There are times in your battle with infertility when you sit back, take time out, and just chill. You try not to let things bother you, you visit friends with babies, you may even look at cute kids in prams (without going 'Ouch!') and you just generally get on with life. You go out for dinners, drinks, go to parties, stay up late watching movies, have lie-ins on Sunday mornings (and Saturdays too if you want), have sex if and when you feel like it, and you generally enjoy being a couple together... Life feels good.
And then, whaddya know, it all comes back to bite you in the bum. Fecking infertility. It drives me mad. And it frustrates me, and it is just generally a pain in the ass.
I decided to go give blood today because it's been ages since my last donation, and it is, to be honest, something I've always felt a little guilty about not doing. So off I toddled to our local bank with a good book and volunteered myself. But they wouldn't take me. They couldn't take me. Because I'd had a laparoscopy recently. Pah! I have to wait at least six months since the lap before they will let me donate. The thing is, I feel fine, I've lost weight, I'm eating well and still they can't take my blood. And I'm not blaming them, I'm just bloody annoyed that stupid infertility has stopped me doing something I really wanted to do. Again.
It feels sometimes like IF takes over every little part of your life, well, my life. As a woman, you have to time holidays to fit round tests, you have to book appointments around work, you can't give blood if you've had surgery (fair enough I know, but I still blame infertility!), you have to watch what you eat, what you drink, what you do, you spend your free time surfing the internet for details on any and all forms of infertility, or else you're chasing specialists and gynie appointments... and all that is before you even start thinking about the effect it has on you emotionally. You avoid friends, you avoid family, you hate going to places where there's an abundance of prams, mothers, babies... you name it, you avoid it. You're sick of buying bloody folic acid and you're fed up with the whole rigmarole.
Right now, thanks to some silly insignificant thing like trying to give blood, all those emotions rouse up inside me and I'm fed up all over again.
I hate this bloody thing.
Ohhhh.... but it feels better just to let it all out. Thanks for listening.
And as for the lap? Well, it was fine, nothing wrong with me. Unexplained Infertility is the latest diagnosis.
Whoopee...
Tuesday, 3 June 2008
Thursday, 6 March 2008
Two for two (and nought for four)
A flying visit to a Nordic country was very much welcomed this week. Although the freezing cold wind wasn't...
I am just back from a Victimology conference where I presented my very first paper as an "academic", if you can really call me that (I still think I'm a secretary pretending to be an academic!). It was well received and there was a little bit of interest from a notable Irish representative, so fingers crossed something comes of that.
I also managed to complete my first ever lecture, by coincidence also on Victims of Crime, so all in all it's been a good week for me work-wise. Although I'm completely knackered from travelling, sitting in lectures and generally hob-nobbing with our Nordic cousins.
Speaking of work, it's still hectic and continues to be so with little room for rest and recuperation. The last few weeks I've been involved in my usual day-to-day responsibilities (obviously), organising a student conference, writing a lecture, writing and presenting a paper, and marking students work... Plus, we're trying to get this paper published so need to complete writing it up. I think I can safely say, it's only about half-way there right now.
However, I finally set myself a few days off to just generally chill out and catch up with the ever-increasing amount of housework that needs doing, but then I received details on a possible phd and decided to bite the bullet and put a phd application together. Nothing to it really, I've just got to write a few pages of proposal, including literature review, by next week... eeeeeekkkk..... No, I'm refusing to panic, at least not til tomorrow...
Despite all of the stress, my career, still in it's infancy, is taking it's first few wobbly steps and will hopefully be walking and running in no time. Feedback has been great and I'm working with a really interesting group of people. I'm enjoying it as much now as I did a year ago, even more so really...
On top of all of this, we had our fourth and last cycle of fertility treatment and that again failed. So we scored zero from four months of trying (and the odds were so good, I really thought it was all we needed). So no more clomid for me - which I have to say, I am actually quite happy about - and now we are waiting for a laparoscopy before I can move on to the dreaded iui and ivf. The jury is still out on it all right now, I guess I am just hoping, somewhere deep in the back of my mind, that it won't come to that. That we won't have to make that decision, but we are getting ever closer and have talked lots about it.
As my mother used to say when I asked for something she really didn't want to give me, We Will See.
I am just back from a Victimology conference where I presented my very first paper as an "academic", if you can really call me that (I still think I'm a secretary pretending to be an academic!). It was well received and there was a little bit of interest from a notable Irish representative, so fingers crossed something comes of that.
I also managed to complete my first ever lecture, by coincidence also on Victims of Crime, so all in all it's been a good week for me work-wise. Although I'm completely knackered from travelling, sitting in lectures and generally hob-nobbing with our Nordic cousins.
