Old Years Eve Plans

Right after work we are driving to my brother in law’s wifes fathers (what a bloody mouthful!) game farm and that is where we will be seeing in 2009. 

It is going to be quiet and family oriented – long gone are the days of me going out with mates to some nightclubby place, getting slaughtered and trying to drive home safely.  (Not that there are not times for this type of party of course, it’s just not going to happen tonight is all.)

I wish you all well as you bring in the new year and whatever you’re doing, wherever you’re going and whomever you spend it with – above all be safe and be happy!

Bring on 2009!

Knock, Knock, Knocking

Holy Crap Dudes! 

2009 is just literally the corner.  And you know what that means, that means fertility treatment… Once again facing the “sparrows fart” mornings, the dildo cam, the injections, the anxiety, the numerous pass/fail points and if we make it that far  – the dreaded 2ww.

In many ways the 5 month ttc break we’ve been on has been good for me.  I’ve realised that I needed to seek therapy to deal with my undealt with anger and remorse over possbilities lost this year (IVF # 1 and FET = FAIL) and the fact that I felt like such a FAILURE for not being able to do what *should* come naturally to me as a woman.  I’ve realised that far too often I take this sense of failure and self deprecation out on the one I love and that because I do this I’ve hurt my marriage.  Most of all this break has given us both a measure  of healing – whether it be internally or for our relationship or just in general looking out at the world going on around us. 

I must admit that at times during this ttc break I’ve felt like I’ve been living in a snow globe – standing in the middle of a snow cloud - looking out as the people around me carried on with life, laughing, procreating and being happy.  And all the while I’ve been in my globe dealing with the aftermath of my shattered dreams.  But you know what?  Somehow through therapy and looking within myself that globe started to crack, and slowly but surely I’ve clawed my way out and onto the path to my happiness again. 

Can I at this stage see myself living child free – not a chance!  But can I see myself being happy while I pursue this dream of ours – heck yes… cos at the end of the day, happiness is where the heart is.  And my heart is surrounded by love of family and friends and right about now I know that that is a pretty special place to be.

I don’t want to make the same mistake that I did going into 2008, I don’t want to expect too much from 2009.  It’s just a year afterall.  It’s just a time frame.  So rather, as I look forward on the path to my happiness, I want to say that I hope and pray that 2009 reveals many blessings to us all – in whatever shape or format that may be. 

And if that happens to include a real live baby or healthy pregnancy?  Cheers to that!

Merry Christmas!

Cliff and I wish each and everyone of you in Blogland a very Merry Christmas! 

Jingle Bells, Christmas Smells…

…. Sam needs to run away, not a gift is in sight, maybe today! Hey!

Seriously though, I am at my MOST disorganised I have ever been at this time of year.  I *love* Christmas.  I love that it gives me a chance to celebrate the birth of my Saviour, I love that it gives me time to spend time with my family and friends, I love it!  BUT this year I have not been able to get my ass into gear – at all.  Here we sit – two (2!!!) measly days before the big event and I have not bought one (1!!!!) Christmas present.  *sigh* 

And as much as I know I *have* to get it done today or it’s tickets for me, I am *so* not in the mood.  At least I managed to get my a into g enough to put up the Christmas tree.  That’s gotta count for something right?

I was in a bummed mood yesterday as well.  Not something I allow myself to wallow in for long and today I’m feeling much better, but I have to share the wallow.  Every year a RL friend of mine has a Christmas braai.  Last year at the braai we met her friends Claire and Paul who had been battling to fall pregnant.  They had 2 rounds of clomid and at the braai were happily pregnant.  I remember sitting there thinking – next braai next year that will be *me*. 

But at the braai this year, Claire and Paul were bouncing their 5 month old baby boy on their knee’s and there Cliff and I sat, still no closer to our dream of having a baby.  It hit me like a stream train.  Yet another year lost.  Yet another year where my hopes and dreams were crushed.  Yet another Christmas wishing for a child to share it with.  Yet another party where we are the only childless couple.

But despite myself I still sat there thinking to myself – next year at the next braai – that will be me.

Some things I love about you.

