and in tears.
We managed to get the little boy out of the car, and by this stage another couple had joined the fray, as well as a gentleman from a house across the road. We all tried to comfort the boy while the woman and man - eventually - got out of the road and the car and walked a short distance away to continue their screaming match "in private"...
Meanwhile, hubster had been hanging on the line for the police and eventually gave up and hung up. The police rang back a few minutes later, after we had got everyone out of the car - and so he told them things were under control - we thought - and we were advised to call back immediately if we needed assistance. Luckily, we didn't have to.
We chatted to the little boy, trying to distract him and calm him; the other woman who intervened was a teacher and asked him lots of questions (we discovered PE was his favourite subject at school); her brother told him about the Athens Olympics; the friendly neighbour went into his house and came out with an apple for him, and hubster took off his coat and put it on him to keep him warm. He was shaking. I turned the cuffs up so his hands could reach through the sleeves to eat his apple, it just made him look ever more vulnerable in this jacket that fell down around his ankles and his hands.
Poor little thing. My heart ached.
In the end, the man and woman came back to the car and put their son in the back. They were both calmer but tension was noticeably still in the air. People stood around, not sure whether to move on or not, but we ultimately decided to say goodbye and walk on slowly. The police didn't need to come - or so I hoped - and we drifted away. We walked on up the road, stopped every now and then to look over our shoulder and make sure they were ok - but eventually turned off into our road and our home.
It was only when we got indoors that we could really talk about it. L said he thought he saw the man strike the woman when he jumped into the car initially. He thinks he saw his arm stretch across, and her head swing into the window as if on impact. I didn't see this, and I was left with a feeling that maybe I had failed her. Maybe there was something more I could do.
How do we know whether we should intervene in any situation? How do we know what is the right thing to do? I felt we did the right thing, and I believe it was best for me to approach the woman, rather than my husband, and try to neutralise the situation somehow. I don't know why; I hope it was the right thing to do.
But I also hope telling the police not to come after all was the right thing to do. I couldn't sleep last night thinking that the little boy might end up in tears again. And his mum. Or worse.
And then this morning I read about the shooting in Melbourne, where an innocent bystander intervened in a fight between a man and a woman, and was shot dead - in the middle of the morning rushhour. The woman - who knew her attacker - and another bystander are critical in hospital. I believe the shooter is still on the run.
It made my blood go cold - we acted on instinct to help someone clearly in distress, as did this innocent in Australia, and he paid with his life. I feel somehow guilty, that it was him and not me, and also relieved, that it was not me.
The Melbourne story is here: http://www.guardian.co.uk/australia/story/0,,2105568,00.html
GG
L heard the noise first, and we both saw what looked, to all intents, like an attempted car jacking ahead in the road. A woman was screaming, over and over, sounding terrified, after a man had jumped into her car on the passenger side. There was a scuffle inside and she jumped out of the drivers side, still screaming "get out of my car" and "help!!!" and "get my son out, help me get my son out!!!".
Hubster wanted to intervene, and started to approach the car, but I held him back... I gave him my mobile and told him to call the police and I approached the car. On her side. I don't know why, but something in my brain was saying it's less risky for a woman to approach a woman, rather than a man approaching a man. The woman was hysterical, screaming about getting her son, but when I approached her I realised she knew the man in the passenger seat - he kept calling her name, trying to get her to listen to him and get back in the car.
So the situation was "domestic". To intervene or not to intervene? There are many who would say walk away and don't look back, but I was out on the road, by the rear door, behind the driver's seat, trying to coax her desperately upset child that it was going to be ok. I tried my best to calm them both, the woman was still screaming "help me get my son out of the car" and the man was still trying to placate her.
A six year old boy was positioned between them, traumatised and in tears.
We managed to get the little boy out of the car, and by this stage another couple had joined the fray, as well as a gentleman from a house across the road. We all tried to comfort the boy while the woman and man - eventually - got out of the road and the car and walked a short distance away to continue their screaming match "in private"...
Meanwhile, hubster had been hanging on the line for the police and eventually gave up and hung up. The police rang back a few minutes later, after we had got everyone out of the car - and so he told them things were under control - we thought - and we were advised to call back immediately if we needed assistance. Luckily, we didn't have to.
We chatted to the little boy, trying to distract him and calm him; the other woman who intervened was a teacher and asked him lots of questions (we discovered PE was his favourite subject at school); her brother told him about the Athens Olympics; the friendly neighbour went into his house and came out with an apple for him, and hubster took off his coat and put it on him to keep him warm. He was shaking. I turned the cuffs up so his hands could reach through the sleeves to eat his apple, it just made him look ever more vulnerable in this jacket that fell down around his ankles and his hands.
Poor little thing. My heart ached.
In the end, the man and woman came back to the car and put their son in the back. They were both calmer but tension was noticeably still in the air. People stood around, not sure whether to move on or not, but we ultimately decided to say goodbye and walk on slowly. The police didn't need to come - or so I hoped - and we drifted away. We walked on up the road, stopped every now and then to look over our shoulder and make sure they were ok - but eventually turned off into our road and our home.