Speaking of work, it's still hectic and continues to be so with little room for rest and recuperation. The last few weeks I've been involved in my usual day-to-day responsibilities (obviously), organising a student conference, writing a lecture, writing and presenting a paper, and marking students work... Plus, we're trying to get this paper published so need to complete writing it up. I think I can safely say, it's only about half-way there right now.
However, I finally set myself a few days off to just generally chill out and catch up with the ever-increasing amount of housework that needs doing, but then I received details on a possible phd and decided to bite the bullet and put a phd application together. Nothing to it really, I've just got to write a few pages of proposal, including literature review, by next week... eeeeeekkkk..... No, I'm refusing to panic, at least not til tomorrow...
Despite all of the stress, my career, still in it's infancy, is taking it's first few wobbly steps and will hopefully be walking and running in no time. Feedback has been great and I'm working with a really interesting group of people. I'm enjoying it as much now as I did a year ago, even more so really...
On top of all of this, we had our fourth and last cycle of fertility treatment and that again failed. So we scored zero from four months of trying (and the odds were so good, I really thought it was all we needed). So no more clomid for me - which I have to say, I am actually quite happy about - and now we are waiting for a laparoscopy before I can move on to the dreaded iui and ivf. The jury is still out on it all right now, I guess I am just hoping, somewhere deep in the back of my mind, that it won't come to that. That we won't have to make that decision, but we are getting ever closer and have talked lots about it.
As my mother used to say when I asked for something she really didn't want to give me, We Will See.
Monday, 11 February 2008
It's been a while...
Twenty eight cycles to be precise. Twenty eight attempts to get pregnant, three of which with fertility drugs, and none have worked so far.
Right now, I feel I am reaching the end of the road.
We are into our fourth cycle of treatment, and physically, I am feeling ok this month. A little tired, a little crabby, but generally ok. Emotionally, I am also hanging in there and trying to stay positive.
But I have, I believe, started to accept that it may never happen to us. If one in six couples experience infertility, then hey - it's our bad luck that we have. But if 4 in 5 couple who attempt fertility treatment still fail to conceive, then I don't really like thinking about those odds.
I'm committed - we're both committed - to doing IUI if this cycle of clomid doesn't work, but I must admit to feeling a little scared about the injections, the drugs, the side effects, the stress...
Honestly, I'm not sure if I want to do IVF if that doesn't work. I never thought I'd feel this way, I've never understood people who've said they don't want to do IVF, but in the last few weeks, I have come to understand that perspective. WE have to come first. I'm not sure if I want to put our relationship through all of this over and over and over again. It's just not fair.
I've spoken to L and as always he's listened and been wonderful. But I think he too is relieved that we might one day draw a line under this. I want to be able to say: We've tried, we've tried as hard as we could, but we had to stop sometime.
I know I will feel differently when my period comes, if my period comes, and there will be times when I will never want to give up, but in all honestly, how much of this is fair - on both of us? Just writing this all down may help me in the next few months...
I have to let go on my desire to have a biological child, somehow, and get on with planning our future together.
I don't believe in "if it's meant to be, it will be" but I do believe in making the best of what you've got. And we've still got each other; and we're amazing together. So let's celebrate that for a while.
Right now, I feel I am reaching the end of the road.
We are into our fourth cycle of treatment, and physically, I am feeling ok this month. A little tired, a little crabby, but generally ok. Emotionally, I am also hanging in there and trying to stay positive.
But I have, I believe, started to accept that it may never happen to us. If one in six couples experience infertility, then hey - it's our bad luck that we have. But if 4 in 5 couple who attempt fertility treatment still fail to conceive, then I don't really like thinking about those odds.
I'm committed - we're both committed - to doing IUI if this cycle of clomid doesn't work, but I must admit to feeling a little scared about the injections, the drugs, the side effects, the stress...
Honestly, I'm not sure if I want to do IVF if that doesn't work. I never thought I'd feel this way, I've never understood people who've said they don't want to do IVF, but in the last few weeks, I have come to understand that perspective. WE have to come first. I'm not sure if I want to put our relationship through all of this over and over and over again. It's just not fair.
I've spoken to L and as always he's listened and been wonderful. But I think he too is relieved that we might one day draw a line under this. I want to be able to say: We've tried, we've tried as hard as we could, but we had to stop sometime.
I know I will feel differently when my period comes, if my period comes, and there will be times when I will never want to give up, but in all honestly, how much of this is fair - on both of us? Just writing this all down may help me in the next few months...
I have to let go on my desire to have a biological child, somehow, and get on with planning our future together.
I don't believe in "if it's meant to be, it will be" but I do believe in making the best of what you've got. And we've still got each other; and we're amazing together. So let's celebrate that for a while.
Thursday, 17 January 2008
Cycle 29, day 14
It's CD14, 3rd month on fertility drugs.
