Saturday, 23 February 2008



Yep. You betcha. Got the call at 4 in the arvo to say they did the testing on the 3 little embies (it's starting to sound like a nursery tale) and one was NAD. That means no abnormalities detected. Which means it can live! It has the same chance as any little embie going into a body of growing big. So by 4.3o and after a mad drive into the city it was done, or, I should say, in.

We waved at it on the screen and welcomed it to my uterus.

Now the 10 day wait (it was a day 6 transfer). But I can't believe we made it this far.

We may even have a 2nd emby in the freeze - well it has been frozen but when they did the testing, 2 of the cells showed that it was normal and one of the cells did not take the dye which shows up the particular chromosomes we are looking at. So they are trying to look at it again on monday. They have frozen it because there is a good chance it is normal.

The 3rd one sadly, we say goodbye to. If it grew inside me it would be like Maya, beautiful, but not bound for this earth,

I can't believe how good it feels to have good news instead of crap.


Click heels together.

I know you are thinking that I shouldn't be celebrating yet........ after all, I have only just started the wait, but join with me. It is a miracle to get this far. I will deal with the future when it arrives.

May it also be good.

Tuesday, 19 February 2008


On friday I am not going to work.

On friday I find out if there are any healthy embies to put back inside me.

On friday my neighbour is booked in for a c-section.

There are only 3 embies still going strong..... do you think one of them might be able to grow into a little baby in me arms?

Wednesday, 13 February 2008


now this makes me happy.

Monday, 11 February 2008

Update (or is it down)

So first with the good news.

My dog's paw is better. He's not quite his handsome self due to a rather large and pinkish scar on his leg - not to mention the shaved bits that haven't grown back, but all in all he seems to be returning to his doggy self. And our walks have become the usual mixture of delight and apolgetic shuffling on (he tends to get a bit snappy at certain dogs despite my best behaviour management strategies).

So dog is on the mend. First box ticked.

My dear hubby who was so unjustly fired will finish work this week. I am very proud of him as he has made the transition from righteous outrage (justified I might add) to forward looking job seeker without sinking into a trough of negativity and depression which would probably have been my option if I had gone through that. I forget that he is stronger then I think he is. I just hope that the union lawyers kick ass. I would like to see the evil people who made this decision SQUIRM. In an act of self preservation and solidarity another member of staff is leaving on the same day. For a team of 5 it now looks a bit on the nose to have 3 positions unfilled.

I'm on Day 11 of FSH and looking to be going for a few more days. Did i mention how shit my body is at responding to hormones? I am questioning why my doc did not put me on a big mamma dose of hormones. I think he is kinda conservative. I bet none of his patients ever get whatever it is you get when you're overstimulated. Anyway, not only am i responding slowly i seem to be responding poorly (for me). I've seen enough ultrasounds to know something and despite the cheesy smiles of the sonographer I know that there are a lot less eggs then last time. It feels like my body is rather unimpressed with this whole business and has decided not to cooperate any longer. I used to be the best at giving blood - but now, my little old veins give a polite "no thanks" before being held at needle point and forced into giving up their luscious flow. They bruise in protest. And my ovaries, no matter how much singing and patting, kissing (my hubby does that one - too hard for me) and coaxing, just don't seem to want to give up too many precious little eggs. I confess I have unjustly thought violent thoughts towards my ovaries after former failed cycles but I was hoping that they would be a little more forgiving.

I've noticed that it only takes me hours to detach myself from myself and speak in the third person about the me that was on the bed weeping and begging heaven to have mercy just a few hours ago. As if it was a long time ago. The old me in a different time and place. Who am I kidding?

I'm kind of sick of feeling like a dead weight around people. My friend returned from a conference in NZ yesterday and I have, in truth, not been doing all that well. I rang her up to see if she wanted to go for a walk.. and she said yes because she knows that I have not been doing all that well and then rang back and asked to postpone it as really what she needs is to sleep after being away for a long time. The only thing that bothers me in this interaction is the thought that people might feel like they need to give to me all the time..... even though I feel so desperately needy all the time...... I don't want to be a person that requires "energy" to be around. So I try and section off not-coping me and do this weird thing of talking about those times or moments as if it is another person. As if I had a really close front row seat of watching someone else go through excruciating pain and confusion. Which in a weird way is what I want. I WANT SOMEONE TO KNOW. Not just that I am having a bad Sunday but that Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday weren't very different. That even in my sleep I can't escape this because it occupies my dreams.

