sOmEThiNg oTHer tHAn BAbiEs

Guilty! - like I just used the last slice of bread to make a fascinator for the cat!  

I always vowed that I would not be like 'others' who had just had a baby and suddenly either disappeared off the face of the earth, or persistently talked only about their baby to the point where I wished they would. 

I now of course have had to eat my words, along with "My baby will not be needing a pacifier/bottle/formula" and "I will be able to let my baby cry it out" and "I won't be co-sleeping with my baby just because she won't go to sleep in her crib".

I have become like every new mother out there, obsessed and devoted; my Facebook page a shrine to my 'delicious' baby. 

I blame the sleeplessness.

... Party until 6 am, then get up at 7am, work for 18 hours with a tiny human being attached to your breast and then repeat over the next 144 hrs and you'll be getting close to the lack of sleep you are going to experience in the first week of a new baby. I'm guessing that over the next 2-36 months you will learn to let go of sleep all together. I have. 

So just short of becoming a crazed insomniac, you'll also find yourself being a paranoid git, worrying that your baby may be unwell, unhappy, under-developed, distressed, too hot, too cold or starving, and your natural instincts over-ride any rational conversation regarding anything but your baby. Parenthood creates 'baby blinkers' to make sure that you are never invited to a social gathering ever again.

So I'm going to have a day of 'baby silence' in remembrance to the life I used to have. Lest I forget.

And it turns out that you can't put them back in and/or take them back to the fertility clinic; not that I've given any thought to that or anything *Wink!

loNg tiME No bLOg

This is the face of a new mother.

Note that the blood has not yet returned to the face since the shock of the birth.

There is the faint hint of triumph in the eyes having finally managed to get baby down to sleep, yet fear and trepidation should baby awake before her time, and yet no notion of it in the emotionless and humourless expression.

A fresh and old vomit stain is not evident in this portrait but does surely exist somewhere on the torso, and likely down the front.

The hair is unruly and slept on for 3 days, never having seen a brush in this entire time.

Facial features have aged dramatically in just 4 and a half months and show no signs of slowing down anytime soon.

Articles of clothing are reduced to comfort only and their usage extended over as many days as they manage to avoid excess of vomit, drool or faeces, as laundry is reserved exclusively for babies clothing and bibs now.

Bags under both eyes are suggestive of at least 3 night time feeds still, the last of which was likely resulting in a co-sleeping compromise; a white flag so to speak.

There is feeding paraphernalia to the right of the screen, evidence of the monotony of this new mothers existence. A used bib suggests that a 'feeding' has just taken place.

It is uncertain from this picture as to the degree of baby apparel that is lying in vast quantities at the foot of the new mother, but the rigid and unmoving stature suggests that it may not be advantageous to move around more than is absolutely necessary.

Every waking hour (and there is at least 23 of them in a 24 hour period) is a tripping hazard and danger trap waiting to happen.

The urge to urinate has come and gone three times prior to 9am, relief only coming once the baby is in a solid state of REM sleep, and post the first 2 evident sleep cycle patterns.

Constipation is a form of survival as there simply is not the time to nourish or hydrate therefore diminishing the need to defecate. A consequence or reaction to this fact is the 'rigid' or 'pole-stuck-up-arse' appearance upon the strained face of the new mother, often confused by the male mate as arrogance or restrained aggression.

Social acceptance is now null and void, until such time as the new mother proves herself to peers and opinionated strangers in the street.

Confidence is replaced with awkwardness.

Happiness is an emotion that the woman can now only experience whilst she is asleep for the one hour that was previously mentioned.

To conclude today's theory lesson, it is interesting to note that this extreme self esteem destroying ritual continues to rapidly spread like a virus throughout the female population, some even choosing to be mechanically projected into this way of life through artificial insemination.

There is no cure. 

Symptoms may be treated with alcohol on occasion and certainly not while breastfeeding...(clink)

If symptoms persist...

Welcome to Motherhood!   