I'm umming and ahhing about this months cycle. I took clomid on CDs 3-7 (late because my period arrived so early last month we had no drugs with us when we were away for the weekend). The last two cycles I could feel golf balls in my belly by cd10 or 11. Nothing doing this time round. I had a scan on cd11 and there were only two small follicles - around 12mm and 16mm - as well as a few teeny ones, and my lining was a measly 6mm. Usually I'm well into the 20mm stakes by now and my lining's about 8mm so Gynie thought I'd another few days to go yet.
He offered me another scan later in the week but I figured I'd know when I was about to Ovulate (cue Buddha belly), so he was happy for me to go ahead with TSI (Timed Sexual Intercourse - how romantic!). L and I decided on a relaxed, every-other-day approach and the last couple of days my belly has been seriously sore and is starting to swell. I don't think I've OV'd yet, but then again, you never know.... I might get back to you on that one.
This is possibly our last attempt with clomid. By now, I've read all the statistics, I've responded well, and I really should've been pregnant last time around - I could tell by the look on my Gynie's face when I told him it hadn't happened. I've a 40% chance of conceiving within the first three months of clomid so there is still a lot of hope on this cycle, but Gynie has said in his opinion it's time to move to IUI if this one doesn't work.
IUI....
IUI!!!!!
Yikes.... Mr Google was kept busy after that appointment!
The plan is to do injectibles to stimulate my follicles, and then a trigger, followed by insemination. Gynie feels the injectibles will thicken my lining more (better than the clomid) and this will give us a better shot. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained!
So I guess I almost feel like this cycle is over already and have been thinking about the next step. I am reading up, discussing, thinking, debating IUI, statistics and all. Once you get on this rollercoaster of TTC it seems to take on a life of it's own, and I just follow, relieved that we are at least doing something now.
On that last note, I do feel we are fighting "proper" infertility now, if there is such a thing. Up to now, I've been feeling it's a mixture of bad luck and not trying hard enough. But honestly, how hard do you have to try after all these months? We've done the meds and they haven't worked (so far), and we're moving on to ART.
A year ago I was just one of "those women" who was probably seen as obsessing about TTC and was worrying about nothing; now we are gearing up for the most invasive treatment yet, and in all likelihood will be moving to IVF if our three attempts at IUI are not a blast.
And yet, all of this comes at a premium. We have paid to have this treatment, see this consultant, start these meds etc... The NHS saw us almost a year ago, gave us a clean bill of health and told us to go away for a year and get pregnant. Emmm, well that didn't quite work...
So really, we should still be waiting patiently for our next follow-up to discuss the next step (NHS consultant suggested possibly clomid if nothing had happened by Jan 08). And we realise how fortunate we are that we have the funds there for me to see my own gynie privately. I was going stir-crazy when no one wanted to know. I couldn't take month after month of hope, then despair, then hope again...
This month I received that follow-up appointment from the NHS; I'm back at the clinic in two weeks time for a review. I'm still going along to it because I want to tell the consultant how far we've come:
"Remember you told us you'd think about clomid in a year's time... well, we've been there, done that..."
(There's still a part of the Optimistic Me who hopes to add "AND HEY! Guess what?! We're pregnant - from clomid - after all!!!")
Private thoughts
Part of me regrets that we've had to do this privately. And part of me is relieved also. With the NHS, we should only be thinking about starting drugs sometime in the near future, so that iui, and ivf and all those other options would still be pipedreams. As it stands, we may possibly have our longed-for baby in the next 12 months or so.... or at least be far closer to it than if we were going public.
I hate that the system works that way, and I am so angry for all those other women who are just like me but can't afford to do what we are doing.
It's so unfair. But I thank God every day that we don't have to wait.
I'm umming and ahhing about this months cycle. I took clomid on CDs 3-7 (late because my period arrived so early last month we had no drugs with us when we were away for the weekend). The last two cycles I could feel golf balls in my belly by cd10 or 11. Nothing doing this time round. I had a scan on cd11 and there were only two small follicles - around 12mm and 16mm - as well as a few teeny ones, and my lining was a measly 6mm. Usually I'm well into the 20mm stakes by now and my lining's about 8mm so Gynie thought I'd another few days to go yet.
He offered me another scan later in the week but I figured I'd know when I was about to Ovulate (cue Buddha belly), so he was happy for me to go ahead with TSI (Timed Sexual Intercourse - how romantic!). L and I decided on a relaxed, every-other-day approach and the last couple of days my belly has been seriously sore and is starting to swell. I don't think I've OV'd yet, but then again, you never know.... I might get back to you on that one.
