I've been really slack on the blogging front. Because, baby. Also I lost the charging cord to my laptop.
My wee man is 10 and a bit weeks old. If you follow me on insty, you will have been well and truly spammed by photos of him, and will see that he is very cute. We are besotted. We are working him out. Well, mainly me, as my partner has gone back to work.
We man started smiling at 6 weeks and 2 days, after an early morning feed. His preferred time to be smiley and cute is in the middle of the night/early morning. He has started laughing and cooing. I know the difference between his tired cries, his hungry cries and his generally annoyed / fractious cries. We have had our first vaccinations; he cried but I managed not to.
Feeding wise, we were going well and weaning the formula after help from a lactation consultant, but wee man went through a growth spurt and got hungrier. He resents the boob when he is hungry and the milk won't flow freely. Hence, he is happier and I am happier if he is fed, and to do that, we give formula to fill him up after a boob. A bit of both. Why is there not more education about mixed feeding, I wonder?
Sleeping wise, he is doing some good chunks, we had a chunk of 7 hours after a particularly epic evening Witching hour.
We took bubs to New Zealand last week, to meet my fella's extended family. They were suitably enamoured and got some nice smiles and cuddles. Wee man met his 88 year old great great auntie. Getting the passport photo was not a simple undertaking, but we got there in the end. We stayed near a shopping centre, there was a Santa photo stall without a queue so we carpe'd the diem.
I have physically recovered well after my c-section, and I have gotten right back into crossfit. Wee man sits in his capsule in the corner and mostly sleeps. He is much more settled out and about than at home. The more hubbub, the better.
I am carrying 10 extra kilos from the pregnancy. I tried a weight loss program, but it was too hard at this stage. It will take a lot more than general healthy eating and exercise to shift the pooch - I hold onto body fat like a sloth and I would be the last to die in a famine. After I finish breastfeeding, I can give the weight a good nudge. I am embracing elasticated waists, flat shoes and no makeup.
I am enjoying the cuddles and the being still and drinking him in. It's precious time. It's long awaited. We are looking forward to our first Christmas as a family of three.
It's a time to reflect on the year. I looked back at my posts from 2017, a year ago. That was a hard, lonely, frustrating and sad year. After a lot of anger and "why me", I finished it with a desire to make the best of whatever eventuated. I was tired of longing.
As remiss as I am to write off or laud whole years, I can say that 2018 has been wonderful. My son. An engagement. Our new house has been built and we can move in next month. I got a new role at work. I get emotional thinking about the challenges past, and feel incredibly, utterly grateful for all that this year has brought. A part of me is terrified that something will be ripped away from me, but I try and keep that part at bay.
I hope you all have a lovely Christmas and a wonderful 2019. I hope you are happy and safe.
Tuesday 18 December 2018
Saturday 20 October 2018
The Newbie
Hello. It's been a while, and things have changed.
My little boy was born on 4/10. He was due to be whipped out on 5/10, but he had other ideas. My waters broke with meconium stained liquor on the 4/10, hence we were whisked to the operating theatre for an emergency c section.
We had 5 nights in the private hospital, my fella stayed the whole time, and it was the most wonderful little bubble. Our little family.
It seems like he has always been here, but I can't quite believe he is here. It has been a joyful 2 and a bit weeks, getting to know him, getting to know our new selves and navigating our relationship as a family of three.
The days go by in a blur of cuddles, nappy changes, baths and feeds.
I now see people not as adults, but as daughters and sons of mothers and fathers. I am different.
I have put pics on instagram, @c_j_hay, you will need to request to follow.
My little boy was born on 4/10. He was due to be whipped out on 5/10, but he had other ideas. My waters broke with meconium stained liquor on the 4/10, hence we were whisked to the operating theatre for an emergency c section.
We had 5 nights in the private hospital, my fella stayed the whole time, and it was the most wonderful little bubble. Our little family.
It seems like he has always been here, but I can't quite believe he is here. It has been a joyful 2 and a bit weeks, getting to know him, getting to know our new selves and navigating our relationship as a family of three.
The days go by in a blur of cuddles, nappy changes, baths and feeds.
I now see people not as adults, but as daughters and sons of mothers and fathers. I am different.
I have put pics on instagram, @c_j_hay, you will need to request to follow.
Tuesday 25 September 2018
Deep into Mat Leave - 37+0
Well Hi!
I pulled the plug on work at 34+3
I have been booked in for my elective c section on 5/10.
This means that, at the end of next week, barring going into labour before, or getting bumped till after, we will be parents to our Smoosh.
Smoosh is what I have started calling the little one. It seems appropriate, since he is smooshed in my belly. His name is also sometimes Wiggles, but he has less room to roll around in there.
For those of you who don't play along on instagram, what was to be my last day of work, we had a bit of a fright.
I felt really dizzy, reminiscent of the time a few years ago when I had my miscarriage. Also Wiggles was being very still. Although I was faintly aware of the fact that there was a 99.5% chance it would all be fine, I burst into tears and rang up the obstetrician's rooms. They got me to come in for a CTG. He was indeed not moving very much, but he woke up and did the normal thing with the movements and the good variability in heart rate. The midwife on was just lovely
The last two weeks, I have been keeping very busy, mainly tying up work projects and doing adulty life administrations tasks. I have submitted/near submitted 2 journal articles. I've been getting in naps where I can and where I need, soaking up the sleep. Making the necessary purchases - nappies, breast pads, nipple cream, thermometer. The odd controversial purchase (a tin of formula just in case, dummies). Trying, and largely succeeding, in resisting unnecessary purchases - baby has more clothing than I can fit in the drawers.
I have been curating my maternity leave lewk - having made some purchases of cheap and cheerful clothing for myself, with elasticated waists, easy boob access and washability essential. I've also borne in mind that tracky daks day in and day out can be a bit depressing - nothing lifts the mood like comfy but stylish clothes. Nevertheless, one of my favourite things about maternity leave is the "soft" clothing - soft pants, soft bras, soft shoes. So much more comfortable than workwear, even if it is maternity-friendly. Seriously, one of the least comfortable things about being pregnant and working is the maternity wear - I found that even the non-cheap items fell down and fit poorly. My feet have grown 1-2 euro sizes, hence I was not able to fit into many of my work shoes.
I have been doing some "baby swotting" - reading some books. I have read the book "The discontented little baby book" by Dr. Pamela Douglas. She has a very nice tone, is encouraging and focuses on the evidence and neurobiology of babies (they are little animals with immature nervous systems, essentially). It is quite informative, and not that instructive, which I like. I have also read bits and pieces of the book "Baby Love" by Robin Barker, this one is fairly universally recommended by midwives and is practical and middle of the road. Some people swear by "Save our Sleep", but it does not sound like something that I will be into - too hard wired on the rigid routines, as nice as sleep sounds.
Perhaps the most informative thing, though, has been talking to mums, different mums with different babies. We all have an idea of how we want to be as parents, and a fair number of us have this thrown out the window when baby comes, because he/she won't fit what we want or what the textbook says. Yet all come out of it ok, because they love and care for their babies.
I have prided myself on being in control of things at work, and thought I would have to let go of this. I was mentally preparing to do just this. However another aspect of the way I go about things, especially at work, is to be a person who just gets things done, without worrying necessarily about how. I am quite a flexible person in my work. I can only really use work as that has taken up much of my waking hours in adulthood!
This is an aspect that I will likely need to hold onto, to get through the hard days with a very little baby. Baby wants to cuddle - let him. I need a rest from cuddling - somebody else might have to settle him and I will need to tolerate crying. Boob feeding not going well? I will hire a hospital grade pump. I have the number of a private lactation consultant. If we need formula, we need formula. I need to remember that in the end, it doesn't make a great deal of difference, the important thing is that we get through the period as pleasantly as possible. The fact that they aren't that little for that long is a double-edged sword. Sleep will be easier to come by, but boy is that little baby period, by all accounts, sweet. I am trying not to get too anxious ahead of time, mainly because it won't change a thing.
The thing I am thinking about most is stroking the downy hair on bubs' head. The ultrasound suggested that he has hair. My partner (sorry fiancee) is most looking forward to having the baby grasp his finger.
I pulled the plug on work at 34+3
I have been booked in for my elective c section on 5/10.
This means that, at the end of next week, barring going into labour before, or getting bumped till after, we will be parents to our Smoosh.
Smoosh is what I have started calling the little one. It seems appropriate, since he is smooshed in my belly. His name is also sometimes Wiggles, but he has less room to roll around in there.
For those of you who don't play along on instagram, what was to be my last day of work, we had a bit of a fright.
I felt really dizzy, reminiscent of the time a few years ago when I had my miscarriage. Also Wiggles was being very still. Although I was faintly aware of the fact that there was a 99.5% chance it would all be fine, I burst into tears and rang up the obstetrician's rooms. They got me to come in for a CTG. He was indeed not moving very much, but he woke up and did the normal thing with the movements and the good variability in heart rate. The midwife on was just lovely
The last two weeks, I have been keeping very busy, mainly tying up work projects and doing adulty life administrations tasks. I have submitted/near submitted 2 journal articles. I've been getting in naps where I can and where I need, soaking up the sleep. Making the necessary purchases - nappies, breast pads, nipple cream, thermometer. The odd controversial purchase (a tin of formula just in case, dummies). Trying, and largely succeeding, in resisting unnecessary purchases - baby has more clothing than I can fit in the drawers.
I have been curating my maternity leave lewk - having made some purchases of cheap and cheerful clothing for myself, with elasticated waists, easy boob access and washability essential. I've also borne in mind that tracky daks day in and day out can be a bit depressing - nothing lifts the mood like comfy but stylish clothes. Nevertheless, one of my favourite things about maternity leave is the "soft" clothing - soft pants, soft bras, soft shoes. So much more comfortable than workwear, even if it is maternity-friendly. Seriously, one of the least comfortable things about being pregnant and working is the maternity wear - I found that even the non-cheap items fell down and fit poorly. My feet have grown 1-2 euro sizes, hence I was not able to fit into many of my work shoes.