It was only when we got indoors that we could really talk about it. L said he thought he saw the man strike the woman when he jumped into the car initially. He thinks he saw his arm stretch across, and her head swing into the window as if on impact. I didn't see this, and I was left with a feeling that maybe I had failed her. Maybe there was something more I could do.
How do we know whether we should intervene in any situation? How do we know what is the right thing to do? I felt we did the right thing, and I believe it was best for me to approach the woman, rather than my husband, and try to neutralise the situation somehow. I don't know why; I hope it was the right thing to do.
But I also hope telling the police not to come after all was the right thing to do. I couldn't sleep last night thinking that the little boy might end up in tears again. And his mum. Or worse.
And then this morning I read about the shooting in Melbourne, where an innocent bystander intervened in a fight between a man and a woman, and was shot dead - in the middle of the morning rushhour. The woman - who knew her attacker - and another bystander are critical in hospital. I believe the shooter is still on the run.
It made my blood go cold - we acted on instinct to help someone clearly in distress, as did this innocent in Australia, and he paid with his life. I feel somehow guilty, that it was him and not me, and also relieved, that it was not me.
The Melbourne story is here: http://www.guardian.co.uk/australia/story/0,,2105568,00.html
GG
Monday 11 June 2007
A Quickie
Oh what a wonderful birthday I had!
I just had to log in and write briefly about it all, get it all in print (before my vacuous brain forgets half of it) and luxuriate in the warmth of it all :D
Yes, I am a year older but it's two years since I've properly celebrated by buffday, being out of the country this time last year in a crappy hotel in Prague, with only the cochroaches to keep us company... so it was with delight hubster told me he was organising a party, and thence my lovely siblings booked flights and brought their better halves with them and landed upon us for the weekend.
Firstly, I think I have been drunk most of the last four days. Now I know you don't need to be drunk to have a good time, but it just happened that I had a good time AND got drunk too. A win-win situation some might say.
But my birthday was great. Hubster had loads of lovely presents for me [I do admit, I picked some of them out myself] but my surprise "introduction to horse riding" course was just FAB. I am both terrified and excited about going horse riding again. I can't wait. What's the saying "feel the fear but do it anyway" .. well, I'll certainly be doing that.
I had THREE birthday cakes. I kid you not. If anyone fancies a bit of choccy cake we've still got the best part of one left! Yum... I made one (just in case!), lovely friend Rosalyn made one and best friend Ali brought one too.... Oh heaven! ...
We danced and drank and sang and boogied til the wee small hours Saturday night. it was Fab. The Smiths, The Cure, ELO, you name it, DJ Hubster played it. Wunderbar!!!
My sister made cocktails and her boyfriend managed to spill beer not once, not twice but three times... my floor was a lovely mucky mess post-party...
Ah well, joyous times. What a wonderful Parteeeee...
I titled this "a quickie" and have still managed to rattle on...
Well, really I was referring to all the hubster and I managed the entire weekend with all the comings and goings... AHEM....
I just had to log in and write briefly about it all, get it all in print (before my vacuous brain forgets half of it) and luxuriate in the warmth of it all :D
Yes, I am a year older but it's two years since I've properly celebrated by buffday, being out of the country this time last year in a crappy hotel in Prague, with only the cochroaches to keep us company... so it was with delight hubster told me he was organising a party, and thence my lovely siblings booked flights and brought their better halves with them and landed upon us for the weekend.
Firstly, I think I have been drunk most of the last four days. Now I know you don't need to be drunk to have a good time, but it just happened that I had a good time AND got drunk too. A win-win situation some might say.
But my birthday was great. Hubster had loads of lovely presents for me [I do admit, I picked some of them out myself] but my surprise "introduction to horse riding" course was just FAB. I am both terrified and excited about going horse riding again. I can't wait. What's the saying "feel the fear but do it anyway" .. well, I'll certainly be doing that.
I had THREE birthday cakes. I kid you not. If anyone fancies a bit of choccy cake we've still got the best part of one left! Yum... I made one (just in case!), lovely friend Rosalyn made one and best friend Ali brought one too.... Oh heaven! ...
We danced and drank and sang and boogied til the wee small hours Saturday night. it was Fab. The Smiths, The Cure, ELO, you name it, DJ Hubster played it. Wunderbar!!!
My sister made cocktails and her boyfriend managed to spill beer not once, not twice but three times... my floor was a lovely mucky mess post-party...
Ah well, joyous times. What a wonderful Parteeeee...
I titled this "a quickie" and have still managed to rattle on...
Well, really I was referring to all the hubster and I managed the entire weekend with all the comings and goings... AHEM....
Wednesday 6 June 2007
Your place or myspace?
Another month later and here I am again! It seems the weeks are flying by and I can't believe we are halfway through 2007 .... I still haven't got used to writing it yet...
Well, first, formalities. No of course I didn't get pregnant last month - ha! As if! - I was unfortunate enough to get my period two days early this month so it's been and gone already. Leaving me with another four weeks to have fun and try not to think about it...