• I love your eyes.  They are really a stunning colour.
• You have HOT legs, in fact I think I fell in love with your legs before I fell in love with *you*.
• I love that you make me tea every morning – even if we’ve had a fight the night before.
• I love that you’re so gentle with our dogs – it shows me what kind of father you’re going to be someday.  A great one btw.
• I love that we can be silly together.
• I love that you’re so freaking scared of bats and moths.  It gives me the giggles.
• You have a great sense of “fair play”.  That’s a great quality to have.
• I love (even though I tease you about it) that you’re a “Mommy’s boy”.  Men who treat their Mother’s well treat their wives well.
• I love that you’re so stable.  Growing up in a mostly unstable household means stability is really important now.
• I love that you’re sticking by me during this infertiltiy rollercoaster ride.  Not all men do.
• I love that you love me – I’m not easy to love a lot of the time.

These are just some of the things I love about you.  You are the best thing that happened to me.  Despite what you might think – you do things right all the time.

I love you.  Mostest.  More than Mostest.  The Most.

Decisions, Decisions

We’ve finally made the big decision. 

Our next fresh IVF will begin in February as soon as AF shows her face (well technically I’ll know exactly when to expect her cos I’m on the pill but you know what I mean).  We were going to do our next treatment in January but realistically it’s just not the right time for us.

I mean I want us to be “doing” something but I’m just not body ready right now.  And by that I mean that I’ve put on 4.5 kgs while on holiday in Plett and I really want to shed that weight before I step onto the IVF treadmill again.  Also I’ve been thinking a lot about how busy the clinic will be in January.  My new boss is probably not going to be as understanding about time out of the office as my last one was and if I have to wait for an hour or so after scanning for meds etc it will take some explaining and honestly, I really don’t want the dickhead guy to know I’m doing IVF.  Then I’m supposed to be taking over the conference centre in January as well – I just felt like I really did not need the added stress and pressure at a time when I’m supposed to be focusing on stimms, retrieval and hopefully implanting embryo’s.  February should be a stable time after the take over and also will still be quiet enough in terms of events booked so that I won’t feel guilty about taking time off when needed. 

Luckily for us we are ready in terms of finances.  We’ve been lucky enough to have been gifted with some money from Cliff’s brother and his wife as well as from my Mom for this next IVF and added to what we’ve already saved we’ve got enough to cover this next IVF and another 3/4 of one if we need it.  We’re going to continue saving where we can (even with the gifted money) so that we’ve got a nice next egg to use when we fall pregnant or if we need to plan our next treatment.

Honestly, I’m a bundle of emotion about this IVF.  I’m excited cos finally we’ll be “doing something” again.  I’m hopeful cos I really want it to work and for our journey to end.  I’m working on being faithful and thankful to God for His will.  I’m terrified I’m going to be faced with another negative.  I’m exceedingly worried about letting our family down again.  I’m anxoius that if it doesn’t work that our family who’ve given us money will feel like we’ve wasted their hard earned cash.  I’m happy cos we just might finally get to be parents.  Thankfully I got to see my therapist last night to talk about all this noise in my head and the advise she gave me was really good – she told me to try and “be in the moment” and to try not focus to much on the “end result” or varying outcomes.   

So that is what I’m trying to do, the decision is made but for now I need to get my Christmas shopping done and wrapped.  That is what this moment calls for.

Taking care of some business

Sorry I’ve been quiet, but we just had a bank holiday here in SA and I took full advantage of it by having myself a nice long weekend   Still no closer to having completed the Christmas shopping but we hope to get that done sometime before Christmas… and yes internets I know I’m running out of time!  ONE WEEK TO CHRISTMAS!!!  I simply cannot believe it!  2008 had literally blasted away.

So back to taking care of the business at hand, while I was on a quiet diet, I was tagged by Babysmiling.

The rules are:
1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Share 7 random and/or weird facts about you.
3. Tag 7 random people at the end, and include links to their blogs.

Right so here we go:

1.   As a kid I used to hang my barbie dolls from a tree and pretend that they had been kidnapped and that the Ken doll had to save them.  I just LOVED the idea of Barbie being this damsel in distress being saved by her knight in shining armour. * dreamy sigh*  Sometimes though the situation would get out of hand and Ken would be too late to save his love and she would be cut down from the tree to fall to her death. (Macabre I know but I loved it)

2.  My absolute worst pet hate is when people call you and have the wrong number and JUST PUT THE PHONE DOWN.  It is NOT going to kill those ass wipes to say a simple “sorry wrong number”.  It really drives me dilly.

3.  In 12 years of schooling I went to 10 different schools.  And when one considers that from half way through Grade 8 (Std 6) to Grade 12 (Matric) I was in one school you can imagine how many times I moved schools while a lightie.  These included a stint at home schooling (not good, not good at all) as well as  a tiny German school where the only subject I passed was English – all the others were taught in German – go figure.