I have been doing some "baby swotting" - reading some books. I have read the book "The discontented little baby book" by Dr. Pamela Douglas. She has a very nice tone, is encouraging and focuses on the evidence and neurobiology of babies (they are little animals with immature nervous systems, essentially). It is quite informative, and not that instructive, which I like. I have also read bits and pieces of the book "Baby Love" by Robin Barker, this one is fairly universally recommended by midwives and is practical and middle of the road. Some people swear by "Save our Sleep", but it does not sound like something that I will be into - too hard wired on the rigid routines, as nice as sleep sounds.
Perhaps the most informative thing, though, has been talking to mums, different mums with different babies. We all have an idea of how we want to be as parents, and a fair number of us have this thrown out the window when baby comes, because he/she won't fit what we want or what the textbook says. Yet all come out of it ok, because they love and care for their babies.
I have prided myself on being in control of things at work, and thought I would have to let go of this. I was mentally preparing to do just this. However another aspect of the way I go about things, especially at work, is to be a person who just gets things done, without worrying necessarily about how. I am quite a flexible person in my work. I can only really use work as that has taken up much of my waking hours in adulthood!
This is an aspect that I will likely need to hold onto, to get through the hard days with a very little baby. Baby wants to cuddle - let him. I need a rest from cuddling - somebody else might have to settle him and I will need to tolerate crying. Boob feeding not going well? I will hire a hospital grade pump. I have the number of a private lactation consultant. If we need formula, we need formula. I need to remember that in the end, it doesn't make a great deal of difference, the important thing is that we get through the period as pleasantly as possible. The fact that they aren't that little for that long is a double-edged sword. Sleep will be easier to come by, but boy is that little baby period, by all accounts, sweet. I am trying not to get too anxious ahead of time, mainly because it won't change a thing.
The thing I am thinking about most is stroking the downy hair on bubs' head. The ultrasound suggested that he has hair. My partner (sorry fiancee) is most looking forward to having the baby grasp his finger.
Thursday 30 August 2018
#PreggoAF
I am now 33+3 pregnant.
I was told 2nd trimester was king, that third trimester was tough. I was told that I would get tired and work would become difficult and to consider taking time off earlier.
Guess what?
I am tired, work is difficult, and I am pulling the plug on work a week earlier, next week, at 34+3. My gosh I am looking forward to it. Getting my head into the baby game. Setting up the nursery. Reading some books, hopefully.
Nowadays my timetable is roughly: Wake up, do a thing, rest/nap, do another thing, rest/nap, do another thing, sleep. I have learned that I need to take rest, there is no way around it, there is no need to feel bad about it.
I am fascinated by my belly. It is getting proper big. I look at it in the mirror often. I can often be found on the couch with my shirt pulled up, staring at it, looking for a wiggle from underneath. I do not tire of looking at it, nor feeling the movements. We have called the fetus Sir Wigglesworth.
My feet have puffed up, to the point where I only have a few pairs of shoes that actually fit. Hauling on pregnancy opaques to wear to work (this is the most comfortable option and less falling down than pants) makes me want to go right back to bed. My fingers have puffed to the point where I can barely shimmy my engagement ring on....
Yes. A few weeks ago, my partner and I got engaged.
For Christmas last year, my partner bought us a voucher to Vue De Monde. We took it as a Sunday lunch, to celebrate our being together 6 years.
In the uber on the way to the restaurant, we were running a little late. I could not get onto the restaurant to tell them this. My partner hates being late, and he was getting irritated with the uber driver as the driver was going a different route. I said "leave him alone, he knows where he's going". That resulted in us sitting in tense silence for the rest of the trip. When we exited the uber, we fired up again, him "don't tell me off in front of the uber driver", me "don't get so uptight" (then blubbing, because pregnant). Then we had a cuddle and made up.
We had our first course (delicious) then I went to the loo (becaue pregnant). When I came back, there was a little box on the table. I opened it, and there was a ring inside. I put it on my right hand. He said "no, put it on your left hand" and I looked at him questioningly. He said "do you wanna get married to me".
I said yes, and we both blubbed. We already had a glass of champers in our hand (Dom Perignon, thanks very much). It was perfect. It was us.
Anyway, yes. We will get married sometime when we have some money and after we have got the baby out and kept him alive for a little while and got the hang of things. House knockdown rebuild is in full swing. We are up for a few more $ than we thought, as there is rock that we needed to excavate to get the slab put down.
It's all happening here. For a long time, nothing much was happening. Now it's on like Donkey Kong.
Many thanks to you all for your kind comments on my last post. I want to keep a relationship with my mum, as she has a good heart underneath it all. I just need to find a way to keep boundaries on things. Right now, I am tying up the loose ends at work, trying to get through, and looking forward to what I hope will be a restful few weeks off.
I was told 2nd trimester was king, that third trimester was tough. I was told that I would get tired and work would become difficult and to consider taking time off earlier.
Guess what?
I am tired, work is difficult, and I am pulling the plug on work a week earlier, next week, at 34+3. My gosh I am looking forward to it. Getting my head into the baby game. Setting up the nursery. Reading some books, hopefully.
Nowadays my timetable is roughly: Wake up, do a thing, rest/nap, do another thing, rest/nap, do another thing, sleep. I have learned that I need to take rest, there is no way around it, there is no need to feel bad about it.
I am fascinated by my belly. It is getting proper big. I look at it in the mirror often. I can often be found on the couch with my shirt pulled up, staring at it, looking for a wiggle from underneath. I do not tire of looking at it, nor feeling the movements. We have called the fetus Sir Wigglesworth.
My feet have puffed up, to the point where I only have a few pairs of shoes that actually fit. Hauling on pregnancy opaques to wear to work (this is the most comfortable option and less falling down than pants) makes me want to go right back to bed. My fingers have puffed to the point where I can barely shimmy my engagement ring on....
Yes. A few weeks ago, my partner and I got engaged.
For Christmas last year, my partner bought us a voucher to Vue De Monde. We took it as a Sunday lunch, to celebrate our being together 6 years.
In the uber on the way to the restaurant, we were running a little late. I could not get onto the restaurant to tell them this. My partner hates being late, and he was getting irritated with the uber driver as the driver was going a different route. I said "leave him alone, he knows where he's going". That resulted in us sitting in tense silence for the rest of the trip. When we exited the uber, we fired up again, him "don't tell me off in front of the uber driver", me "don't get so uptight" (then blubbing, because pregnant). Then we had a cuddle and made up.
We had our first course (delicious) then I went to the loo (becaue pregnant). When I came back, there was a little box on the table. I opened it, and there was a ring inside. I put it on my right hand. He said "no, put it on your left hand" and I looked at him questioningly. He said "do you wanna get married to me".
I said yes, and we both blubbed. We already had a glass of champers in our hand (Dom Perignon, thanks very much). It was perfect. It was us.
Anyway, yes. We will get married sometime when we have some money and after we have got the baby out and kept him alive for a little while and got the hang of things. House knockdown rebuild is in full swing. We are up for a few more $ than we thought, as there is rock that we needed to excavate to get the slab put down.
It's all happening here. For a long time, nothing much was happening. Now it's on like Donkey Kong.
Many thanks to you all for your kind comments on my last post. I want to keep a relationship with my mum, as she has a good heart underneath it all. I just need to find a way to keep boundaries on things. Right now, I am tying up the loose ends at work, trying to get through, and looking forward to what I hope will be a restful few weeks off.
Saturday 21 July 2018
Phatty McWaddlebum. Significant relationships.
I am now 27 weeks and 4 days pregnant (not like I am counting or anything).
I have just copped my third cold of this pregnancy. I used to go 18 months without getting a cold. Now I get whatever is going around. I am now expert in the good/bad/ugly of cold symptom modification. Read the US baby/mothering websites and they will tell you that pretty much nothing is safe to use in pregnancy, so suffer in your jocks, ladies.
I am a bit of a ninja with google scholar, and a keen reader of the medical literature.
FOR ME (ie this is not medical advice) I can summarise things as such: Nasal vasoconstrictor sprays, nasal steroids, Inhaled corticosteroids, older antihistamines, codiene to suppress cough - all fine especially beyond first trimester and not too late in pregnancy, and with no more than a few days use at a time. My gp echoes these recommendations.
Read the internet mothering websites, especially those from the US, and the information regarding pregnancy can be summarised as:
Look, ladies, living is potentially harmful to your growing baby, hence it's probably safest to sit inside your home and do and eat and drink nothing, because you wouldn't want to hurt your baby now, would you?
Generally, and on balance, I am feeling good. I am continuing to do crossfit. I feel (perhaps for the first time in my adult life) beautiful. I am working hard and have reasonable amounts of energy. I am not that hungry at the moment as my uterus expands to abut my stomach.
We've just moved house, like 2 weeks ago, awaiting the knockdown and rebuild on our property. The house was in a fairly substandard state, and things ticked off on the condition report as working and fine were not indeed working and fine. Hence the property manager found himself torn a new bum-hole by an exhausted pregnant lady. Things are getting fixed, but we are still without an oven. My partner is liaising with the property manager, which is probably best for the property manager.
So I am nice and busy and enjoying life. Generally. Apart from a few things. Because nothing is ever perfect, right.
Sigh.
I have alluded to it on this blog a few times but not spelled it out.
To summarise, my childhood was shitty, and I have clawed my way out of it, via hard work, >$10000 worth of therapy, and being brave.
How was it shit?
Without going into too much detail - my father was a horrible, wife beating alcoholic who passed away (in traumatic circumstances) when I was 14. I miss having a dad, but I am relieved he is gone.
My mum and him split up when I was 10. Very bravely, I must say, because nobody gave a shit about family violence in those days. Thereafter was punctuated with long periods of her being badly depressed and confined to bed (nobody gave a shit about that either), mostly enough money to keep a roof over our heads and keep us fed (but substantial money worry invading my consciousness from an early age) but none for anything nice. I was good at school and had some friends, but many other kids bullied me (nobody gave a shit about bullying either). I didn't think at first that it worried me, but deep down, it did.
Hence I got into uni, got together with the first guy who showed an interest (we all know how that turned out), moved out as soon as I was able. Things went fine for a few years until they didn't. Things, very understandably, caught up with me, and I continue to have to face up to the consequences. It's not my fault, but it is my life, my responsibility. I have the brains and the means and I consider myself lucky to be able to manage things as I do, and live my best life.
These childhood issues have played out interestingly (!) in pregnancy. Pregnancy has a way of bringing back past traumas. I'm dealing with it.