Hmmm, good luck on that last one GG
Anyway, back to May. It wasn't a bad month at all. We had lots of lovely dinners out, met up with my girlfriends a few times and enjoyed many a glass of wine, and we went away for a week to sunnier climes. It was lovely to chill out, enjoy the sunshine and read some good books.
Two recommendations come to the fore:
1. The Time Traveller's Wife - god, I LOVED this book. Fab, fab, fab. Couldn't put it down, didn't want to finish it either. Very enjoyable. There is so much to love about this book, it wouldn't be fair to point to one or two areas, just read it. And love it. I promise you will.
2. An Interpretation of Murder - by Jed Rubenfeld - this was an interesting and enjoyable book. I loved the whole murder-plot-character development scenarios, enjoyed the NY cop, the usual "stubborn and fiesty" young woman and the charming psychoanalyst. It really was good. I felt, though, that the addition of Freud, Jung et al, was a little unnecessary. It read well, but it didn't add that much to the story for me - it was more like the addition of Freud attempted to make the book more appealing, but for me it added little... and when you read a book that mixes both historical fact and fiction, it's hard to know where one ends and the other begins... It's hard to know what to trust.
A final point before I move on - ok, so the end result wasn't the most dramatic but I certainly see this one being a Hollywood movie in a year or two.
Not sure who would play good cop - Leo di Caprio perhaps? The jury's still out on the other characters, for now.
What else has been going on in May? Well, the hubster has set up a myspace website at last. Lovely man!
It's here: http://www.myspace.com/leejcornell
What a talented guy (yes, I know I'm biased, but honestly, listen in and appreciate his writing talents!) I'm v proud of him!
And as for June - oh there are quite a few things planned. We're off to a black tie dinner next week for hubster's job. He looks quite the James Bond in his DJ (or at least, he could get a job refereeing snooker in the future if he's ever out of work!). I am without a tiara sadly (it's apparently a "black tie and tiara" ball) - I think with some relief really! And who really keeps a tiara in the house? Brides, I guess.... Well, to be honest, I did wear one to my own wedding, but that was my something borrowed, so I'm just going to have to go naked - at least, on my head anyway...
This weekend our place is going to be filled to brimming. My wonderful brother and one of my wonderful sisters are coming to visit, along with their respective boy/girl friends (also wonderful!). I'm so looking forward to having them here for the weekend! They arrive tomorrow night into Heathrow.
I've planned a bit of a late supper for us all to kick start the weekend - Nigella's "muglai" chicken, sweet potato and lentil dhal, and the usual naans and basmati rice. Oh, and ton's of booze.
[God, that's one of the good (?) things about infertility; being able to get trashed on a regular basis!]
I've been busying myself sorting out beds and bedding - two in the spare room, two on the sofa bed in the living room. I've stocked up on milk and bread, and lots of crap food, like crisps and things (normally banned from our house!). I've just got to pick up some hangover fry-up food from the local butchers tomorrow and we're sorted for the next few days. We've a weekend of partying, eating and drinking planned and I'm going to enjoy myself. I best do anyway, hubster has made such a wonderful effort in planning all of this! It's my birthday and he's arranged dinner out on Saturday night, and even a cake! (unheard of in our previous seven years!)
OK, that's it for now... off to read some other blogs before dinner ... next time I write I hope to be full of details on this party weekend!
GG
Well, first, formalities. No of course I didn't get pregnant last month - ha! As if! - I was unfortunate enough to get my period two days early this month so it's been and gone already. Leaving me with another four weeks to have fun and try not to think about it...
Hmmm, good luck on that last one GG
Anyway, back to May. It wasn't a bad month at all. We had lots of lovely dinners out, met up with my girlfriends a few times and enjoyed many a glass of wine, and we went away for a week to sunnier climes. It was lovely to chill out, enjoy the sunshine and read some good books.
Two recommendations come to the fore:
1. The Time Traveller's Wife - god, I LOVED this book. Fab, fab, fab. Couldn't put it down, didn't want to finish it either. Very enjoyable. There is so much to love about this book, it wouldn't be fair to point to one or two areas, just read it. And love it. I promise you will.
2. An Interpretation of Murder - by Jed Rubenfeld - this was an interesting and enjoyable book. I loved the whole murder-plot-character development scenarios, enjoyed the NY cop, the usual "stubborn and fiesty" young woman and the charming psychoanalyst. It really was good. I felt, though, that the addition of Freud, Jung et al, was a little unnecessary. It read well, but it didn't add that much to the story for me - it was more like the addition of Freud attempted to make the book more appealing, but for me it added little... and when you read a book that mixes both historical fact and fiction, it's hard to know where one ends and the other begins... It's hard to know what to trust.
A final point before I move on - ok, so the end result wasn't the most dramatic but I certainly see this one being a Hollywood movie in a year or two.
Not sure who would play good cop - Leo di Caprio perhaps? The jury's still out on the other characters, for now.
What else has been going on in May? Well, the hubster has set up a myspace website at last. Lovely man!
It's here: http://www.myspace.com/leejcornell
What a talented guy (yes, I know I'm biased, but honestly, listen in and appreciate his writing talents!) I'm v proud of him!