       

    

bE CaRefUL WHaT yOU WisH fOr

Written some months ago...

So we still want to be parents. And we are still waiting to become parents. 
I can say that we have been successful with our second IVF round, just how successful is yet to be determined. 
I have not felt up to blogging while going through the process of IVF as it is draining and a pain in the butt to say the least. Only other people who have gone through IVF will understand and sorry to those who try to understand but will never be able to; it's just the way it is. 
For those who say that IVF is 'a journey' I say...what kind of holidays are you taking these days?! One that involves a multitude of drugs, which are not only taken orally and subcutaneously, but also vaginally (as if there's not enough going on with your vagina with IVF without having to feed it hormones as well). Then there's the procedures which involve probes, K-Y jelly and 15 inch needles - who would sign up for that? 
It's no holiday, that much is certain. To do it all twice is just insane. But we desperately want to have a baby so we keep doing what the Fertility Doctors tell us to do. 
After so much waiting, grieving, frustration and discomfort I can report that my sense of humour has suffered as a result. My sarcasm is my life-line. 
I felt I should try to blog again, despite the laziness that I so obviously feel. I could be best described as being on Auto-Pilot and apparently nobody put in a default blogging setting. 
Mum has spent the last 3 months in a modern day asylum, better described as a Rehab for the mentally ill and where ECT is the programme of choice. Mum's doing really well now and is looking forward to getting back to the Gold Coast. I wish there was more I could do for her, so that she could be there for me. I miss being on the Gold Coast myself but I still can't say I miss being so close to manic Donna. I do miss her however, bizarre as it often seems.
There is so much happening on the 'funny farm' that I can't be arsed going into it all. I'll try to blog more often in the near future and back track some of the more hilariously depressing situations that my husband and I have endured in the past year or so. Get you all up to date so to speak. 
Until then, keep your fingers crossed for us - we only need to make it to the end of March, get through the ordeal of labour and birth, and then try to survive the next 60 years forking out for educations and technology devices. Sounds easy enough... What's the catch?! 
     

vAGinA! WHeReFOre aRT tHOu

I am 30 weeks pregnant and I have lost my vagina. 

I last saw my vagina about 6 weeks ago, I had to strain but I could just make out her silhouette and thought she was just taking a nap. The next day I got up early and noticed she wasn't there at all; I presumed she had gone out for a stroll, but she never came home.

I asked my husband if he had seen my vagina but he said he hadn't, not for a while. 

So I am waiting now, for my vagina to return. 

iVF bABy bLUeS; pARt 2

1 cycle.

1 blastocyst.

1 chance.

1 positive blood test.

1 baby on the way!

So much has happened, it would be unfair to try to squeeze it all into one blog. Instead let's just cut straight to the good stuff...We're going to have a baby! Finally.

Everyday I send happy vibes to our little embryo who is obviously a quiet achiever because I certainly don't feel pregnant...yet.

All we wish for is a highly successful and handsome child who can afford to jet set his adoring parents around the world in their retirement; and also that he/she is healthy with 8 fingers, 2 thumbs and 10 toes. No pressure.

I am happy. Justin is happy; although he did make the comment under his breath.."You've got what you wanted, now be quiet". So I am happy and being quiet.

More waiting now (it never really ends), to see if we can get through the 1st trimester, then the 2nd and then finally the grand finale...the arrival. Wish us luck.

  ~ Update: Unfortunately on the 12/12/12 we found out that our beautiful little embryo, who had yet to experience a heart beating, was no longer viable. This has been soul destroying for me and devastatingly frustrating for Justin who has to pick up my shattered pieces yet again. 
   ~ IVF cycle 2 should begin in May 2013. More waiting. 
    

iVf baBY BLueS

Justin and I arrived in New Zealand on the 31st March 2010. We enrolled with a GP and began to investigate our fertility in greater depth; following on from our Aussie GP's investigations. I have had to document my cycle and temperature every day, I often make up the temperatures as I can't always be bothered. 