The other thing is the relationship with my mum.
I have not had any significant emotional or material support from her in 20 years or so. My younger brother and sister had more difficult adolescent periods than I, and this took up a lot of my mum's energy, so I asked her for nothing, expected nothing. Years later, they left home, and, rather than my mum spreading her wings and living the life she deserves without having to worry how she will raise children, she has become rudderless and self-sabotaging. There have again been long periods of depression. My brother has not been able to hold down a proper job in, like, forever, and he sponges off her, but she won't stand up to it. She never has any money despite working full time in a reasonable job, and abuses her health by smoking, not exercising, not eating properly and staying up all night watching youtube.
At times I have felt responsible for her, and there has been quite a bit of reverse-parenting.
I've gotten a bit jack of that, to be honest.
I have become a fiercely independent woman, yet I still yearn for some occasional nurturing. I try to get it where I can, and I have many friends. I have long stopped expecting any of it from mum. She offers to help sometimes but I generally decline.
She sees the birth of grandchildren as redemptive for her. She is much more "my grandchild" than "the child of my children". I saw lots of unpleasantries go down between her and my sister when my niece was born. Mum decompensated in a big way when her first grandchild was born. I think it bought back lots of sad memories for her, which she has not yet reconciled.
Mum says she wants to look after the baby when I work, which is nice, but I have my doubts about how this will play out.
I suppose things crystallised last weekend. She came to my place, reeking of cigarette smoke. I had lunch for her, made her cups of tea, listened to her talking. I don't really say much about myself, because her hearing is poor, and she interrupts often.
After a solid week at work, and a house move, this was the first time I had sat down all week. I hit a wall very quickly. I just wanted to go to bed. Rather than "poor thing, you must be exhausted" she commented on a grey hair I had sprouting out, and said that she would take as long as she wanted to drink her cup of tea "just to piss you off".
That night, I went to my friends place for dinner. His mum, who I have met a few times, was visiting from Singapore. She was cooking up a storm. She had found out that I liked a particular Asian dish, and made it just for me. She bought me food and took my plates and gave me a hug and rubbed my belly. It was nice. I was tired and bade farewells not too long after. The contrast was stark.
I think some boundaries need to be set. I am working with my very talented therapist who have been seeing on and off for the past 7 years. She will help me. I will be accused by my mum of "using the baby as a weapon against her" (or some such, she levelled similar at my sister when my sister attempted to set the same) but I am a bit beyond caring. I have unfortunately gotten to a point where it is neither here nor there if I don't see or speak to her in a month or more. That is saying something.
Anyway, that is probably the most "real" I have been for a while, congrats on getting this far.
I have just copped my third cold of this pregnancy. I used to go 18 months without getting a cold. Now I get whatever is going around. I am now expert in the good/bad/ugly of cold symptom modification. Read the US baby/mothering websites and they will tell you that pretty much nothing is safe to use in pregnancy, so suffer in your jocks, ladies.
I am a bit of a ninja with google scholar, and a keen reader of the medical literature.
FOR ME (ie this is not medical advice) I can summarise things as such: Nasal vasoconstrictor sprays, nasal steroids, Inhaled corticosteroids, older antihistamines, codiene to suppress cough - all fine especially beyond first trimester and not too late in pregnancy, and with no more than a few days use at a time. My gp echoes these recommendations.
Read the internet mothering websites, especially those from the US, and the information regarding pregnancy can be summarised as:
Look, ladies, living is potentially harmful to your growing baby, hence it's probably safest to sit inside your home and do and eat and drink nothing, because you wouldn't want to hurt your baby now, would you?
Generally, and on balance, I am feeling good. I am continuing to do crossfit. I feel (perhaps for the first time in my adult life) beautiful. I am working hard and have reasonable amounts of energy. I am not that hungry at the moment as my uterus expands to abut my stomach.
We've just moved house, like 2 weeks ago, awaiting the knockdown and rebuild on our property. The house was in a fairly substandard state, and things ticked off on the condition report as working and fine were not indeed working and fine. Hence the property manager found himself torn a new bum-hole by an exhausted pregnant lady. Things are getting fixed, but we are still without an oven. My partner is liaising with the property manager, which is probably best for the property manager.
So I am nice and busy and enjoying life. Generally. Apart from a few things. Because nothing is ever perfect, right.
Sigh.
I have alluded to it on this blog a few times but not spelled it out.
To summarise, my childhood was shitty, and I have clawed my way out of it, via hard work, >$10000 worth of therapy, and being brave.
How was it shit?
Without going into too much detail - my father was a horrible, wife beating alcoholic who passed away (in traumatic circumstances) when I was 14. I miss having a dad, but I am relieved he is gone.
My mum and him split up when I was 10. Very bravely, I must say, because nobody gave a shit about family violence in those days. Thereafter was punctuated with long periods of her being badly depressed and confined to bed (nobody gave a shit about that either), mostly enough money to keep a roof over our heads and keep us fed (but substantial money worry invading my consciousness from an early age) but none for anything nice. I was good at school and had some friends, but many other kids bullied me (nobody gave a shit about bullying either). I didn't think at first that it worried me, but deep down, it did.
Hence I got into uni, got together with the first guy who showed an interest (we all know how that turned out), moved out as soon as I was able. Things went fine for a few years until they didn't. Things, very understandably, caught up with me, and I continue to have to face up to the consequences. It's not my fault, but it is my life, my responsibility. I have the brains and the means and I consider myself lucky to be able to manage things as I do, and live my best life.
These childhood issues have played out interestingly (!) in pregnancy. Pregnancy has a way of bringing back past traumas. I'm dealing with it.
The other thing is the relationship with my mum.
I have not had any significant emotional or material support from her in 20 years or so. My younger brother and sister had more difficult adolescent periods than I, and this took up a lot of my mum's energy, so I asked her for nothing, expected nothing. Years later, they left home, and, rather than my mum spreading her wings and living the life she deserves without having to worry how she will raise children, she has become rudderless and self-sabotaging. There have again been long periods of depression. My brother has not been able to hold down a proper job in, like, forever, and he sponges off her, but she won't stand up to it. She never has any money despite working full time in a reasonable job, and abuses her health by smoking, not exercising, not eating properly and staying up all night watching youtube.
At times I have felt responsible for her, and there has been quite a bit of reverse-parenting.
I've gotten a bit jack of that, to be honest.
I have become a fiercely independent woman, yet I still yearn for some occasional nurturing. I try to get it where I can, and I have many friends. I have long stopped expecting any of it from mum. She offers to help sometimes but I generally decline.
She sees the birth of grandchildren as redemptive for her. She is much more "my grandchild" than "the child of my children". I saw lots of unpleasantries go down between her and my sister when my niece was born. Mum decompensated in a big way when her first grandchild was born. I think it bought back lots of sad memories for her, which she has not yet reconciled.
Mum says she wants to look after the baby when I work, which is nice, but I have my doubts about how this will play out.
I suppose things crystallised last weekend. She came to my place, reeking of cigarette smoke. I had lunch for her, made her cups of tea, listened to her talking. I don't really say much about myself, because her hearing is poor, and she interrupts often.
After a solid week at work, and a house move, this was the first time I had sat down all week. I hit a wall very quickly. I just wanted to go to bed. Rather than "poor thing, you must be exhausted" she commented on a grey hair I had sprouting out, and said that she would take as long as she wanted to drink her cup of tea "just to piss you off".
That night, I went to my friends place for dinner. His mum, who I have met a few times, was visiting from Singapore. She was cooking up a storm. She had found out that I liked a particular Asian dish, and made it just for me. She bought me food and took my plates and gave me a hug and rubbed my belly. It was nice. I was tired and bade farewells not too long after. The contrast was stark.
I think some boundaries need to be set. I am working with my very talented therapist who have been seeing on and off for the past 7 years. She will help me. I will be accused by my mum of "using the baby as a weapon against her" (or some such, she levelled similar at my sister when my sister attempted to set the same) but I am a bit beyond caring. I have unfortunately gotten to a point where it is neither here nor there if I don't see or speak to her in a month or more. That is saying something.
Anyway, that is probably the most "real" I have been for a while, congrats on getting this far.
Sunday 17 June 2018
22+5 - Kicks
Melbourne has well and truly descended into winter. Today the rain fell down in sheets and the mercury struggled to get past 12 degrees. Meanwhile, my tummy has popped out and I am looking proper pregnant, as opposed to "has she been getting into the donuts?". After we came back with a good-looking ultrasound a week or so ago, I have finally capitulated and bought some maternity wear online. It is comfy, I can tell you that.
In the last couple of weeks, I've also been getting more and more movements from the little lad. I enjoy lying quietly awake in bed in the morning or night, feeling him move. He also seems very active when I sit down around dinner time. It's a lovely lovely feeling.
I have heard it said that it is very common for new/impending parents to plan house renovations. The reality of our upcoming move and house knock-down is looming larger. We have found a house to rent, a little bit further away from town than what we are currently, but it will be a nice comfy domicile to which we can bring our new baby. They also accepted our dog, which is good.
There is a streak in me that, when I am busy or things are challenging, I have to make them more so. I have been picking up extra sessions at work, we could always use the extra $. Also being busy makes one sharp, or so I think. I have had only one episode of preggo-brain...that I can recall.
I work with a fair few women in some of my workplaces, and talk has turned to modes of birthing and feeding.
I am of the firm "whatever works for the individual mum and baby" school. Also, to my relief, I don't attach any particular self-esteem to having a baby out the exhaust pipe (as opposed to the sunroof). I hope to be able to breastfeed, but I have no opposition to topping up with formula where required. What I am very staunchly opposed to is people, even professional midwifes, making mothers feel guilty if they can't or don't want to breast feed, and making some go to extraordinary lengths to breast-feed, through low supply, exhaustion and bouts of mastitis. It is true that women put a lot of pressure on themselves to be "natural". I am wont to do that, but I am gearing towards the "get through the day with everyone alive and well and fed" school of living. Also, nothing about the conception was natural, no need to start now. I also pity the person who tries to guilt me into anything, I am a keen reader of the medical literature, and I am very swift to rebut people who I think are wrong or out of line.
We say all these things; I wonder how I will actually feel when the time comes?