And as for June - oh there are quite a few things planned. We're off to a black tie dinner next week for hubster's job. He looks quite the James Bond in his DJ (or at least, he could get a job refereeing snooker in the future if he's ever out of work!). I am without a tiara sadly (it's apparently a "black tie and tiara" ball) - I think with some relief really! And who really keeps a tiara in the house? Brides, I guess.... Well, to be honest, I did wear one to my own wedding, but that was my something borrowed, so I'm just going to have to go naked - at least, on my head anyway...
This weekend our place is going to be filled to brimming. My wonderful brother and one of my wonderful sisters are coming to visit, along with their respective boy/girl friends (also wonderful!). I'm so looking forward to having them here for the weekend! They arrive tomorrow night into Heathrow.
I've planned a bit of a late supper for us all to kick start the weekend - Nigella's "muglai" chicken, sweet potato and lentil dhal, and the usual naans and basmati rice. Oh, and ton's of booze.
[God, that's one of the good (?) things about infertility; being able to get trashed on a regular basis!]
I've been busying myself sorting out beds and bedding - two in the spare room, two on the sofa bed in the living room. I've stocked up on milk and bread, and lots of crap food, like crisps and things (normally banned from our house!). I've just got to pick up some hangover fry-up food from the local butchers tomorrow and we're sorted for the next few days. We've a weekend of partying, eating and drinking planned and I'm going to enjoy myself. I best do anyway, hubster has made such a wonderful effort in planning all of this! It's my birthday and he's arranged dinner out on Saturday night, and even a cake! (unheard of in our previous seven years!)
OK, that's it for now... off to read some other blogs before dinner ... next time I write I hope to be full of details on this party weekend!
GG
Tuesday 8 May 2007
New office - new cycle
Today I got the key to my new office - at last! hurrah!
Then I spent the next four hours cleaning it - not such fun :(
But it is fine now, the carpet is torn, the bulletin board a bit worn, and there's a large black ink stain on the desk that I can't seem to shift, but I have cleaned up, moved things around, and got myself comfy for the next 12 months. Hopefully.
Before this new job in criminology I worked for three years at another university, most of the time sharing a desk with a colleague. I managed to keep myself tidy and lived out of one drawer. When I unpacked today, I didn't know where to put things! "oooh! A drawer just for bluetac, another just for lunchtime cutlery, another for my stapler".. lucky ole me. Ah well, I am sure that in time I will have filled things out and when the time comes to move on again I will have managed to collect all number of (mostly unnecessary) things.
The person vacating my room also managed to leave a TON of cr*p. I have filled three black sacks with stuff and there is still an entire bookshelf full of junk that needs sorting and bagging. This is AFTER he came in and cleared his stuff, and AFTER maintenance came in and cleared out most of what he left. So, I get to clear more of his junk too. He must've been here a lifetime. I can't imagine him living out of a single drawer (one drawer alone was full of bits of staples and paperclips).
Is that how I will remember my predecessor? "The dirty man with a drawer full of staples and a solid ink stain on his desk?"
But the 12 month cycle begins in earnest and I'm really enjoying it. I'm looking forward to collecting and collating data and producing something real and tangible in 12 months time.
And my other cycle starts again today too. Another month, another period. While my academic career is in it's infancy, my child producing years are nearing their end and we are no closer to achieving our aim: Something else real and tangible; someone to hold and cuddle and love and adore.
I don't know how much longer I will have to face these cycles but I see no end to them right now. Period arrives, GG cries, period leaves just as swiftly, GG gets filled with hope that THIS will be the month that we do it, but four weeks later it happens all over again. There is nothing new we can do that we haven't already done and the gynie refuses us any further treatment until we hit that magic number 24 - when we've 'officially' tried and failed to get pregnant for 2 years then we will be offered a waiting list for a lap and possibly some clomid. Whoopee. Roll on December so I can get some drugs... I think I will need something stronger by then.
And so the cycles continue, 12 months til my research is published .... 28 days til yet another period... round and round I go
Then I spent the next four hours cleaning it - not such fun :(
But it is fine now, the carpet is torn, the bulletin board a bit worn, and there's a large black ink stain on the desk that I can't seem to shift, but I have cleaned up, moved things around, and got myself comfy for the next 12 months. Hopefully.
Before this new job in criminology I worked for three years at another university, most of the time sharing a desk with a colleague. I managed to keep myself tidy and lived out of one drawer. When I unpacked today, I didn't know where to put things! "oooh! A drawer just for bluetac, another just for lunchtime cutlery, another for my stapler".. lucky ole me. Ah well, I am sure that in time I will have filled things out and when the time comes to move on again I will have managed to collect all number of (mostly unnecessary) things.
The person vacating my room also managed to leave a TON of cr*p. I have filled three black sacks with stuff and there is still an entire bookshelf full of junk that needs sorting and bagging. This is AFTER he came in and cleared his stuff, and AFTER maintenance came in and cleared out most of what he left. So, I get to clear more of his junk too. He must've been here a lifetime. I can't imagine him living out of a single drawer (one drawer alone was full of bits of staples and paperclips).