This is possibly our last attempt with clomid. By now, I've read all the statistics, I've responded well, and I really should've been pregnant last time around - I could tell by the look on my Gynie's face when I told him it hadn't happened. I've a 40% chance of conceiving within the first three months of clomid so there is still a lot of hope on this cycle, but Gynie has said in his opinion it's time to move to IUI if this one doesn't work.
IUI....
IUI!!!!!
Yikes.... Mr Google was kept busy after that appointment!
The plan is to do injectibles to stimulate my follicles, and then a trigger, followed by insemination. Gynie feels the injectibles will thicken my lining more (better than the clomid) and this will give us a better shot. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained!
So I guess I almost feel like this cycle is over already and have been thinking about the next step. I am reading up, discussing, thinking, debating IUI, statistics and all. Once you get on this rollercoaster of TTC it seems to take on a life of it's own, and I just follow, relieved that we are at least doing something now.
On that last note, I do feel we are fighting "proper" infertility now, if there is such a thing. Up to now, I've been feeling it's a mixture of bad luck and not trying hard enough. But honestly, how hard do you have to try after all these months? We've done the meds and they haven't worked (so far), and we're moving on to ART.
A year ago I was just one of "those women" who was probably seen as obsessing about TTC and was worrying about nothing; now we are gearing up for the most invasive treatment yet, and in all likelihood will be moving to IVF if our three attempts at IUI are not a blast.
And yet, all of this comes at a premium. We have paid to have this treatment, see this consultant, start these meds etc... The NHS saw us almost a year ago, gave us a clean bill of health and told us to go away for a year and get pregnant. Emmm, well that didn't quite work...
So really, we should still be waiting patiently for our next follow-up to discuss the next step (NHS consultant suggested possibly clomid if nothing had happened by Jan 08). And we realise how fortunate we are that we have the funds there for me to see my own gynie privately. I was going stir-crazy when no one wanted to know. I couldn't take month after month of hope, then despair, then hope again...
This month I received that follow-up appointment from the NHS; I'm back at the clinic in two weeks time for a review. I'm still going along to it because I want to tell the consultant how far we've come:
"Remember you told us you'd think about clomid in a year's time... well, we've been there, done that..."
(There's still a part of the Optimistic Me who hopes to add "AND HEY! Guess what?! We're pregnant - from clomid - after all!!!")
Private thoughts
Part of me regrets that we've had to do this privately. And part of me is relieved also. With the NHS, we should only be thinking about starting drugs sometime in the near future, so that iui, and ivf and all those other options would still be pipedreams. As it stands, we may possibly have our longed-for baby in the next 12 months or so.... or at least be far closer to it than if we were going public.
I hate that the system works that way, and I am so angry for all those other women who are just like me but can't afford to do what we are doing.
It's so unfair. But I thank God every day that we don't have to wait.
Monday, 7 January 2008
Happy New Year!
Welcome, welcome 2008!
I am looking forward - somewhat - to the coming 12 months. I am tirelessly optimistic. I even managed not to cry on New Year's Day - a first for me as I am often tearful when I consider my previous years existence!
2007 was a great success for me professionally - I am now working regularly as a Criminologist and finished the year with some positive news; a new 18-month contract on another research project, hurray! I am also one third of the way through my current course, a qualification in teaching in higher education, with great feedback so far.
2007 has also been another wonderful year with L. We have had numerous fun nights, both in and out, spent lots of time with friends and family, had plenty of holidays - the last of which was on the other side of the world! - and our relationship has grown and been stronger with each passing month. We are very happy together.
2008 offers us the possibility of increasing that happiness.
I have just started my third month of infertility treatment and am as confident and positive as I could possibly be. There is still oodles of hope, and there is plenty of time, so I refuse to feel anything less than confident. We are on Day 4 of my cycle so, who knows, this time next month could be expecting our first babe!
Happy New Year
GGxx
I am looking forward - somewhat - to the coming 12 months. I am tirelessly optimistic. I even managed not to cry on New Year's Day - a first for me as I am often tearful when I consider my previous years existence!
2007 was a great success for me professionally - I am now working regularly as a Criminologist and finished the year with some positive news; a new 18-month contract on another research project, hurray! I am also one third of the way through my current course, a qualification in teaching in higher education, with great feedback so far.
2007 has also been another wonderful year with L. We have had numerous fun nights, both in and out, spent lots of time with friends and family, had plenty of holidays - the last of which was on the other side of the world! - and our relationship has grown and been stronger with each passing month. We are very happy together.
2008 offers us the possibility of increasing that happiness.
I have just started my third month of infertility treatment and am as confident and positive as I could possibly be. There is still oodles of hope, and there is plenty of time, so I refuse to feel anything less than confident. We are on Day 4 of my cycle so, who knows, this time next month could be expecting our first babe!
Happy New Year
GGxx
Monday, 10 December 2007
Desperate for an immaculate conception...
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
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
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
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