In the last couple of weeks, I've also been getting more and more movements from the little lad. I enjoy lying quietly awake in bed in the morning or night, feeling him move. He also seems very active when I sit down around dinner time. It's a lovely lovely feeling.
I have heard it said that it is very common for new/impending parents to plan house renovations. The reality of our upcoming move and house knock-down is looming larger. We have found a house to rent, a little bit further away from town than what we are currently, but it will be a nice comfy domicile to which we can bring our new baby. They also accepted our dog, which is good.
There is a streak in me that, when I am busy or things are challenging, I have to make them more so. I have been picking up extra sessions at work, we could always use the extra $. Also being busy makes one sharp, or so I think. I have had only one episode of preggo-brain...that I can recall.
I work with a fair few women in some of my workplaces, and talk has turned to modes of birthing and feeding.
I am of the firm "whatever works for the individual mum and baby" school. Also, to my relief, I don't attach any particular self-esteem to having a baby out the exhaust pipe (as opposed to the sunroof). I hope to be able to breastfeed, but I have no opposition to topping up with formula where required. What I am very staunchly opposed to is people, even professional midwifes, making mothers feel guilty if they can't or don't want to breast feed, and making some go to extraordinary lengths to breast-feed, through low supply, exhaustion and bouts of mastitis. It is true that women put a lot of pressure on themselves to be "natural". I am wont to do that, but I am gearing towards the "get through the day with everyone alive and well and fed" school of living. Also, nothing about the conception was natural, no need to start now. I also pity the person who tries to guilt me into anything, I am a keen reader of the medical literature, and I am very swift to rebut people who I think are wrong or out of line.
We say all these things; I wonder how I will actually feel when the time comes?
Monday 28 May 2018
19+6 weeks - Changes.
I've just gotten back from a lovely week in Palm Cove with my fella. It's been a while since we've just chilled out and spent time together, seeing each other at our best. We snorkelled, saw fish, cruised down the Daintree river and saw some little crocodiles, walked through the Daintree Rainforest and marvelled at the trees and enjoyed the forest sounds. We slept in, basked in the warmth (where we could), ate good food.
It was right back into work today. The weariness crept back quickly. It is almost anticipatory in nature - we have a big month coming up. Soon the demolition on our house will begin to make way for the new one. I made sure to speak to our neighbour, who grew up in this house, before we proceeded, just so she was prepared. There was a bit of tearfulness but she was ok.
As to the pregnancy, there have been a few changes. I am getting a definite bump. My proper pants officially do not fit, or they need a belly belt to hold them up. I am trying to respond to the bodily changes with a mix of calm, wonder and bemusement, rather than alarm. I am trying not to worry too much about weight gain. In any case, I don't seem to be gaining alarming amounts.
Preggo hormones relax all the smooth muscle in the body - the muscles in the blood vessels, the gut, the urethra (wee hole). Hence I am dizzy when I get up too quickly, I have some good going reflux, and a sudden cough or sneeze makes me sweat or dash to the loo. Yes I am doing my pelvic floor exercises. Funnily enough, there is an app for them, it is amusingly called "squeezy".
My predilection for salt and vinegar chips continues unabated. Samboy SnV chips are king. They give me a mild sweat, which could be the strong vinegar taste or could be the MSG. I am not sure. Fehlberg pickled onions are also king. They give rise to the delightful symptom of preggo farts.
I can manage all my daily tasks, however they wear me out a lot more. I need to be more diligent about hitting the sack early.
I am still doing crossfit, though my strength as well as my aerobic conditioning have decremented. I need to concentrate on enjoying what I can continue to do. I jumped rope this morning, even slipped in some double-unders.
I am wont to have tears sting my eyes much more easily now than before. It does not take me much to feel emotional. I am told that this is a permanent thing. I feel quite vulnerable at times, and very attached to my loved ones. I am looking at little babies (particularly little boy babies) with interest, striking up conversations with the mums about prams and carriers and whatnot.
I am seeing my obstetrician for the 20 week visit on Wednesday, and having the ultrasound next Friday. I think I will feel a bit more relaxed after that. The anxiety from the last scan has not quite gone away.
It's gonna be a busy couple of months. It's really been all about work and the pregnancy. I need to make time, after the move, to catch up with friends, see some movies. I've retreated into books and phone scrabble for recreation.
It was right back into work today. The weariness crept back quickly. It is almost anticipatory in nature - we have a big month coming up. Soon the demolition on our house will begin to make way for the new one. I made sure to speak to our neighbour, who grew up in this house, before we proceeded, just so she was prepared. There was a bit of tearfulness but she was ok.
As to the pregnancy, there have been a few changes. I am getting a definite bump. My proper pants officially do not fit, or they need a belly belt to hold them up. I am trying to respond to the bodily changes with a mix of calm, wonder and bemusement, rather than alarm. I am trying not to worry too much about weight gain. In any case, I don't seem to be gaining alarming amounts.
Preggo hormones relax all the smooth muscle in the body - the muscles in the blood vessels, the gut, the urethra (wee hole). Hence I am dizzy when I get up too quickly, I have some good going reflux, and a sudden cough or sneeze makes me sweat or dash to the loo. Yes I am doing my pelvic floor exercises. Funnily enough, there is an app for them, it is amusingly called "squeezy".
My predilection for salt and vinegar chips continues unabated. Samboy SnV chips are king. They give me a mild sweat, which could be the strong vinegar taste or could be the MSG. I am not sure. Fehlberg pickled onions are also king. They give rise to the delightful symptom of preggo farts.
I can manage all my daily tasks, however they wear me out a lot more. I need to be more diligent about hitting the sack early.
I am still doing crossfit, though my strength as well as my aerobic conditioning have decremented. I need to concentrate on enjoying what I can continue to do. I jumped rope this morning, even slipped in some double-unders.
I am wont to have tears sting my eyes much more easily now than before. It does not take me much to feel emotional. I am told that this is a permanent thing. I feel quite vulnerable at times, and very attached to my loved ones. I am looking at little babies (particularly little boy babies) with interest, striking up conversations with the mums about prams and carriers and whatnot.
I am seeing my obstetrician for the 20 week visit on Wednesday, and having the ultrasound next Friday. I think I will feel a bit more relaxed after that. The anxiety from the last scan has not quite gone away.
It's gonna be a busy couple of months. It's really been all about work and the pregnancy. I need to make time, after the move, to catch up with friends, see some movies. I've retreated into books and phone scrabble for recreation.
Sunday 6 May 2018
Regrouping - 16 + 5.
I've not had a great deal of time to contemplate the pregnancy. I've been working super hard, covering extra sessions, earning extra dollars. I've also had a nasty lurgy and needed a day off sick in amongst all of this. It's ok having a cold when you can take all the drugs. Now I can take very few of the drugs and it takes the discomfort up a number of notches. I even had to miss crossfit for a week!
Somebody asked me a week or so ago "have you bought a pram yet?"
That day, a friend offered me her Silver Cross pram. She was going to sell it on ebay, and offered to sell it to me a bit cheaper than she was intending to sell it on the net. I snapped it up. A cursory google search showed that the Silver Cross is the Range Rover of prams, and they go for about $1000 a pop at least. My friend, a mumma to a 3 year old boy who will be stopping at 1 child, gave me a big bunch of stuff including a cot and a change table and baby clothes. I've been told not to buy too much, I will get given a bunch of things for the baby.
I've bought elasticated waist pants and jeggings (jeggings FTW), but have not yet been able to bring myself to buy maternity gear, or buy baby stuff myself.
I went to the Myer baby clothes section yesterday, and wound up crying soon after. I tried again today, same deal.
I am starting to get excited about the pregnancy, but a large part of me does not want to engage too fully, lest I lose the pregnancy. My trigger is going to buy baby things. I am scared of jinxing the situation.
I think it will get better once I have had the 20 week scan. Once I see a proper bump. I still don't really look pregnant, just a bit "thicc". Reassuringly, my jeans waist is getting tighter by the week. I've bought a "belly band" online to keep my jeans in action for a few more weeks.
I am hoping this lurgy gets better this week!
Somebody asked me a week or so ago "have you bought a pram yet?"
That day, a friend offered me her Silver Cross pram. She was going to sell it on ebay, and offered to sell it to me a bit cheaper than she was intending to sell it on the net. I snapped it up. A cursory google search showed that the Silver Cross is the Range Rover of prams, and they go for about $1000 a pop at least. My friend, a mumma to a 3 year old boy who will be stopping at 1 child, gave me a big bunch of stuff including a cot and a change table and baby clothes. I've been told not to buy too much, I will get given a bunch of things for the baby.
I've bought elasticated waist pants and jeggings (jeggings FTW), but have not yet been able to bring myself to buy maternity gear, or buy baby stuff myself.
I went to the Myer baby clothes section yesterday, and wound up crying soon after. I tried again today, same deal.
I am starting to get excited about the pregnancy, but a large part of me does not want to engage too fully, lest I lose the pregnancy. My trigger is going to buy baby things. I am scared of jinxing the situation.
I think it will get better once I have had the 20 week scan. Once I see a proper bump. I still don't really look pregnant, just a bit "thicc". Reassuringly, my jeans waist is getting tighter by the week. I've bought a "belly band" online to keep my jeans in action for a few more weeks.
I am hoping this lurgy gets better this week!
Thursday 26 April 2018
And breathe out.
The first trimester ultrasound found something in the heart. At that time, it could have been an isolated finding, a part of a complex genetic syndrome (one that I faintly remembered from my time in medical school all those years ago), or part of a more complex cardiac condition.
The obstetrician/sonologist appraised us of the percentage likelihood of each thing, that it was more likely to be normal than not. She wanted us to wait another 3 weeks for a review with a cardiologist, plus/minus an amniocentesis.
We were devastated. Percentages mean nothing, one either gets a disease or doesn't - they don't get 5 or 10 or 20 per cent of a disease. We needed to get it sorted out, and we could not wait 3 weeks. We did not get much sleep that night. It stopped us in our tracks.
I requested chorionic villus sampling, as this could be done earlier along. I spoke with my obstetrician, who spoke with the sonologist. This was promptly arranged, three days after the initial ultrasound.
