Full Brazilian Wax

My poor Ma

Shame my poor Mom has a HUGE swollen and tender ankle. 

On Saturday we went out to Hartebeespoort Dam for lunch and it seems that she ended up with a dodgy tummy after that and was sick most of Saturday evening.  She then got up and went to church with my sister and niece and then went shopping for the week.

At the shops she saw that the SANBS was at the mall and decided to give blood (BEEEG mistake!)  Well she gave blood (don’t think they can even use it if she was sicky the night before?) and all was fine until she and my sister walked away and she fainted in the lift!  My sister pooped in her broek and my niece nearly had a heart failure…. and poor Ma – she twisted her ankle as she passed out.

Poor thing!  Hope she feels better soon.

It’s really not so nice

I’m a potty mouth.  I like to swear.  I really believe that at times there is nothing quite like a well timed, well uttered expeletive.

But honestly?  It’s really not that nice to hear too much swearing from a woman’s mouth.  So I’m really doing my best not to swear too much.  And it is working – well most of the time.

At times other than most – um not so much.

But I am getting better.  I don’t think that I’ll ever give swearing up completely – cos hello, sometimes “FUCK!” or “SHIT!” is the only right response to something, but I will ensure I cut down.  Drastically.

Cos I just don’t want people to think that cos potty mouth is not nicem, that by association I’m not nice.

Awesome!!

A while back I won a blog contest, I was SO excited cos I never win anything.  Even when the one time I was the holder of two of the only three raffle tickets at a school fete.  Yes believe it the other person (who only had one ticket!!!) won!

And boy can I just say that when I win I win BEEEEG!  Sassy sent me a box.

And then I opened the box!  WOW!  I got a wonderful taste of Australia from her – take a look at this!!!

(I love the Curly Wurly – considering my maiden name is Curley )) )

AND I got an apron and oven glove for when I make the white mud pie thingi (assume it’s a cake cos that’s Sassy’s speciality!)

WHAT A HAUL!  THANK YOU SO MUCH SASSY

What’s in a name?

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers for my Dad.  Right now we’re not sure of anything.  Because he is so far away, information is extremely sketchy from him about his diagnosis.  We know after his visit to SA he was hospitalised for 6 – 8 days (he told me 6, he told my sister 8 and my mom a short while).  We know he has had bone marrow taken for testing (sorry if I’m not using the correct term here, this is all new to me…). According to him those tests were inconclusive (anyone know if he’s talking nonsense here so that he does not scare us?) and he has had a second lot taken for further testing.  Once I know what the deal is, believe me I’ll be venting sharing here.

Right so onto the point of this post – what’s in a name?  We’re in the thick of ICLW (and if you’re not – why on earth not?  Sign up for next month) and I’ve been reading a lot of new blogs and leaving comments all over the place and I’ve been noticing some really cool blog names.  Many names are based on what people believe, or are based on the fact that they’re travelling the IF road, or it’s their family name and so on and so forth.  Some are creative, some have negative connotations, some have positve connotations and some even include my favourite words (rainbow, fart ).

I decided to choose “Communique” as my blog name, cos I felt like I needed to have this outlet be more than just about my battle to conceive.  I needed it to be an extension of the way I communicate with people.  Hence the name.

So blog buddies – spill, what made you decide on the name you gave your blog?  How did your blog name come into creation?

His Grace

When I was a littlie our family used to go to church often, we went to a charismatic church and I grew up believing that Jesus died on the cross for me and that He had washed my sin away. 

As we got older and moved more and more (12 schools in 12 years of schooling – nuff said) we lost a lot of our faith as a family.  We all believed in God and Jesus but we were not good at practisign what we believed in.  My father was in a dangerous profession and thankfully he always made it home in one piece, time after time after time. 

We grew up and flew the coop but still did not practice our beliefs.  I got married and my Dad did a brief stint in Iraq working for a security company and had two VERY VERY close calls while over there (maybe one day I’ll blog about them).  Two years after my wedding my folks split up.  It was sudden (although in hindsight it probably was not that big a shock) and rocked our family to the core.  My Mom and sister went back to church and re-affirmed their lives to the Lord.  I went along one Sunday and also re-affirmed my life to the Lord.

All the while my father kept saying how he believed in God but would not ever set foot in a church again.  He recently moved to the UK and ended up in Whales and has not been well at all of late.  In fact the doctors there suspect that he has leukemia. (I’m freaking out for him! He’s all alone there guys – with nobody to look after him at all)

Recently my Mom has been councelling him to seek out the Lord cos we never know when our time is coming.  She has not been pushing him but she has been coaxing him to think about it before it’s too late.  Yesterday she got a text from my father asking her if she knew of a church like ours in Whales.  Coming from someone who has not set foot in a church at all for well over 30 years – this is just HUGE.  I cannot be more grateful to God for His grace in this situation.  My Dad probably does not have much longer on this earth (please God he gets to meet my children before he leaves us).  I would be devastated to think that he’s passed without giving his life to the Lord.

I’m so hopeful that he’s asked to go to church.  At least then I’ll know that if the worst comes to the worst he won’t be alone.  And that makes me feel so much better, it makes me feel that we’ll be able to handle whatever it is that is wrong with him.