Is that how I will remember my predecessor? "The dirty man with a drawer full of staples and a solid ink stain on his desk?"
But the 12 month cycle begins in earnest and I'm really enjoying it. I'm looking forward to collecting and collating data and producing something real and tangible in 12 months time.
And my other cycle starts again today too. Another month, another period. While my academic career is in it's infancy, my child producing years are nearing their end and we are no closer to achieving our aim: Something else real and tangible; someone to hold and cuddle and love and adore.
I don't know how much longer I will have to face these cycles but I see no end to them right now. Period arrives, GG cries, period leaves just as swiftly, GG gets filled with hope that THIS will be the month that we do it, but four weeks later it happens all over again. There is nothing new we can do that we haven't already done and the gynie refuses us any further treatment until we hit that magic number 24 - when we've 'officially' tried and failed to get pregnant for 2 years then we will be offered a waiting list for a lap and possibly some clomid. Whoopee. Roll on December so I can get some drugs... I think I will need something stronger by then.
And so the cycles continue, 12 months til my research is published .... 28 days til yet another period... round and round I go
Wednesday 4 April 2007
Easter Ups and Downs
Lots to catch up on! God, I haven't posted in a month! what a lazy ole cow I can be at times...
I re-read my fertile-challenged blog again and I think I've come a long way since then. It's two weeks to go til my next hospital appointment and we find out what The Next Step is. Some days I'm depressed, some weepy, some fine. It's a waiting game at this stage and I'm getting kind of used to that. I'm planning to busy myself with Easter and a trip home between now and then. I've only got a few babies to see and hold and cuddle between now and then - today I'm feeling well able for it.
Last week I even went into Mothercare without my heart racing and my head pounding. I think I'm getting the hang of this lark.
I joke, of course, because whenever I hear the news "I'm pregnant" from someone, something in the depths of my soul skips a little and I can feel my eyes well up as I try to pull myself together. I suppose sometimes I manage it, other times I don't.
***************
But the excellent, wonderful, exciting v v good news is that I've secured another job!!! Yes, Little Miss Criminology here I come....
I've applied, been interviewed, been offered and even started my new job in the time it's been since I last posted! Oh but I am a happy bunny (Easter pun?). I've now got a job as a Research Fellow in Criminology and I'm delighted with myself. I've been so very, very lucky.
When I look back it's about six years since I started doing night courses at Birkbeck in various crime-related topics - "Introduction to Criminology", "Science, Crime & Justice", I did three courses in all by night over the course of a couple of years. Then I brazenly applied for an MSc part-time, was accepted, gave up my job and found another, part-time one to get me through, and last summer I graduated in Crim & Forensic Psychology.
Since then I've gone through peaks and troughs; I've thought I wasn't going to ever get work in this area, to being inundated with offers of interviews. I've come a long way when I look back, and it's been so so worth it. I hope my experiences continue to grow and that the only way is Up from here on.
I'm still doing my part-time teaching and my one day a week research job, and this new post will fit right in for an additional three days a week. I still hanker after that elusive PhD but I promised hubby I'd hold off on applying for that til we get through this year. The baby-business is occupying enough space in the area of my brain marked "stress here" without my trying to weedle my way into funding for a phd. But watch this space, I hope.
I re-read my fertile-challenged blog again and I think I've come a long way since then. It's two weeks to go til my next hospital appointment and we find out what The Next Step is. Some days I'm depressed, some weepy, some fine. It's a waiting game at this stage and I'm getting kind of used to that. I'm planning to busy myself with Easter and a trip home between now and then. I've only got a few babies to see and hold and cuddle between now and then - today I'm feeling well able for it.
Last week I even went into Mothercare without my heart racing and my head pounding. I think I'm getting the hang of this lark.
I joke, of course, because whenever I hear the news "I'm pregnant" from someone, something in the depths of my soul skips a little and I can feel my eyes well up as I try to pull myself together. I suppose sometimes I manage it, other times I don't.
***************
But the excellent, wonderful, exciting v v good news is that I've secured another job!!! Yes, Little Miss Criminology here I come....
I've applied, been interviewed, been offered and even started my new job in the time it's been since I last posted! Oh but I am a happy bunny (Easter pun?). I've now got a job as a Research Fellow in Criminology and I'm delighted with myself. I've been so very, very lucky.
When I look back it's about six years since I started doing night courses at Birkbeck in various crime-related topics - "Introduction to Criminology", "Science, Crime & Justice", I did three courses in all by night over the course of a couple of years. Then I brazenly applied for an MSc part-time, was accepted, gave up my job and found another, part-time one to get me through, and last summer I graduated in Crim & Forensic Psychology.
Since then I've gone through peaks and troughs; I've thought I wasn't going to ever get work in this area, to being inundated with offers of interviews. I've come a long way when I look back, and it's been so so worth it. I hope my experiences continue to grow and that the only way is Up from here on.
I'm still doing my part-time teaching and my one day a week research job, and this new post will fit right in for an additional three days a week. I still hanker after that elusive PhD but I promised hubby I'd hold off on applying for that til we get through this year. The baby-business is occupying enough space in the area of my brain marked "stress here" without my trying to weedle my way into funding for a phd. But watch this space, I hope.