The CVS was physically and emotionally painful. Seeing the fetus on the ultrasound, knowing that a needle was going into the womb. I kept thinking "sorry little mate". The local anaesthetic didn't work very well, and I jumped a bit. The womb shifted. The sonologist told me that she had to make another pass. I started sobbing, and they left me for a bit to pull myself together. My fella held my hand and cried with me. The procedure was completed, I was sore and sorry, we were pretty subdued. I slept the rest of the day. I took the next day off. Luckily, the next morning, some initial results were available. The syndrome had been excluded. I felt superficially happy, but numb. It had been a harrowing week.
We went away on a weekend trip we had planned for months. We went to a restaurant called Brae, and stayed in the boutique accommodation. I don't know that we were in the right frame of mind, we were a bit tired, and pregnancy is not really the time to try new sophisticated tastes. Still, it was lovely to get away with some reassurance.
The following Wednesday, I went for a job interview. This is a role I had applied for a while ago. I spent a bit of time preparing for the interview, mainly because I wanted to slay it and get the role, but also as a bit of a distraction from what had been going on. I managed the interview well despite my nerves, was able to give comprehensive answers to all the questions, and did not have any brain-farts (which I have had before in interviews). I decided that, whatever the outcome, I would be proud for holding it together and not having a brain fart during the interview. I was very jittery after. I didn't know how I would manage if I didn't get the role - I've had a few fails in the past year or so, missed out on a few roles, and this with the infertility stuff has been an assault to my self-esteem. I did my trick of planning nice contingencies.
I had a call the next day - the panel was very impressed, and I got the job. A senior colleague on the panel knew about my pregnancy and told the head of the panel - they gave me the job anyway, saying they wanted the best candidate for the job. I am not sure how I felt about this news being passed on, but it saved me the awkies of having to share the news myself.
I was buoyed by this news, but still in the back of my mind was the worry about the pregnancy. I stayed away from people who I thought would tell me "it'll be alright" - that may well be true but it does not help me. I preferred instead to stay distracted. I threw myself into writing a paper, into Bachie in Paradise. My mindset changed from frightened to hopeful.
On Tuesday, I got the final results from the genetic testing, and had a review by a cardiologist specialising in congenital heart disease. The genetic testing was normal, and as far as the cardiologist could tell at this early stage, it appears to be an isolated anomaly in the heart, unlikely to be of any consequence.
My partner is still quite traumatised and not quite reassured by everything, but he is getting there.
I am feeling overwhelmingly grateful. Grateful for the care and love I have received, grateful that good things are happening. So grateful I get emotional when I think about things.
I am getting my head back into the game. The next thing is to get my flu shot, and to plan the babymoon. Can't go anywhere much because of Zika. Have found some nice places in Australia though.
The obstetrician/sonologist appraised us of the percentage likelihood of each thing, that it was more likely to be normal than not. She wanted us to wait another 3 weeks for a review with a cardiologist, plus/minus an amniocentesis.
We were devastated. Percentages mean nothing, one either gets a disease or doesn't - they don't get 5 or 10 or 20 per cent of a disease. We needed to get it sorted out, and we could not wait 3 weeks. We did not get much sleep that night. It stopped us in our tracks.
I requested chorionic villus sampling, as this could be done earlier along. I spoke with my obstetrician, who spoke with the sonologist. This was promptly arranged, three days after the initial ultrasound.
The CVS was physically and emotionally painful. Seeing the fetus on the ultrasound, knowing that a needle was going into the womb. I kept thinking "sorry little mate". The local anaesthetic didn't work very well, and I jumped a bit. The womb shifted. The sonologist told me that she had to make another pass. I started sobbing, and they left me for a bit to pull myself together. My fella held my hand and cried with me. The procedure was completed, I was sore and sorry, we were pretty subdued. I slept the rest of the day. I took the next day off. Luckily, the next morning, some initial results were available. The syndrome had been excluded. I felt superficially happy, but numb. It had been a harrowing week.
We went away on a weekend trip we had planned for months. We went to a restaurant called Brae, and stayed in the boutique accommodation. I don't know that we were in the right frame of mind, we were a bit tired, and pregnancy is not really the time to try new sophisticated tastes. Still, it was lovely to get away with some reassurance.
The following Wednesday, I went for a job interview. This is a role I had applied for a while ago. I spent a bit of time preparing for the interview, mainly because I wanted to slay it and get the role, but also as a bit of a distraction from what had been going on. I managed the interview well despite my nerves, was able to give comprehensive answers to all the questions, and did not have any brain-farts (which I have had before in interviews). I decided that, whatever the outcome, I would be proud for holding it together and not having a brain fart during the interview. I was very jittery after. I didn't know how I would manage if I didn't get the role - I've had a few fails in the past year or so, missed out on a few roles, and this with the infertility stuff has been an assault to my self-esteem. I did my trick of planning nice contingencies.
I had a call the next day - the panel was very impressed, and I got the job. A senior colleague on the panel knew about my pregnancy and told the head of the panel - they gave me the job anyway, saying they wanted the best candidate for the job. I am not sure how I felt about this news being passed on, but it saved me the awkies of having to share the news myself.
I was buoyed by this news, but still in the back of my mind was the worry about the pregnancy. I stayed away from people who I thought would tell me "it'll be alright" - that may well be true but it does not help me. I preferred instead to stay distracted. I threw myself into writing a paper, into Bachie in Paradise. My mindset changed from frightened to hopeful.
On Tuesday, I got the final results from the genetic testing, and had a review by a cardiologist specialising in congenital heart disease. The genetic testing was normal, and as far as the cardiologist could tell at this early stage, it appears to be an isolated anomaly in the heart, unlikely to be of any consequence.
My partner is still quite traumatised and not quite reassured by everything, but he is getting there.
I am feeling overwhelmingly grateful. Grateful for the care and love I have received, grateful that good things are happening. So grateful I get emotional when I think about things.
I am getting my head back into the game. The next thing is to get my flu shot, and to plan the babymoon. Can't go anywhere much because of Zika. Have found some nice places in Australia though.
Tuesday 10 April 2018
Foetus, interruptus.
We went for our first trimester ultrasound yesterday. The one that yields the photos that accompany the formal pregnancy announcements.
It took ages, and I had to empty my bladder and jiggle around to get things in the right position for optimal growth. There was abdo-cam and dildo-cam and every angle was taken.
The first warning was the time it took to do the scan. I didn't think it would take that long.
The second warning was being led out to the back room by the obstetrician.
It's not a normal ultrasound.
I have arranged some further tests.
It might be ok but it might not.
That is all I am saying about that, for the moment.
It took ages, and I had to empty my bladder and jiggle around to get things in the right position for optimal growth. There was abdo-cam and dildo-cam and every angle was taken.
The first warning was the time it took to do the scan. I didn't think it would take that long.
The second warning was being led out to the back room by the obstetrician.
It's not a normal ultrasound.
I have arranged some further tests.
It might be ok but it might not.
That is all I am saying about that, for the moment.
Sunday 1 April 2018
11+5. Pagan festival of Chocolate. Imma doing OK.
And Happy Easter Folks!
I'm just sat on my couch, after cooking up a storm for dinner. My friend has left, my fella is at a gig, I'm nibbling at my chocky treats (Haigh's, no less), torn between craving and feeling full.
I'm still a bit sick sometimes, but no voms. Most of the food aversions have passed, I managed to cook a beautiful lamb roast today. I followed Nagi's advice of starting the roast in the slow cooker, then browning in the oven. It threatened not to work out, as I didn't give it 10 hours (only 3 or 4) but the result was succulent. I made roast tatties which didn't work out as I wanted them, but were delicious. All the other food was made with loads of fat and or cheese/cream. It was delicious. The Piece de Resistance was an apple and raspberry cake I made for afters. I was a woman possessed. It's the most cooking I've done in a while.
I have continued being hungry, but have seen my way to healthier foods. By healthier, I mean tins of spaghetti or baked beans, rather than fried foods. I am enjoying carrots, but with lashings of french onion dip (the less fancy the better). I am requiring fewer strawberry milkshakes to get me through. Fruit wise, it's all about the pink lady apple. I am coming back around to meat and curries. When I was in the midst of the food aversions, I felt like they would never go away, but here we are.
I have been enjoying Crossfit, enjoying breaking a sweat with my friends. Perhaps the reason why I am enjoying it so much is that I am just enjoying what I can do, rather than going hell for leather or trying to compete. I have been able to do the majority of what is programmed and I am proud of this, and proud of knowing my own body. I did get a bit of pain about the pelvis last week, during a certain movement, which freaked me out a bit. The calming words of my friends and the obstetrician were effective.
I had been missing wine (or more correctly, sharing a bottle with friends and having a nice buzz with it). This nostalgia is settling. What I really get excited about nowadays is the afternoon nap, especially when I have a day off or finish early. I have tried to get through a day during the Easter break, go a hard-core all-dayer, but alas I have not managed it. Mama needs her rest.
Despite the fatigue and the seediness and the aversions and the cravings, it all seems a bit unreal. Even having seen the 10 week scan. Even as my pants get a bit tighter and I buy elasticated pants or clothing with a bit of give in it. It was only a couple of short months ago that I was planning the contingencies for if the pregnancy test came back negative (buy a car, book a holiday - I have done neither). How life can change. I am aware of how easily it might all go away, so hard was the pregnancy to come by. It seems a little indulgent to believe it.
Life is getting hectic, with the pregnancy, work, house renovations. I am taking it one day at a time, and in so doing I mostly avoid being overwhelmed. Perhaps it is the pregnancy hormones making me feel calm, but I have been practicing the art of telling myself I am doing fine, doing a good job. Even typing this seems a bit weird, I am not used to patting myself on the back. It does reduce the reliance on people telling me. I get the feeling that this might be a good skill to have as a parent.
I'm just sat on my couch, after cooking up a storm for dinner. My friend has left, my fella is at a gig, I'm nibbling at my chocky treats (Haigh's, no less), torn between craving and feeling full.
I'm still a bit sick sometimes, but no voms. Most of the food aversions have passed, I managed to cook a beautiful lamb roast today. I followed Nagi's advice of starting the roast in the slow cooker, then browning in the oven. It threatened not to work out, as I didn't give it 10 hours (only 3 or 4) but the result was succulent. I made roast tatties which didn't work out as I wanted them, but were delicious. All the other food was made with loads of fat and or cheese/cream. It was delicious. The Piece de Resistance was an apple and raspberry cake I made for afters. I was a woman possessed. It's the most cooking I've done in a while.