A routine laparoscopy uncovered some obvious damage to my fallopian tubes and a follow-up hysterosalpingiogram confirmed that due to severe scaring both my fallopian tubes were rendered completely useless. Follicles (eggs) unable to unite with sperm; end of story. 

We finally made it on to the IVF waiting list in 2011 and began waiting. 

Our first official IVF appointment was scheduled for the first day of my period in August 2012, and this month has been seared into the back of my head ever since it was organised earlier this year. 

I came back from 4 months in Aussie working two midwifery contracts and started getting excited about our first appointment. I have a volume of paperwork detailing my cycles and daily temperatures. 

I hadn't received a reminder phone call and so I decided to give the clinic in Palmerston North a call to see if there was anything else we needed to bring with us. I was told that there 'was no appointment for the next day' and that 'although the Dr would be in the clinic he wasn't actually seeing any clients', so there must have been some confusion. It turns out that the clinic had tried to call me on my NZ mobile while I was in Australia and my phone was not in use. They were aware I was in Australia and they had our home number but if they did ring this they didn't leave a message and couldn't leave a message due to privacy anyway. Justin would have been out on the farm all day everyday. Because they decided they couldn't get in contact with me they pushed our appointment date back to December. 

Apart from feeling like crying, I also felt bad for Justin because he had painstakingly organised to have the day off work and have a relaxing day in Palmy. 

The receptionist advised that I should ring the Fertility Associates in Wellington and see what they could do for us. 

I explained my dilemma to the big wigs in the capital city of New Zealand and they were sympathetic and offered us an appointment for the same day as the original appointment but we would have to go to Wellington instead of Palmerston. We agreed. Petrol money was the least of our concerns. 

So after having our bloods taken we drove to Wellington the next day and had lunch with Justin's brother before making our way to the Fertility Associates building.

Justin had to give his first official on-the-spot sample. This was a really flash building (let's face it, there's a lot of money exchanging hands in the pursuit of happy families) and so this was a bit daunting and a lot scary for Justin. 

My first mistake was that I presumed we would be waiting for at least 10 or 15 mins, and that they really only needed Justin for this sample anyway; so I opportunistically went to the toilet. When I came back, Justin was wringing his hands together and said "Come on, they're waiting for us! Why did you have to go to the toilet?!"...I was like, "Well what do they need me for anyway?"

So we went in through the doors and a slightly embarrassed looking technician went through the rules of the game and gave Justin a sample pot and then ushered us both into a private room and told us as a parting gesture to make sure we locked the door behind us. 

I was instantly confused. Is this how it is now days. This doesn't seem right at all. Justin and I just looked at each other and I started chuckling nervously. Justin however looked as though his whole world was about to end, and I read his expression as "Well why the fuck are you in here?"...I just shrugged with amusement. 

The room was a cosy 3 by 2 with a sophisticated couch, bedside table and a closed in toilet off to the left. 

Justin surveyed the room with down cast eyes and a look that suggested Armageddon was coming. I was still grinning and wondering what part I was going to have to play, if any. 

The bedside table housed 4 very used adult magazines. Two were soft porn with fake girls and their fake bits, the other two were for homosexual men. Justin turned pale. I was really beginning to feel sorry for him now. So I tried to make him feel better; I said "Come on, you're good at this. This is your forte. You'll be right. Stop being a sook!" He grabbed the soft porn and went into the toilet and shut the door. 

I was just sitting there, feeling awkward, listening to the pages of the magazine being frustratingly flicked through (clearly not having a great effect). 

I took the time to research the world of homosexual men and was interested to discover that their magazines were actually not soft porn. I was impressed. 

After 15 long, painful minutes, Justin emerged and spat at me "I can't do this!" 

I looked at him. 

Panic washed over me. We have already been in here for at least 20 minutes already (what's the norm here? Will we be weird if this isn't done and dusted within an acceptable time frame? Am I actually going to have to help out? And what does that mean exactly?). So much to think about. This was so unfair. When I have to have internal ultrasounds and pap smears Justin doesn't even have to hold my hand - why the fack was this happening to me? So I did what any decent wife would do in this situation...