*******************
My last bit of good news is that, filled with dread that the Baby Doc would take one look at me and tell me IVF was a no-no unless I lost a load of weight, I have been diligently dieting for the past four weeks and I'm down half a stone thus far. I'm thrilled. I even went out and bought myself some news clothes to celebrate. I've still got a fair way to go, though, and getting through the next fortnight isn't exactly ideal, but at least it's going in the right direction. The lovely, yummy Easter Egg from www.hotelchocolat.co.uk possibly isn't going to help maintain that weight loss in the short term, but I'm going to take my time with it. Besides, it looks way too good to miss.
I'm ready for the Baby Doc now, here's hoping...
Happy Easter x
I'm ready for the Baby Doc now, here's hoping...
Happy Easter x
Thursday 1 March 2007
Fertile challenged, anyone?
I think I am actually still in a little shock at the moment.
I mean, I can think and write quite sensibly today about work and home and general day-to-day nothingness, but then I have to think about my fertility. And everything swims a little bit. And I get a bit dazed and weepy... and can't quite get my head around things.
Y'see, not only am I trying to become the next top Criminologist in the country (never mind the next Nigella Lawson) but I'm also trying to become a parent. I'd love to have a baby. I dream about children, always thought it was just one of those things that would happen, eventually, and it would all fall together easily.
But life's not like that. For some of us.
From when we got married and said, let's throw away the pill and get down to the fun of babymaking... to now, 18 months later and what have I got to show for it? Countless failed cycles and then today's news.
I'm racing ahead again.
Time to think rationally and start at the beginning.
I have endometriosis. It's mild. It's not conception-threatening, or so I thought. It's uncomfortable, it's painful, but I can cope with it.
We tried to conceive for about eight months before I started getting quite "stressed". I started to wonder if something was really wrong. All around me people were planning and getting pregnant or accidentally falling pregnant and babies were being born left, right and centre. I went to christenings. They weren't easy but we did our bit.
I eventually went to the doctor and said I want to investigate this further.
Now, there are plenty of people out there, so so many, who have suffered with infertility for years and years and years, and I am a relative newcomer with only 16 cycles under my belt, but the shock when it hits is just horrendous. Suddenly, the thing you should be able to do without even thinking about it, the thing you've been using birth control to avoid for all of your twenties and some of your thirties, that THING is just not possible. And I don't know for how long. I don't know if it will ever be possible, or to what lengths I might have to go to to achieve it.
So, the gynie meets us both and (practically) laughs at us: Trying for 13 months, ha! In the old days when women didn't read the internet or educate themselves, they'd be trying for at least two years before we'd even consider seeing them..
That kind of approach. Now, he was a nice man but I think he was expecting us to fall out of his clinic and fall pregnant within hours of our first visit - you know the drill, once you start investigations you suddenly conceive "naturally"
Well, it doesn't happen to everyone. And it didn't to us.
So we fastforward another three months and I had a horrible procedure called a "hsg" done (I won't spell the whole thing, most people wouldn't know what it was if you pronounced its "full" name). A radiographer basically inserts die into your cervix and this should show up on an xray and show two working, functioning tubes and a healthy womb.
Shit. Fuck. Shite.
Only one tube showed up. Only one. My lovely left tube, which has always caused me the most endo pain and I thought was the problem area all along, is working a bloody treat. It looked beautiful on the xray - I kid you not!
But the right one... couldn't quite make it out. Didn't seem to be working. No working tube, no egg to reach it's warm home. No baby nine months later.
Now I KNOW you only need one tube to work to make a baby, but I THINK I've just found out I've half the chance of most "normal" women.
Is it going to take twice as long?
Is this just the beginning?
Am I now - officially - "infertile". I guess not, I have one working tube.
So maybe I am now - officially - Fertile-challenged.
And I still don't think it's sunk in yet....
I mean, I can think and write quite sensibly today about work and home and general day-to-day nothingness, but then I have to think about my fertility. And everything swims a little bit. And I get a bit dazed and weepy... and can't quite get my head around things.
Y'see, not only am I trying to become the next top Criminologist in the country (never mind the next Nigella Lawson) but I'm also trying to become a parent. I'd love to have a baby. I dream about children, always thought it was just one of those things that would happen, eventually, and it would all fall together easily.
But life's not like that. For some of us.
From when we got married and said, let's throw away the pill and get down to the fun of babymaking... to now, 18 months later and what have I got to show for it? Countless failed cycles and then today's news.
I'm racing ahead again.
Time to think rationally and start at the beginning.
I have endometriosis. It's mild. It's not conception-threatening, or so I thought. It's uncomfortable, it's painful, but I can cope with it.
We tried to conceive for about eight months before I started getting quite "stressed". I started to wonder if something was really wrong. All around me people were planning and getting pregnant or accidentally falling pregnant and babies were being born left, right and centre. I went to christenings. They weren't easy but we did our bit.
I eventually went to the doctor and said I want to investigate this further.