I have continued being hungry, but have seen my way to healthier foods. By healthier, I mean tins of spaghetti or baked beans, rather than fried foods. I am enjoying carrots, but with lashings of french onion dip (the less fancy the better). I am requiring fewer strawberry milkshakes to get me through. Fruit wise, it's all about the pink lady apple. I am coming back around to meat and curries. When I was in the midst of the food aversions, I felt like they would never go away, but here we are.
I have been enjoying Crossfit, enjoying breaking a sweat with my friends. Perhaps the reason why I am enjoying it so much is that I am just enjoying what I can do, rather than going hell for leather or trying to compete. I have been able to do the majority of what is programmed and I am proud of this, and proud of knowing my own body. I did get a bit of pain about the pelvis last week, during a certain movement, which freaked me out a bit. The calming words of my friends and the obstetrician were effective.
I had been missing wine (or more correctly, sharing a bottle with friends and having a nice buzz with it). This nostalgia is settling. What I really get excited about nowadays is the afternoon nap, especially when I have a day off or finish early. I have tried to get through a day during the Easter break, go a hard-core all-dayer, but alas I have not managed it. Mama needs her rest.
Despite the fatigue and the seediness and the aversions and the cravings, it all seems a bit unreal. Even having seen the 10 week scan. Even as my pants get a bit tighter and I buy elasticated pants or clothing with a bit of give in it. It was only a couple of short months ago that I was planning the contingencies for if the pregnancy test came back negative (buy a car, book a holiday - I have done neither). How life can change. I am aware of how easily it might all go away, so hard was the pregnancy to come by. It seems a little indulgent to believe it.
Life is getting hectic, with the pregnancy, work, house renovations. I am taking it one day at a time, and in so doing I mostly avoid being overwhelmed. Perhaps it is the pregnancy hormones making me feel calm, but I have been practicing the art of telling myself I am doing fine, doing a good job. Even typing this seems a bit weird, I am not used to patting myself on the back. It does reduce the reliance on people telling me. I get the feeling that this might be a good skill to have as a parent.
Tuesday 6 March 2018
8 Weeks. Seedy queen.
It's really starting to sink in, this preggo business.
Over the last week or so, I have been starting to feel ill. It is not limited to the morning, but occurs every time I get hungry. I have about 2 minutes to get something to eat before I feel sick. Thankfully, I have not vomited. I hate vomiting, it is a traumatic experience.
More prominently, I am getting food aversions. I have gone right off meat, unless it is contained in a dim sim (steamed, in my defence), a Maccas cheeseburger, or a sausage. I can only really manage salads, not steamed vegetables.
I went to a barbecue yesterday, I ate the meat sparingly, but felt personally victimised by the complete lack of any potato-based foodstuffs. Surely a potato salad is mandatory at a barbie?
My tastes have become more bland. I prefer salty food to sweet food. I have gone off coffee a bit, and don't like the idea of red wine, however a sneaky glass of champers on my birthday (39!!!!) was thoroughly enjoyed.
I can only stomach a chocolate milkshake after my crossfit workout. A small one. In my defence, it contains protein.
I can't tolerate much food at a time, and have been a convert to the "small amounts frequently" school of food consumption.
I know that my food choices aren't the healthiest, but it's really about getting through the busy days feeling as good as I can. Toasty cheese and tomato sandwiches have replaced fried goods. I am enjoying fruit, so I eat sufficient quantities of this. I am (mostly) doing the best I can. Besides, I figure these food preferences must serve some biological purpose.
I have been talking to my sister, she had identical food preferences during her first trimester. Down to the Chocolate Milkshake cravings.
I have developed a supernatural sense of smell. This is a little unfortunate, working in health care and living with a dog who sometimes does excited piddle leaks. I can also get quite dizzy when I stand up- the progesterone is working its magic on my blood vessels.
I have been doing crossfit. It makes me feel good to feel capable and work within my limitations (mainly feeling a bit seedy and sometimes dizzy) but still get a sweat happening. To know that the 80% effort I can comfortably muster is actually better than the 100% effort of last year. I have been doing the crossfit open, and have seen improvements.
It is reassuring to be having these symptoms. I didn't have them as strongly last time.
Still, it is hard to get too excited. I look back and ponder what I have been through, and how depleted I felt up to the time I got the two lines on the stick. It's quite unsurprising I find it hard to get excited. It'll come, hopefully, all going well.
In recent months, have made friends with some funny and irreverent infertiles on the 'gram. A couple of them have made the decision to stop treatment. I completely get where they are coming from. There is more power in walking away from what is not working than in pining for something that is moving further and further away. There is space for them to grieve. They seem better now.
As always, I have had plenty of other things to do and think about. Our impending house knockdown rebuild. Some papers I have to write. A job application. Normal life goes on.
Over the last week or so, I have been starting to feel ill. It is not limited to the morning, but occurs every time I get hungry. I have about 2 minutes to get something to eat before I feel sick. Thankfully, I have not vomited. I hate vomiting, it is a traumatic experience.
More prominently, I am getting food aversions. I have gone right off meat, unless it is contained in a dim sim (steamed, in my defence), a Maccas cheeseburger, or a sausage. I can only really manage salads, not steamed vegetables.
I went to a barbecue yesterday, I ate the meat sparingly, but felt personally victimised by the complete lack of any potato-based foodstuffs. Surely a potato salad is mandatory at a barbie?
My tastes have become more bland. I prefer salty food to sweet food. I have gone off coffee a bit, and don't like the idea of red wine, however a sneaky glass of champers on my birthday (39!!!!) was thoroughly enjoyed.
I can only stomach a chocolate milkshake after my crossfit workout. A small one. In my defence, it contains protein.
I can't tolerate much food at a time, and have been a convert to the "small amounts frequently" school of food consumption.
I know that my food choices aren't the healthiest, but it's really about getting through the busy days feeling as good as I can. Toasty cheese and tomato sandwiches have replaced fried goods. I am enjoying fruit, so I eat sufficient quantities of this. I am (mostly) doing the best I can. Besides, I figure these food preferences must serve some biological purpose.
I have been talking to my sister, she had identical food preferences during her first trimester. Down to the Chocolate Milkshake cravings.
I have developed a supernatural sense of smell. This is a little unfortunate, working in health care and living with a dog who sometimes does excited piddle leaks. I can also get quite dizzy when I stand up- the progesterone is working its magic on my blood vessels.
I have been doing crossfit. It makes me feel good to feel capable and work within my limitations (mainly feeling a bit seedy and sometimes dizzy) but still get a sweat happening. To know that the 80% effort I can comfortably muster is actually better than the 100% effort of last year. I have been doing the crossfit open, and have seen improvements.
It is reassuring to be having these symptoms. I didn't have them as strongly last time.
Still, it is hard to get too excited. I look back and ponder what I have been through, and how depleted I felt up to the time I got the two lines on the stick. It's quite unsurprising I find it hard to get excited. It'll come, hopefully, all going well.
In recent months, have made friends with some funny and irreverent infertiles on the 'gram. A couple of them have made the decision to stop treatment. I completely get where they are coming from. There is more power in walking away from what is not working than in pining for something that is moving further and further away. There is space for them to grieve. They seem better now.
As always, I have had plenty of other things to do and think about. Our impending house knockdown rebuild. Some papers I have to write. A job application. Normal life goes on.
Wednesday 21 February 2018
6+1 - big but little changes.
At the moment, I am hyper-aware of every little thing. I wanted to write some things down, for posterity. Part of me knows that there is a chance this could all be taken away from me. This feeling does not overwhelm me but it is there, it it what it is. It won't be through anything I do, just an unknown and unknowable milieu of micro-vessels, positioning and chromosomes.
I am a little bit queasy. This has just come up over the past couple of mornings, later in the day if I delay eating a minute after I get hungry. The nausea is nothing that some simple carbohydrates cannot promptly fix.
I am starting to get less anxious about my food cravings, namely that I will gain too much weight and get diabetes. Indeed, sweet food is neither here nor there. I am all about the savoury and salty food. My drug of choice at present is fast food potato cakes, with lots of salt and vinegar. I have limited myself to no more than one PC per 24 hours, some days I have a PC free day. Though I would like to do an experiment whereby I consume PCs until the desire is extinguished. I wonder how many I will get to. I have lost interest in meat, except for that contained in Dim Sims (steamed, in my defence) and salami (cooked up in a pasta sauce of course).
I am getting the odd cramp in my belly, some dull, some sharp and unilateral. I am told that this is normal, with the uterus increasing its blood supply. I didn't have any pains last time. The boobs are doing their boob thing.
Mostly I have good energy levels, this arvo I could have done with a nap. My patients and co-workers were no doubt grateful that I was able to push through.
Horrible news of violence and war from overseas would previously have made me sad, but not emotional. Today, I saw a teacher who died shielding his students from the gunman in Florida, and burst out crying. My fella is out for the evening but I felt I needed comforting. Other news stations were barely less emotive, so the TV is off for newshour.
It has not all been about the pregnancy, though I am told by reliable internet sources that the emby is about the size of a pea, at present.
Perhaps mercifully, there has been plenty to occupy my mind. From the collective rage and blustering and supporting my trainees after the RACP exam fiasco, to finding some solutions to tricky problems at work, to thinking about my boss and my ex, who are both sick.
I have my viability scan on Friday. I have taken it as a morning off work, I don't have work in the afternoon. It'll be a day off. I'm not nervous about the ultrasound, not at the moment, what will be will be.
I am a little bit queasy. This has just come up over the past couple of mornings, later in the day if I delay eating a minute after I get hungry. The nausea is nothing that some simple carbohydrates cannot promptly fix.
I am starting to get less anxious about my food cravings, namely that I will gain too much weight and get diabetes. Indeed, sweet food is neither here nor there. I am all about the savoury and salty food. My drug of choice at present is fast food potato cakes, with lots of salt and vinegar. I have limited myself to no more than one PC per 24 hours, some days I have a PC free day. Though I would like to do an experiment whereby I consume PCs until the desire is extinguished. I wonder how many I will get to. I have lost interest in meat, except for that contained in Dim Sims (steamed, in my defence) and salami (cooked up in a pasta sauce of course).