8 Already

Today my niece turns eight years old.  It’s amazing how quickly time flies.  Eight years ago I was a hung over wreck visting my sister and her baby in hospital and today that little being is a bright, vivacious, sometimes precocious, wonderful, talented young woman little girl.

I often think about what a great job my sister has done with her (my sister is a single mom after she threw her trash talking fiance out after finding out he cheated on her all through her pregnancy a week after their daughter was born).  She’s well mannered and while she pushes boudaries all the time which frustrates me no end, I have to admit that probably all kids do this at some point in their lives. (And probably more often than not!)

I asked her what she wanted for her birthday and she told me “a cousin” and how I wish that I was making that gift a reality right now.  But the fact is that I’m not so her new bike helmet, bike bling and clothes will have to do in the mean time.

Happy Birthday child of my heart – Aunty Sam loves you lots and lots.

Contagious?

There are many stigma’s attached to admitting that you’re infertile.  But for me I think the worst stigma is the one where people think that you’re contagious and they avoid you for fear of catching it from you.

Initially we were very quiet about the fact that we were trying to conceive.  We only told those closest to us – that being my Mom and sister and my two closest friends.  But as the time went by and we realised just how big a challenge conceiving was becoming, we started being more open about our journey.  We started trying before any of our friends did, in fact we started about a year ahead of everyone else.  And now we’re the only couple in our circle of “fertile” friends to still be trying for baby # 1.  Of all the couples we hung out with at the beginning of our journey, we’re the only childless ones. 

As we’ve graduated from clomid, to AI’s to IUI’s to IVF we’ve told these people about our journey.  We’ve shared what we’ve been through and when people ask we like to think that through us they’re learning about something that they would never have imagined.  This openess definitley has a downside.  I’ve seen many a pitiful look in their eyes when we talk about it.  I’ve seen them take (sometimes physical) small almost imperceptible steps back from us – just in case they catch it.  Just in case by hanging out with us they also battle for their next baby.

I’ve seen this in the cyber world too.  You reconnect with someone on Facebook.  They ask if you have kids.  You say no and add glibly ”unless you count my dogs of coursem, they’re my kids for now” (Word for the non wise - this is code for I’m battling to have human kids… at least it is 9 times out of 10, trust me).  They comment on how long you’ve been married and ask why not.  You tell them the truth.  And poof just like that, the reconnecting becomes a quick disconnection again.  Cos they do not want to be tarnished with the anguish of infertility.

How sometimes people actually state how they’re so happy that they aren’t like you.  That it was easy for them to have their two children.  How they would hate to not be able to have kids (with a look of abject disgust pity on their faces at the thought).  How they look at each other and think secretly “Thank God its them and not us”.  How when you talk about child rearing you get told “what do you know, you don’t have any kids anyway”.

And while I know that many of these people do not know how to deal with the reality of infertility, while I know that they say glib things to hide how uncomfortable we make them feel, while I know that they mean well when they offer platitudes cos it’s all they know how, I have to wonder if just a teeny part of them wonders if we could infect them with our “disease”.

And if it’s this fear that keeps them from having us over to their homes as often as they used to.  If it’s this fear that makes them ask other friends about our journey behind our backs.  As if asking us directly could make them like us.

Sometimes I just wonder if it’s me that’s pulled back from them cos we are in different places in our lives?  Or if it *is* as my mind see’s it and that its them who have pulled back cos they pity us and see us as contagious.

I wonder.  All the time.

He’s Fine :)

The procedure was fine, all done and dusted by 14h00.  Cliff is doing well, has a little bit of pain but is good. (Thank God!)

I’m peeved.  Not at my dear hubby, but at the urologist who did the procedure for him.  The dude did not even bother to pop his head round my hubby’s bed after the procedure to make sure he was ok.  We now have to schedule an appointment (surely if a follow up is required you schedule one as standard when confirming the procedure and inform your patient of said appointment date and time?) at an additional consulation fee cost to us to find out what if anything they found while hubs was under.  And that annoys me.

Cos now we’re left in limbo.  Is everything fine, is there something serious going down in there?  I’m assuming (as hubs is) that if it were something serious that the doc would have seen him sooner rather than later, and that is what we’re sticking with for now.  Until we can get him an appointment.  Then we’ll know for sure.

Man Down

My poor hubby is going to be ‘man down” today. 

A few months ago he discovered that he was having trouble passing urine.  No biggie right – a quick and costly visit to the urologist later, he came home armed with many many antibiotics and a three month course of mootie to fight was diagnosed as a bacterial infection of the prostate.  Very common in men his age.  Nothing to worry about at all.

Until two and a bit months into it all, the problem came back.  Another quick and costly visit to the urologist became the reason why he is man down today.  I dropped him at the hospital (and made sure he was comfy and looking hot in his hospital gown) to have a cystoscopy today.  A scope up his penis.  To check if he is ok inside.  And a possible prostate massage while under as well.

While I mocked him initially and said it was about time he knew what all the probing and scanning and operations felt like (hello dildo cam anyone? laparoscopy x 3 anyone? etc etc etc) he really was quite nervous for the procedure this morning.

We hope there is nothign major happening inside his broken penis.  We hope that is it somethign as simple as a blocked urethra.

If you have time, spare a thought or prayer for my dear hubby who is right now man down on an operating table finding out if his broken penis can get fixed.