Now, there are plenty of people out there, so so many, who have suffered with infertility for years and years and years, and I am a relative newcomer with only 16 cycles under my belt, but the shock when it hits is just horrendous. Suddenly, the thing you should be able to do without even thinking about it, the thing you've been using birth control to avoid for all of your twenties and some of your thirties, that THING is just not possible. And I don't know for how long. I don't know if it will ever be possible, or to what lengths I might have to go to to achieve it.
So, the gynie meets us both and (practically) laughs at us: Trying for 13 months, ha! In the old days when women didn't read the internet or educate themselves, they'd be trying for at least two years before we'd even consider seeing them..
That kind of approach. Now, he was a nice man but I think he was expecting us to fall out of his clinic and fall pregnant within hours of our first visit - you know the drill, once you start investigations you suddenly conceive "naturally"
Well, it doesn't happen to everyone. And it didn't to us.
So we fastforward another three months and I had a horrible procedure called a "hsg" done (I won't spell the whole thing, most people wouldn't know what it was if you pronounced its "full" name). A radiographer basically inserts die into your cervix and this should show up on an xray and show two working, functioning tubes and a healthy womb.
Shit. Fuck. Shite.
Only one tube showed up. Only one. My lovely left tube, which has always caused me the most endo pain and I thought was the problem area all along, is working a bloody treat. It looked beautiful on the xray - I kid you not!
But the right one... couldn't quite make it out. Didn't seem to be working. No working tube, no egg to reach it's warm home. No baby nine months later.
Now I KNOW you only need one tube to work to make a baby, but I THINK I've just found out I've half the chance of most "normal" women.
Is it going to take twice as long?
Is this just the beginning?
Am I now - officially - "infertile". I guess not, I have one working tube.
So maybe I am now - officially - Fertile-challenged.
And I still don't think it's sunk in yet....
Crime might pay a wee bit ...
Hurray!
I have finally managed to put my foot in the door, no - make that toe in the door! - of the crime world! I started the new year feeling miserable and thinking I would never get a job in this area and I decided I was just going to apply for all and sundry that came along...
So, three job applications and one phd submission later.. two of the three jobs want to interview me and the phd people loved my idea! (Or at least, I thought they did, more on that later!)
Before I even had time to go along for interviews though, another possible job came along... I was offered an opportunity to work one day per week as a research assistant at the university where I teach (also once a week, for a very small fee!). I ummed and ahhhed and decided to only go along to one of the two interviews, after which I decided I'd much rather be an RA than a Database Manager so I pulled out of the application process for job number 2.
That left me with an eight month RA position, once a week... and a possible interest in my phd.
My phd proposal is based upon the dissertation I wrote for my Masters degree. It centres around a comparative study of experiences of crime and victimisation. It's not something I'm HUGELY passionate about, but I did think it would be a really interesting option and would be a worthwhile piece of research ...
So a university comes along and says, yes, we love your proposal and would like to put it forward for our Vice Chancellors award. Are you interested?
Me: Yes
Them: Mind if we tweak it a little first?
Me: Depends what area is being tweaked!
Fastforward to a telephone conversation with one of the lecturers who "really likes" my idea but suggests "How about an ethnographic study of one school"...
Me: Umm, yes. OK.
48 hours later...
Me: Umm, actually no.
I really really really would LOVE to do a phd, but I really want to do it in an area I'M interested in. An ethnographic study of school children's opinions of crime just made me want to cringe. I just don't think it would engage me or interest me enough for THREE whole years....
I wanted to do a comparative study. There are so few out there.
Maybe I am aiming too high. But ultimately, I don't want to do an ethnographic study.
So I pulled out.
Then I thought, oh god, what have I done? What if this is my one opportunity to do a phd and I've turned it down (although of course the funding was not guaranteed, I would have had to be shortlisted, etc, etc)??
Hubby was very supportive. And encouraging. And sensible:
It would've meant me moving to another city - or driving 2 hours one-way two to three days per week if I'd got it. It would've been in an area I wasn't enthralled with. It wouldn't have been RIGHT. For me.
So I took hubby's comments on board and here I go again....
Still working part-time as an RA, at least for the next eight months... and still teaching one afternoon per week, for the next three months...
And of course still a secretary...
But we're getting there... slowly.. but getting there
GG
I have finally managed to put my foot in the door, no - make that toe in the door! - of the crime world! I started the new year feeling miserable and thinking I would never get a job in this area and I decided I was just going to apply for all and sundry that came along...
So, three job applications and one phd submission later.. two of the three jobs want to interview me and the phd people loved my idea! (Or at least, I thought they did, more on that later!)
Before I even had time to go along for interviews though, another possible job came along... I was offered an opportunity to work one day per week as a research assistant at the university where I teach (also once a week, for a very small fee!). I ummed and ahhhed and decided to only go along to one of the two interviews, after which I decided I'd much rather be an RA than a Database Manager so I pulled out of the application process for job number 2.
That left me with an eight month RA position, once a week... and a possible interest in my phd.
My phd proposal is based upon the dissertation I wrote for my Masters degree. It centres around a comparative study of experiences of crime and victimisation. It's not something I'm HUGELY passionate about, but I did think it would be a really interesting option and would be a worthwhile piece of research ...