I am getting the odd cramp in my belly, some dull, some sharp and unilateral. I am told that this is normal, with the uterus increasing its blood supply. I didn't have any pains last time. The boobs are doing their boob thing.
Mostly I have good energy levels, this arvo I could have done with a nap. My patients and co-workers were no doubt grateful that I was able to push through.
Horrible news of violence and war from overseas would previously have made me sad, but not emotional. Today, I saw a teacher who died shielding his students from the gunman in Florida, and burst out crying. My fella is out for the evening but I felt I needed comforting. Other news stations were barely less emotive, so the TV is off for newshour.
It has not all been about the pregnancy, though I am told by reliable internet sources that the emby is about the size of a pea, at present.
Perhaps mercifully, there has been plenty to occupy my mind. From the collective rage and blustering and supporting my trainees after the RACP exam fiasco, to finding some solutions to tricky problems at work, to thinking about my boss and my ex, who are both sick.
I have my viability scan on Friday. I have taken it as a morning off work, I don't have work in the afternoon. It'll be a day off. I'm not nervous about the ultrasound, not at the moment, what will be will be.
Sunday 11 February 2018
BFP. ODAAT.
I had been tossing up whether to blog about this.... I've been talking about the IVF etc so much in this forum it would seem remiss.
Anyway, about 5 days after my embryo transfer, I started getting cramps, like an impending period. "Oh don't worry," my internet friends would say, "it could be implantation cramps".
"Yeah, right" I thought.
I found that 10 day wait really hard. Mainly because I thought I was just having to wait till I was disappointed again, and I just wanted to be put out of my misery.
On day 7, feeling really cagey, I thought "oh what the hell, I'll just pee on a stick (POAS)".
For the first time in 2.5 years, there were 2 lines.
It took a few days for that to sink in. Finally, on day 10, I went to go and get the official blood test, at sparrow fart in the morning. I worked the morning session and tried to chillax in the afternoon, having swapped my sessions.
The IVF doc rang. My HCG was in the comfortably 4 week pregnant range, as was my progesterone. My BFP - IVF forum lingo for Big Fat Positive.
I asked her a question and she told me to stop googling. I argued with "but I google scholar....". She said to go and get an ice-cream. It was a hot day. I did what the doc said.
Since then, my mind has been a bit all over the shop. I am one minute dressing my hypothetical baby in a cute onesie. Other times I am worried to the point of tears that the pregnancy will go down the route it went last time. I am trying to live in, if not the moment, then what I have to do in the day in question, and not think too far ahead, at this stage.
I have resisted the urge to look at the stats. I know that with my age my chances of all not proceeding are higher than average, but it does not do to dwell on that. Waste of time and energy, for starters. Hence I have done a good job of distracting myself, plotting world domination, et cetera.
It seems a long time to go till the viability scan. Just under two weeks, seems ages away. I am taking it One Day At A Time (ODAAT). The time will pass, it is up to me as to how anxiety filled it is. What will be, will be. The future is not really ours to see.
At a work meeting, my male colleague, whose wife is pregnant, got a hearty slap on the back from the male seniors/head honchos. I wonder whether the congratulations to me (if forthcoming) will be different. Along with the slight fatigue, the munchies and sore boobs, my angry feminist side seems to have popped up.
Anyway, about 5 days after my embryo transfer, I started getting cramps, like an impending period. "Oh don't worry," my internet friends would say, "it could be implantation cramps".
"Yeah, right" I thought.
I found that 10 day wait really hard. Mainly because I thought I was just having to wait till I was disappointed again, and I just wanted to be put out of my misery.
On day 7, feeling really cagey, I thought "oh what the hell, I'll just pee on a stick (POAS)".
For the first time in 2.5 years, there were 2 lines.
It took a few days for that to sink in. Finally, on day 10, I went to go and get the official blood test, at sparrow fart in the morning. I worked the morning session and tried to chillax in the afternoon, having swapped my sessions.
The IVF doc rang. My HCG was in the comfortably 4 week pregnant range, as was my progesterone. My BFP - IVF forum lingo for Big Fat Positive.
I asked her a question and she told me to stop googling. I argued with "but I google scholar....". She said to go and get an ice-cream. It was a hot day. I did what the doc said.
Since then, my mind has been a bit all over the shop. I am one minute dressing my hypothetical baby in a cute onesie. Other times I am worried to the point of tears that the pregnancy will go down the route it went last time. I am trying to live in, if not the moment, then what I have to do in the day in question, and not think too far ahead, at this stage.
I have resisted the urge to look at the stats. I know that with my age my chances of all not proceeding are higher than average, but it does not do to dwell on that. Waste of time and energy, for starters. Hence I have done a good job of distracting myself, plotting world domination, et cetera.
It seems a long time to go till the viability scan. Just under two weeks, seems ages away. I am taking it One Day At A Time (ODAAT). The time will pass, it is up to me as to how anxiety filled it is. What will be, will be. The future is not really ours to see.
At a work meeting, my male colleague, whose wife is pregnant, got a hearty slap on the back from the male seniors/head honchos. I wonder whether the congratulations to me (if forthcoming) will be different. Along with the slight fatigue, the munchies and sore boobs, my angry feminist side seems to have popped up.
Monday 29 January 2018
Inferno. The download and the 10DW. Plans a and b.
Melbourne has been positively INFERNAL the last few days, though thankfully the cool change has come through this evening. Our evaporative cooling chose the few days before the heatwave to bite the dust. The repair guy told me the cooling unit was 17 years old, which was an excellent innings for a cooler. I duly ordered a portable aircon on the internet - dispatched to the warehouse last Wednesday. I went to the Toll warehouse to see if I could collect it on Thursday, but I was sent away, that they could not possibly retrieve it for me. Hence we spent the weekend with a small portable aircon which was far more effective at making noise than at cooling.
I had my solo embryo downloaded yesterday. It has been a fairly emotional run up. I have been feeling the progesterone flu hard. Wanting to cry at this thing or that thing (or nothing much). Feeling irritable. Wanting to eat all the things. Fortunately, not all of these things occur at the same time.
In the US, it's called the 2WW, the 2 week wait - the period of time between the transfer and the pregnancy blood test. In Australia, it's 10 days. The 10DW (10 day wait) is tough. You have to avoid soft cheeses, alcohol, spas and saunas. It's hard to forget about, and just a matter of getting through the days as best one can. I have come up with a list of strategies.
Things to do
I have plans for if the embryo transfer doesn't work out. I have put a paper in for presentation at a conference in Vienna. I have made arrangements with my internet diet guru friend to help contain (not eliminate, contain) any comfort eating and/or drinking that may occur. I will book in some 1:1 training with my crossfit coach to nail some skills
I have no plans for if the pregnancy test is positive. It's been so long, 2 and a half years. I may find it hard to find the joy in it, such will be the fear of having another miscarriage. I will need to think of some ways to nurture myself and my partner through this period, also. I have no ideas. Maybe a google search?
Another great distractor is that we are looking at doing a knock down rebuild for our house. Lots of internet browsing at house designs.
I also bought myself a pair of shoes. I can't get the image pasted here, but google Senso Mackenzy heel in ebony. They are beautiful. I could not find them new online, but I found a pair in my size on ebay, pre-loved. They are badass shoes. I saw them on a girl in a cafe and she told me the brand, I tracked them down. Commitment.
I had my solo embryo downloaded yesterday. It has been a fairly emotional run up. I have been feeling the progesterone flu hard. Wanting to cry at this thing or that thing (or nothing much). Feeling irritable. Wanting to eat all the things. Fortunately, not all of these things occur at the same time.
In the US, it's called the 2WW, the 2 week wait - the period of time between the transfer and the pregnancy blood test. In Australia, it's 10 days. The 10DW (10 day wait) is tough. You have to avoid soft cheeses, alcohol, spas and saunas. It's hard to forget about, and just a matter of getting through the days as best one can. I have come up with a list of strategies.
Things to do
- put shampoo-in rinse in hair to make the colour a bit brighter
- Get eyebrows waxed
- Get pedicure
- write papers
- See I, Tonya
- Draw things
- Raid freezer and cook things from it
- Read my book
I have plans for if the embryo transfer doesn't work out. I have put a paper in for presentation at a conference in Vienna. I have made arrangements with my internet diet guru friend to help contain (not eliminate, contain) any comfort eating and/or drinking that may occur. I will book in some 1:1 training with my crossfit coach to nail some skills
I have no plans for if the pregnancy test is positive. It's been so long, 2 and a half years. I may find it hard to find the joy in it, such will be the fear of having another miscarriage. I will need to think of some ways to nurture myself and my partner through this period, also. I have no ideas. Maybe a google search?
Another great distractor is that we are looking at doing a knock down rebuild for our house. Lots of internet browsing at house designs.
I also bought myself a pair of shoes. I can't get the image pasted here, but google Senso Mackenzy heel in ebony. They are beautiful. I could not find them new online, but I found a pair in my size on ebay, pre-loved. They are badass shoes. I saw them on a girl in a cafe and she told me the brand, I tracked them down. Commitment.
Thursday 11 January 2018
#fitAF, My fitness story.
This post might be boring to anyone who is not me.
The above is a picture of myself power-cleaning 42.5kg, I am mid-air. I am blurry because it is a fast movement.
I go to crossfit 5 or 6 times a week. I see my box-mates more than I do my family or non-crossfit friends. Hence it is quite a big deal in my life. So I am gonna write about it.
I am now coming up to 3 years since I joined the Holy Church of Crossfit, and I can say with confidence that it is the best thing I have done, fitness wise. It is not for everybody, but it is for me.
I was never a fit or sporty kid at school or even really uni. I had my greasy nose in a book most of the time. I could not jump high or run fast, which was a big deal back in the day. Yet I am willing to bet that many of my athletically talented primary school contemporaries are now sliding into a middle age spread, and can barely touch their toes. (Though I have stalked Narelle, my school arch-enemy, on Facebook. She is a personal trainer who says things like "dream believe achieve"....I can't even. Silly Mole.)
I started running a lot when I had a bout of depression in my late 20s. I was not particularly good or fast at that, but I worked my way up to a half-marathon. I was running to "lose weight". I didn't lose a lot.