I said "Oh stop being so ridiculous and get on with it! You are going to make us look like idiots. What's the problem? You are able to wank every other day of the week and then some, and now you get cold feet". 

He just looked at me with a look that said he was about to flee the scene. I am a nurse. I recognised the flight or fight response, Justin was like a deer caught in the headlights. I could tell he was losing the will to live. 

So I tried to take control. Or at least I pretended to do so. I thought, how hard can this be for a married couple who have been intimately involved for over 12 years. We aren't exactly into public sexing but this was legal, expected even. 

So I said "Sit down you big baby you and I'll help you out then if I have to"...I'm sure there's a fertility book out there that would explain to wives how to have more tact in these moments but clearly I haven't read that book, so Justin was just going to have to suffer through this a bit more. 

I shook out the draw-sheet which was purposefully left folded at the end of the couch and told Justin to sit down. He was looking green now. This was so freaking ridiculous. I was going to have to do everything if we were going to ever get pregnant. I could hardly contain my frustration. 

I kneeled down, placed my hands on Justin's knees, looked up into his woeful, pitiful face and then I burst out laughing. I'm sure that people waiting down the corridor would have heard me. I couldn't help it I swear. Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was just such a stupid situation to find ourselves in. Why was I even there?!

I apologised to Justin as best as I could while still laughing uncontrollably. Surely he would see the funny side and have a laugh too and then we would make sweet, sweet love and produce a fine and magnificent sample of the highest grade. But Justin didn't see the funny side and he said "Why are you even here?!"

This just made it even funnier to me and I was a lost cause now. I had to leave. Justin was happy to close and lock the door behind me as I walked shamefully back to the waiting room alone and laughing like an idiot. I had to just hope that the fertility associate staff had seen it all before and nothing surprised them. Maybe they bet money on this kind of thing happening it was so common; who knows, they never let on if they do (very professional). 

I was feeling rather guilty and stifled back my smirking when Justin finally emerged back into the waiting room. I was in trouble, that was certain. 

We went for a stroll and looked at rugs while we waited for our Dr's appointment and to get all our results back. 

Justin got a gold star for his big effort. Clap, Clap. 

The Dr even told him to "put the results on the fridge if he liked they were so good", I just sneered. Another feather in Justin's cap. 

My results were not so good, I didn't get any gold stars and I wasn't expected to put my useless hormone results on the fridge. In fact my reproductive organs got an 'F' for fail. As punishment I had to strip off right there and then and have an impromptu internal ultrasound with the dreaded 'probe' device which is so not my favourite piece of medical equipment anymore (if it ever was). I mean, Justin got his own room, all the time in the world and a Gold Fucking Star! So unfair. 

And here's where it got even more bizarre. The Dr handed me the probe and said "Go ahead and put this in yourself". I'm thinking...what now I've got to do your job for you as well. Men! Lazy sons of bitches. 

Well this was all very annoying indeed. For anyone who hasn't had to do this before (and I'm expecting I'm setting a new precedent - so beware ladies), believe me when I say there is no way you can look graceful when you attempt this. I couldn't hold it there with any amount of steel strength kegle pumping pelvic floor muscles and so I was forced to contort into a pretzel until that bastard of a man that called himself a new age Dr returned from behind the thin curtain. He looked at me like he was now suddenly realising that I was mentally handicapped and would begin giving me slow instructions to make it easier from now on. 

The Dr has a rummage and a look around at my uterus and ovaries and invites Justin in for a look also. It's just one big freak sideshow of useless reproductive organs and underneath the shame of it all is me, wishing i was back making fun of Justin struggling to have a private wank with me in the room. Nothing seems funny now. 