4.  While I worked in Egypt a few years back I came really close to being able to hold conversations with my staff in Arabic.  Tough language to learn.  But just as I was getting the hang of it my visa expired and I had to high tail it out of dodge.

5.  My Dad can wiggle his ears.  I have always wanted to be able to do that.  It would be such entertainment for our future kids (see positive thinking) but alas I did not inherit that wiggle the ear gene.  Strangely neither did my sister or half brother.  Maybe Dad is an alien?

6.  I’m pretty flexible.  Even now with the added padding I’m carrying around I am able to put my leg behind my head from a sitting position.  Great party trick.

7.  I’m also a pretty great burper.  I used to be able to burp “Supercalafragilisticexpialidosious”.  I don’t think I can do that today, but I do know that if you need someone on your side in a burping contest I’m your girl.

I suck at tagging people, so if you’re so inclined, please feel free to tag yourself!  But remember to link back to me so I can read all about your weirdness.  Come on people.  Don’t make me feel weird all on my own

Then!

I was also given an award. 

A pretty special one that was created by Murgdan and given to me by my friend Sharon.  Shaz, thanks for the award.  I know my positivity can be a bit annoying at times – but everyone needs a silver lined ute at some point  in their lives – I’ll always be on hand to flash that sparkly ute for ya.  Love ya too!!!  And consider yourself gifted with this award twice over.

I would like to hand this award over to some special gals too…

Bee Cee – for showing me that determination and grit gets a girl far.  You’re in my thoughts and prayers daily my friend.  I hope with all my heart that you get your deserved prize for all the guts and grit you’ve shown on your journey.

Tam- in the short time we’ve known each other I’ve really come to call you “friend”.  You’re an incredibly strong amazing chicken.  And I thought you should be reminded of that!

Aunt Becky – you make me laugh, and laugh and laugh.  You’re such a cool chick and one day when I’m big – I wanna be cool like you.

Brenda – you’ve been a special source of  steadiness for me in my down times.  Thank you for taking the time to make me feel better even when you’ve been feeling down yourself. 

In fact to each and everyone of you who read this blog and keep me sane.  You are all my sparkly ute’s – so give yourselves a pat on the back and have a glass of wine on me.

So that concludes the business, “proper” post soon I promise!

Treading Water

One of my best childhood memories growing up in this beautiful country of ours, is of the wonderful sunshine and swimming that came along with it.  I remember long lazy days spent baking in the sun, then dashing off to jump into the pool to feel the icy water cover your head as you tried to bomb dive anyone close to the pool’s edge. 

 We would swim and swim and swim.  We’d  play “Marco Polo” (sometimes even jumping out the pool and running a few steps and diving back in to ensure we weren’t caught even though we knew it was “against the rules”).  We’d have competitions to see how could hold their breath underwater the longest.  We’d play some silly game similar to charades where we’d have to act out a play underwater and have the other perosn guess what we were up to.  We do handstands, backwards and forwards bollamakissies (rolly polly’s), dance, scream underwater, race, float – in fact we’d do just about anything humanly possible to do in a swimming pool as long as it meant we were wet and having fun.

We’d jump out the pool at regular intervals and lie on the hot bricks (my mom used to freak out cos we’d mess up our cozzies but having a towel between your body and the bricks was just.not.the.same.) on the pool side and get ourselves ready for the next onslaught of fun in the water. 

Still to this day, when I swim I find myself doing some of what I did as a kid – lots of play and keeping busy.  The one thing I never quite “got” when it came to time in the pool was treading water.  I can do it and I can do it well but it used to frustrate me to no end.  I mean you are working hard under the water to look as if you are not working hard to keep your head above water.  It is hard work.  And if you do it for long enough it tires you the heck out.  In fact my dad used to suggest treading water competitions to see who could do it for the longest and I used to get so pissed off with it that I would just give up – cos honestly?  Where the heck was the fun in kicking and kicking and kicking underwater to stay afloat and in one place.  ‘Give me some action” I’d want to scream – let me swim fast and hard, let me try to lengths underwater with one breath – anything that meant I would actually have to MOVE and DO SOMETHING.