So a university comes along and says, yes, we love your proposal and would like to put it forward for our Vice Chancellors award. Are you interested?
Me: Yes
Them: Mind if we tweak it a little first?
Me: Depends what area is being tweaked!
Fastforward to a telephone conversation with one of the lecturers who "really likes" my idea but suggests "How about an ethnographic study of one school"...
Me: Umm, yes. OK.
48 hours later...
Me: Umm, actually no.
I really really really would LOVE to do a phd, but I really want to do it in an area I'M interested in. An ethnographic study of school children's opinions of crime just made me want to cringe. I just don't think it would engage me or interest me enough for THREE whole years....
I wanted to do a comparative study. There are so few out there.
Maybe I am aiming too high. But ultimately, I don't want to do an ethnographic study.
So I pulled out.
Then I thought, oh god, what have I done? What if this is my one opportunity to do a phd and I've turned it down (although of course the funding was not guaranteed, I would have had to be shortlisted, etc, etc)??
Hubby was very supportive. And encouraging. And sensible:
It would've meant me moving to another city - or driving 2 hours one-way two to three days per week if I'd got it. It would've been in an area I wasn't enthralled with. It wouldn't have been RIGHT. For me.
So I took hubby's comments on board and here I go again....
Still working part-time as an RA, at least for the next eight months... and still teaching one afternoon per week, for the next three months...
And of course still a secretary...
But we're getting there... slowly.. but getting there
GG
Monday 8 January 2007
new year, new blog
I thought it was time to drag myself into the 21st century and fulfill at least one of my new year resolutions... so here it is, my blog.
*fireworks, fanfares, please*
Hmmm... still waiting ...
As someone who tends to have an opinion on everything, I suddenly find myself lost for words. I'm not exactly sure what I want this blog to achieve, or what form it will take, if any, so these posts may ramble, but then from what I've seen many blogs do. Ok, I'll introduce myself (to whom?).
I am a recently qualified cake-baking criminologist, who decided to go back to school a few years ago. To clarify, the criminology is the qualification, not the cake baking. The baking achievements came late in life, so I'm hoping the criminal justice opportunities will follow suit. I am fairly desperate for a job, any opportunity to drag myself out of a variety of sleep-inducing admin roles, and hoping that eventually crime will pay, for me anyhow.
What else can I say about me? I've realised that by setting up a blog I've had to define myself, and it's interesting to see my first two definitions of who I am relate to food and crime.
So I best get my priorities straight. I'm also married, very happily so. When my husband reads this I hope he understand he's not third on my list of priorities in RL. I never thought I could be with someone as amazing as him, and each day I am surprised he is still there, and still thinks I am amazing too .... isn't nature strange?
What else? Yes, I'm reasonably old. Well, not exactly pushing it, but I've got to that "comfortable in my own skin" stage in life, and am quietly content (but tell no one that!). I have been lucky enough to see a lot of amazing places in the world and do a lot of fab things, and I'm looking forward to more of the same.
Life? Great home, lovely house in dear old London. I write that with a smirk; I have been feeling lately that London is getting too blooming crowded, there's too much traffic and too much pollution and it's every (wo)man for himself. Y'see, definitely an "old" point of view. Might be time to move ...
Kids? Nope. Big fat zero on the success front there. But hope springs eternal.
New year, new hope.
GG
*fireworks, fanfares, please*
Hmmm... still waiting ...
As someone who tends to have an opinion on everything, I suddenly find myself lost for words. I'm not exactly sure what I want this blog to achieve, or what form it will take, if any, so these posts may ramble, but then from what I've seen many blogs do. Ok, I'll introduce myself (to whom?).
I am a recently qualified cake-baking criminologist, who decided to go back to school a few years ago. To clarify, the criminology is the qualification, not the cake baking. The baking achievements came late in life, so I'm hoping the criminal justice opportunities will follow suit. I am fairly desperate for a job, any opportunity to drag myself out of a variety of sleep-inducing admin roles, and hoping that eventually crime will pay, for me anyhow.
What else can I say about me? I've realised that by setting up a blog I've had to define myself, and it's interesting to see my first two definitions of who I am relate to food and crime.
So I best get my priorities straight. I'm also married, very happily so. When my husband reads this I hope he understand he's not third on my list of priorities in RL. I never thought I could be with someone as amazing as him, and each day I am surprised he is still there, and still thinks I am amazing too .... isn't nature strange?
What else? Yes, I'm reasonably old. Well, not exactly pushing it, but I've got to that "comfortable in my own skin" stage in life, and am quietly content (but tell no one that!). I have been lucky enough to see a lot of amazing places in the world and do a lot of fab things, and I'm looking forward to more of the same.
Life? Great home, lovely house in dear old London. I write that with a smirk; I have been feeling lately that London is getting too blooming crowded, there's too much traffic and too much pollution and it's every (wo)man for himself. Y'see, definitely an "old" point of view. Might be time to move ...
Kids? Nope. Big fat zero on the success front there. But hope springs eternal.
New year, new hope.
GG
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