I am quizzed about my weight, and my cycles. All below average grade scores of course. I used to be a straight A student, this is so humiliating. My ego gets battered and bruised some more and then we part ways with the big wig fertility Dr; and then we make our way to another pathology unit so I can have more blood taken (this time costing $92 for the privilege). 

We drive the 3 and a half hours home, just talking about trivial shit that we find both debatable and chat worthy. 

We have survived our first IVF appointment and later we would find out that our 'first cycle' has now begun. 

   

bLaCk hOLe

http://www.terrafirmapitlids.com/new/images/out-of_dark_pit_480w.jpg - In case there is some copyright monster lurking about

I am mentally sitting at the bottom of the darkest chasm I have ever created in my mind's eye. It's quiet, almost peaceful, but very lonely. I am down here by choice. You can talk to me, you won't notice anything on the outside unless you are one of three people who know me too well. I continue to function as I would be expected to. That way I am safe from questioning.
But even safer still I am cradling myself in this empty void of self pity. I feel hatred, sadness, and shame in their purest forms. I am grieving for no other reason than to feel sorry for myself. I won't allow myself to cry yet; for I know when I do I won't be able to stop for days. I am not ready to go there yet.
You can call it depression if you like, but I know it's not as simple as that. I am too intelligent for such an easy label. I am complex and evolving. I am in control but wish to let go at the same time.
I have achieved so much in my life and yet I can not achieve something so seemingly natural. When will it end? When will I be able to join and be happy for our friends? I have never hated the word 'congratulations' so much as I do now. I refuse to say that word anymore.

LaParOsCoPy LuNA pArK



Yesterday I went in to Palmerston North Hospital for laprascopic dye testing under a general anesthetic and it took me most of the day to recover. I was completely off chops. I'm not a pill popper. I rarely take panadol; and only ever for extreme menstrual cramps; So I can't say I enjoyed feeling doped to the eye-balls and unable to walk straight or hold an intelligent conversation for longer than 5 seconds, but at least it's over and done with now.
For anyone who has never had this procedure before...First you're starved, then your interrogated, then you are stripped down and placed in a bare-bottom robe, then you are stabbed, then you are sedated...And then you are told you are going to be in a considerable amount of pain over the next few days while you are still dazed and confused; and I ask myself....
...this is NOT considered torture because?
So anyway it wasn't all bad, if at all. I was only on the public waiting list for 3 days instead of 6 months, I had my private gynecologist conduct the surgery by way of luck, and they found out something we didn't know before.
It turns out both my fallopian tubes are completely blocked, so IVF it is.
This is actually a relief, and even through my grogginess I managed a smile for my Dr who looked as though he was trying to figure out how I was going to react to this bad news, I'm not sure he was expecting happiness exactly. But when you have been trying to get pregnant for as long as we have and you know the inside information as to how long it takes to jump all the hoops and get on to IVF then you begin to look at things very differently.
I can't wait to get on the next big waiting list. It will be the IVF waiting list and I am prepared for a big wait - but with the way our luck has been going lately perhaps we won't be waiting as long as we first thought.
Now we are talking designer babies, and even though we know we are by no means out of the woods yet we are certainly close enough to get excited.
For all those out there who just fall pregnant randomly and it's such a big surprise - you have no idea what it is like to spend years planning and analysing that actual moment of pure happiness. The worry and anxious 8-9 month wait to see if it will progress to a full-term baby, and then make it's way lustily crying into the two sets of arms that have longed for years for that very relief. It's heart wrenching but I can only imagine the best thing to ever happen once it's all finally over. And I can also see why couples going through IVF will often opt for 2 embryos to be implanted - why take the chance of gaining nothing when you can double your chances from the beginning. It makes so much sense to me now. You just want a happy healthy baby, but if you get the chance and end up with 2 happy healthy babies then it's just a bonus - you just don't know if you will get another chance at it again. It's all just gambling and trying to double your odds for the sake of your emotional and physical well-being.
I will always see couples who have or are going through fertility clinics in a totally different light now. It truly is a character building experience.
Fingers crossed that our childless days will soon be over.