I dreamt I was holding a dead baby and then the babies face turned into Maya's face and I gave her mouth to mouth and she came back to life.

That one was a nice one.

I have started going to a church. I like this church. It has a lot of tradition and does a sung communion each week. I like this because there is a lot of beauty in it and I like the physicality of participating in communion. Of being on your knees, holding out your hand. Of receiving the gift of the sacraments. Of singing a response which is both haunting and uplifting.

But I loose it most weeks. It is a space where it is OK to loose it. I am sure I have cried my tears into the communal cup which is a nice metaphor in a way...... last week I lost it quite badly as my friend arrived with her new little baby girl. The one I have talked about previously. It really really does hurt to be around and no matter what self talk I use it remains a heartbreaking experience to watch someone else be a proud mum for the first time and think that the time I held my little girl in front of others was after her death. In fact, I don't even think. I. Just. Cry. and feel that deep ache inside my chest which has not really changed with time....

I am loosing hope for this cycle. It seems easier to give up hope now then to try and fan it back to life and then have a bucket of water thrown over it when I get my BFN.

Ain't that a sad thing.

post script

I just spoke to the friend who was in New Zealand and did not speak about myself in the third person rather just broke down and unapologetically hogged the space until I was in a place to stop and listen to her and how her trip was. Later I said I was looking forward to being in a place where I wasn't so needy all the time. She assured me that that was not how she saw our friendship at all.... which was nice to hear. I think I believe her.

Friday, 1 February 2008

Simply smashing

Sometimes I wish I was Greek. Then maybe I wouldn't feel so goofy about smashing crockery. I was angry today, and thought "I'll smash some plates" which seemed a very satisfying thought and much more productive then anger turned in on myself (you know the thoughts "i think I'll smash me"). So. Smashing plates....... but sadly I've missed the boat. The impulse has left and all my crockery is still in tact. I was lying on the couch you see, but my husband was home and I was too embarassed to do it in front of him. Then I started planning.... we live kinda close to our neighbours so I'd have to shut the doors and windows. Then I would need to shut the dog away so he didn't hurt his injured paw further, wear some flip flops, find the crappy crockery (I mean I'd regret it if I smashed Nanna's plates), and find a corner that was easy to clean up. It all seemed too much for someone who couldn't manage to peel herself off the couch. So I just stayed there and cried instead.

But in a similar (less violent) messiness. I did sensory play at school with my little autistic friends. "Sensory Play" is the name we give it to make it sound legit. It involved covering one desk in shaving cream and putting marbles in it, putting out a big bucket of rice with toys in it, putting out a big bucket of soapy water with toys in it, covering the floor of a corner of the room in packing filler (you know those little styrophoam bits), putting out a foot spa, and putting out a tray of tiny shells to run their hands through. It was great. This kid just went up to the massive pile of shaving cream and scooped up a handful and rubbed it all over his uniform and then all through his hair and over his face. He he heeeee. I know how to give kids a fun time. Another one just stuck his hands in the rice and started chucking it about. He liked it falling on his head and watching it bounce on the floor.

As you can imagine the room was a little messy when we were finished. But that is why we pay for cleaners. The kids were very happy, and once the froth had settled, they were quite calm too.

I am angry because my friend (the one who had preeclampsia in the last post - delay in the induction) just had a baby girl in the hospital I had my baby girl in. How can it not hurt?

Tomorrow I am doing this - without the extras of a clairvoyant and Rob Dekota. It looks a bit tacky but truly, you haven't seen Pittwater. It's amazing, and sitting on the deck of a boat looking at that scenery can only ever be uplifting. And I think swimming in the boom net could be fun. (yes. I have just learned how to link other sites)

Tomorrow is Day 2 of FSH.

mmmm......... I wonder.