I had a second bout of depression, then a divorce. I upped my game to a full London marathon (distance ran proportional to trauma - here is hoping I never wish to run an ultramarathon), but got injured after so stopped. I trained with a now defunct running group. I still catch up with the women who I met there. Fabulous women, about 6 of us!
About 4 years back, I started doing some boot camp stuff with a lady whose alias shall be J. A lady in her late 40s, she was clawing her way through the menopause, one knee-destroying, crop top wearing, laser skin rejuvenation marathon at a time. At the time I thought she knew her stuff. She had a garage gym set up. She would look us up and down after we came back from holidays to see whether we had gained weight. She did not believe in positive reinforcement, and didn't like it when we cheered each other through a workout. She screamed and yelled. I trained with her for about 18 months. All the while, I was coming to an increasingly firm conclusion that she was, in fact, a bit of a cow.
One day, I had a tough day at work, and was in the thick of writing up my PhD. I did not go right to the end of a stair run, and one of the other
I never went back after that.
I had been a bit curious to try Crossfit, but it looked a bit scary. The official intro video showed fit people doing scary things. I ramped up the courage to call the owner, to see if I could try, and to outline my concerns. I did a trial session and from then on, I was hooked.
Soon after I started, I did run for the kids, and sustained a nasty sprain to my ankle. That cooled things for a bit. Then I had the infamous pregnancy/miscarriage event of 2015. I didn't train that hard until I finished my PhD at the end of 2015/early 2016.
The main improvement I have made since doing crossfit is in my strength.
I am in or near the "Strong" category relative to my body weight for all the moves listed above, except that I cannot do an unassisted pull up.
There are things that I can do that I could never do before I started, or even a year in. For example, we did 100 sit-ups for time yesterday. I did that without taking any more than a 2 second break.
I have been introduced to the wonderful world of Olympic lifting. I still giggle when I ask coach to come and watch my snatch. I clean weights better than I clean plates.
I am not very fast, but I can jog 5 kilometres when the fancy takes me. I might struggle with 10 but it would not take me too long to train to it.
As with most things, though, most of the limitation occurs in the mind. There are a few things that I have not made much progress on - pull ups, kick up to handstand, and box jumps being the main things.
I realise that the error that I make with these is that I expect improvements to be made in large chunks rather than in small increments. These are "can or can't" movements but there are levels in between. I need to train with that in mind. Thankfully, our coaches have designed the program that allows us to make continuous incremental improvements without having achieved the complete movement. The coaches also let us know we are improving. I nearly did a kick up to handstand today! Not long now.
The other error that I make is that I compare myself to others, and get discouraged when I see other (often younger, skinner athletes) people pulling ahead of me in a workout. Hence, I have taken to consciously blocking them out and focussing on my own game.
I also used to freak out and slow the hell down when I got uncomfortable. I learned to deal with discomfort and work to the edge of it.
These skills - chipping away at things, enjoying the process and the millimetre increments, focussing on my own game, and dealing with discomfort - have bled over into other areas of my life.
That, for me, is the most powerful thing.
Also, though I have a bit of a belly and am fatter than when I thought I was fat, I have far better body image. I cringe when I hear women telling other women about "fat burning" or "not getting too big". and things along those lines. Crossfit delights in strong women, who sweat and cuss and grunt and have muscles and hand calluses.
Sunday 7 January 2018
Triumph and Disaster. New Year Resolutions.
Happy new(ish) 2018, readers.
I've been meaning to write for a few days now. Touch base, check in.
I've had a good Exmas and New Years' period.
On Exmas day, despite the fact that a guest was heavily pregnant, I was near to my best self. I cooked a great meal and was a good hostess. I did not cry and only required one nap, and this was because I went out a bit hard on the campari spritzes, and followed it up by serving negronis. My pavlova was demolished. We had just enough food and not too many leftovers. I consider it a win.
We went to the Barossa Valley in between Exmas and New Year, for my fella's birthday. I got a taste of some Grange 2013 at Penfolds MacGill estate, at the bargain basement price of 50 bucks for a mouthful, with some other posh wine tastes thrown in. A bucket list thing ticked off.
NYE was spent at home with my fella and dog. We had a nice meal cooked at home, and some bubbly. As I slid between my clean sheets at 2230 hours I applauded my life choices - no jostling crowds or small talk with people I barely know. Sleep is good.
I have been working throughout the festive period, and generally keeping busy. With the break in IVF proceedings, I have managed to forget about it, which has done me the world of good, and turned what might have been a stressful time into quite an enjoyable one.
However, there is the small matter of the embryo in the freezer, which I am having deposited this month. It's like the screws have tightened and I am feeling stressed about it, again. My plan of psychological attack during the period will once again be "one day at a time".
Work wise, I have had a bit of unsettling news. I work in a few different locations, some job roles I like, one I don't. I have been looking to ditch the role I don't like, but just waiting for another job role to fill it. Gradually my role in another place has been expanding, under the supervision of a supportive boss who I admire. I had told him that I wanted to work more with him, and that I appreciated his mentorship.
Anyway, today I rolled up to do some work and researchy things. I went and said g'day to this boss's secretary. She looked upset, and asked me what scope I had to do further work. She then went on to explain that the boss was sick, the exact nature of the illness unclear, and he asked me to fill one of his roles while he was undergoing treatment which would take at least some months.
The potentially good opportunity for me to do some good work (and ditch what I don't want to do), and do my mentor proud, is wrapped up in the very shitty news that he is ill and may not even be around to mentor too long. I can't imagine what he must be going through.
I've learned that life does not often look like what we thought it would. The extension of that is that good opportunities, rather than being presented on a silver platter, are sometimes wrapped up in dirty newspaper.
I've also learned that being an adult is hard. The older we get, the more we hear about illnesses, divorces, loss. We are dodging bullets. We hope that one does not hit us, as we see people close to us fall. There is often very little sense to how and who the bullets hit. All we can do is live our best life.
With this in mind, I have come up with a set of NY resolutions that do not involve slimming. I wrote these a little while ago.
1. To (definitely) visit Wilson’s Prom and Far North Queensland. Maybe also Europe, Galapagos amd Costa Rica (depends...)
2. To draw a picture once per week, or write things.
3. To always have nicely groomed eyebrows
4. To see a fillum one a month, at a proper cinema
5. To give others more compliments and encourage them.
6. To give myself more compliments
7. To be patient with myself, practice things I am not good at or that are time consuming but important, and just plug away and not worry how long it’s taking. To be in love with the process rather than the outcome.
8. To wear more bright lipsticks
9. To eat and relish fruit and veg in season
10. To keep my hands well moisturised and free of too much callus (life of a crossfitter...)
11. To ensure my footwear mostly meets the brief of stylish but comfortable
12. To keep a list of things to do if I feel bored/stressed
13. To do 5 minutes of decluttering per day because it is legit good for the soul.
14. To say yes to fun things.
I've been meaning to write for a few days now. Touch base, check in.
I've had a good Exmas and New Years' period.
On Exmas day, despite the fact that a guest was heavily pregnant, I was near to my best self. I cooked a great meal and was a good hostess. I did not cry and only required one nap, and this was because I went out a bit hard on the campari spritzes, and followed it up by serving negronis. My pavlova was demolished. We had just enough food and not too many leftovers. I consider it a win.
We went to the Barossa Valley in between Exmas and New Year, for my fella's birthday. I got a taste of some Grange 2013 at Penfolds MacGill estate, at the bargain basement price of 50 bucks for a mouthful, with some other posh wine tastes thrown in. A bucket list thing ticked off.
NYE was spent at home with my fella and dog. We had a nice meal cooked at home, and some bubbly. As I slid between my clean sheets at 2230 hours I applauded my life choices - no jostling crowds or small talk with people I barely know. Sleep is good.
I have been working throughout the festive period, and generally keeping busy. With the break in IVF proceedings, I have managed to forget about it, which has done me the world of good, and turned what might have been a stressful time into quite an enjoyable one.
However, there is the small matter of the embryo in the freezer, which I am having deposited this month. It's like the screws have tightened and I am feeling stressed about it, again. My plan of psychological attack during the period will once again be "one day at a time".
Work wise, I have had a bit of unsettling news. I work in a few different locations, some job roles I like, one I don't. I have been looking to ditch the role I don't like, but just waiting for another job role to fill it. Gradually my role in another place has been expanding, under the supervision of a supportive boss who I admire. I had told him that I wanted to work more with him, and that I appreciated his mentorship.
Anyway, today I rolled up to do some work and researchy things. I went and said g'day to this boss's secretary. She looked upset, and asked me what scope I had to do further work. She then went on to explain that the boss was sick, the exact nature of the illness unclear, and he asked me to fill one of his roles while he was undergoing treatment which would take at least some months.
The potentially good opportunity for me to do some good work (and ditch what I don't want to do), and do my mentor proud, is wrapped up in the very shitty news that he is ill and may not even be around to mentor too long. I can't imagine what he must be going through.
I've learned that life does not often look like what we thought it would. The extension of that is that good opportunities, rather than being presented on a silver platter, are sometimes wrapped up in dirty newspaper.
I've also learned that being an adult is hard. The older we get, the more we hear about illnesses, divorces, loss. We are dodging bullets. We hope that one does not hit us, as we see people close to us fall. There is often very little sense to how and who the bullets hit. All we can do is live our best life.
With this in mind, I have come up with a set of NY resolutions that do not involve slimming. I wrote these a little while ago.
1. To (definitely) visit Wilson’s Prom and Far North Queensland. Maybe also Europe, Galapagos amd Costa Rica (depends...)
2. To draw a picture once per week, or write things.
3. To always have nicely groomed eyebrows
4. To see a fillum one a month, at a proper cinema
5. To give others more compliments and encourage them.
6. To give myself more compliments
7. To be patient with myself, practice things I am not good at or that are time consuming but important, and just plug away and not worry how long it’s taking. To be in love with the process rather than the outcome.
8. To wear more bright lipsticks
9. To eat and relish fruit and veg in season
10. To keep my hands well moisturised and free of too much callus (life of a crossfitter...)
11. To ensure my footwear mostly meets the brief of stylish but comfortable
12. To keep a list of things to do if I feel bored/stressed
13. To do 5 minutes of decluttering per day because it is legit good for the soul.
14. To say yes to fun things.
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