In many respects I’ve been likening our ttc break to treading water.  It feels like we’re working hard towards something but we’re not involved in any *real* action.  Yes we’re planning, yes we’re saving, yes we’re supposed to be trying to get our bodies in the best possible shape, yes we’re on the pill keeping my ovaries nicely quiet – BUT THERE’S NO ACTION GOING DOWN!  Whilst I was in the thick of our fresh and then frozen cycles, I felt like we were actively moving towards our dream of becoming parents.  We were in full action mode – get up early, drive to clinic, slip of panties, pop on bed, scan, yeeha follies, inject some shit into my body, feel ovaries aching.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  Retrieval, transfer, 2ww, bleed. Try to cry.  Plan again.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  But we were DOING.

This break has been one of the longest we’ve had since starting this journey over 4 and a bit years ago.  I *know* my mind needed it.  I *know* my marriage needed it.  But I feel like I’m wasting precious energy treading infertility water that could have been spent in action…

As we swim closer to deciding as to when exactly we start our next fresh IVF cycle, I have to wonder if all the “treading of water” whilst on this break will have made me stronger, better and more likely to achieve my dream.

One has to have faith in that, and the hope has to burn bright.  Otherwise, what the heck is the point right?  At least I’ll feel like we’re moving in that water and getting some action. 

 

Pop A Bat Today?

For the last couple of evenings we I have had to deal with bats flying into our house.  We’veI’ve never had this issue before as the little critters normally tend to stay outside where they belong but the for the last couple of evenings their radar sense thingi must have been switched off cos they have been entering our patio door and flying around the house.

Picture the scene.  Sam & Cliff sitting on the couch with Jazzy the killer jack russel on one of their laps.  Drinking a glass of wino, and watching some crap on TV when suddenly Bart the bat decides to pop in for a visit.   Bart swoops over our heads over and over and my dear husband (the man of the relationship) squeals like a girl and orders me to attend to the problem (this growing up in the bush crap has gone far enough cos darn why should *I* have to deal with Bart *just* cos I grew up in the bush??).  Anyway after Bart bomb dives us a few times he finally lands on the ledge of our picture window and I get a tea towel, throw it over him, gingerly pick him up and toss him outside in the dark where he belongs.

Sit back down, sip some wine, tease Cliff about being such a girl and WHAM, Bart comes back inside WITH A FRIEND, Betty.  Replay the scene above with Cliff squealing like a girl – the killer jack russel trying to jump up and catch Bart & Betty to eat them alive and me trying to get the little shits to land somewhere safe so I can toss the tea towl and grab them and let them out the house.  Finally we got Bart and Betty to realise that they really were not welcome in our house (and closed the door firmly behind them to keep the gatecrashers out).

So the next night – Bart the little shit decides that *he’s* not being kicked out of our nice pad and – fwoops - flies back into the house while I’m cooking dinner.   Cue girly screaming and squealing.  I rush out the kitchen to see Bart fly into our bedroom (#E$#$##$#@@%%^##!!!).  I rush up the stairs, close the curtain to stop him from from flying back downstairs.  After Bart dive bombing me for 20 minutes and me ducking and diving flapping the tea towel in his flight path to get him to land somewhere, he decided to land on our curtain rail, so I tried to grab him with the tea towel and – fwoops - off he went again.  Another 20 minutes later he landed on the other curtain rail behind the rail.  I tried to get the tea towel behind him to grab him and next thing I heard was “Hiiiiisssssss, and POP!”  I pooped in my pants (not really) and dropped the bat on the floor in fright.

Once we got the killer jack russel away from it, we saw that in my desperation to grab Bart with the tea towel I inadvertendly popped him!  Crap a doodle!  Poor Bart got flushed down our loo… I felt SO bad… and our penance for the evening was eating a slightly scortched spaghetti bolognaise for dinner…

Needless to say that as soon as the sun went down last night our door was closed to stop Betty and her mates from coming inside to get revenge on us!  Can you imagine what scale of war they would have waged on me for murdering their mate?

He came acroppa!

You remember the bike saga?  The one where I nicely told my dear husband that if he did not use his expensive toy that I would gladly shove it where the sun don’t shine?  Well he’s held up his side of the bargain – he’s been using the bike quite nicely.  In fact he’s even met a mate of his a few weekends to go for a proper mountain bike ride at a venue close by our house.  On Sunday the poor boy came acroppa!

He fell off the bike and he is now the proud owner of a nice roastie on his arm, a nice bruise on his leg but the piece da resistance is a hell of a bruise on his butt.  It looks pretty nasty!  I never thought I would post a picture of my husband’s butt on this here humble blog – but crikey chaps!  It is N A S T Y! 

Check it out!