It's hard to be light hearted when you feel as if you have a lead weight in your chest.

Ray left this morning to paint a house and I ended up wailing on the bathroom floor. Not because he left; I'm glad he didn't see one more meltdown, he's seen enough. Wailing because I felt so sad. Too sad. I never realised exactly how much I wanted to be a mother until we lost our son. We always said "wouldn't it be nice if..." It was as if I felt all of the sadness of the last 10 months all in an instant. And it floored me.

I'm sick and tired of wanting. Remember when you were a kid and all the cool kids had that thing that was amazing and incredible and for a while it was the most important thing in the whole wide impossible uncontrollable world and nothing else would do and you begged and pleaded and bargained for it? That powerless powerful want. You know that want don't you, unless of course you were one of those cool kids that got everything first and best, in which case pffttthhht! (Not pffthhht at those of you that have that wonderful thing now of course.)

You see my period started yesterday. I thought it was due on tuesday because I thought I ovulated earlier, the peesticks told me so and I felt the usual twinge, I'm sure I did. Maybe I ovulated twice, maybe I need peesticks that are less sensitive, maybe it was a bad egg. So I hoped for three days. In fact entirely foolishly hoped, because the oh-shit-my-period-is-coming-fuck cramps started four days ago which seems to be my new normal these days so there shouldn't really have been any room for hope. Once again I am as regular as clockwork, cd 27. I suppose I should be comforted by that. I suppose.

So yeah, optimism shmoptimism indeed.

And just to let the universe know, I'm taking a break this next cycle. No, no, I am not giving up but right now I am too tired. I hereby declare: No peeing anywhere other than directly into the toilet. No counting the days. No trying and no symptom sorting. Just being. Just breathing. I want to offer up my next turn to Danielle, to Rachel, to Monique, to Bir and to anyone else out there trying and wanting. Fertility and conception vibes to be directed their way please.

Right now I'm tucking into a bag of pick-and-mix sweets. Too much sugar, too many calories, too much soursweet. I'm going to feel sick when I've finished but right now I don't care. I feel entirely 8 years old and powerless. I might even stamp my feet.

I'm going to pull myself together soon, find some heartburn medication and then get on with some jewellery orders.

Sarah and David

I'm thinking about you and Ezra today.

Wishing life was so different for you today.

Wishing love, light, peace and happiness your way.

Wishing all good things as you continue your path with your Sunflower boy.

Optimism shmoptimism

No I'm not quite there yet but the hormonal tears have dried up for now and I've been distracting myself by making bracelets.

I'm putting them up for sale in the next couple of days (hint). They are well and truly one of a kind, never to be repeated originals! (how am I doing with the sales talk?) They are made from recycled sterling silver chain, sheet and beads. I'm going to make a little "signature tag" to attach to them tomorrow to complete them. Well, not quite complete because they haven't been stamped with names, dates or messages yet!

Your opinions please!

On this one, the round tag says hope and the rectangular tag says peace, the heart is covered in love. The stones are onyx.

This one has a cut out rose that I originally made 20 years ago (!!!) as earrings! There is a leaf charm, a spiral charm and an amber charm.

I changed one of the stones on this, the first one I made. Moonstone and rose quartz. the round tag says hope and the heart says love.

This evening I feel satisfied that I can indeed create something.
(insert that-smily-that-has-a-lopsided-slightly-ironic-smile here)

PS does any one have a lucky fertility monitor that they don't need (whoop for you!) any more? Will pass it on when it's done it's job for me.


Oh, and I'm mostly ok. Thank you all for your messages of support and hugs. They are very much appreciated. Very much indeed.

The skin I'm in...

... doesn't fit any more.

Some days I look in the mirror and I don't recognise me. There's too much age; too much weight; there's a spark missing; I'm lacking in motherhood and there's too much sad in the eyes that stare back at the me that should be holding George.

Other days I feel more me than I ever did in my teens, twenties or thirties.

Admittedly these non-fitting days are days that usually have somewhere in the region of "14dpo" attached to them so I try not to pay too much attention to the hormone riddled, disappointed, bloated brain that over-thinks over-dramatic thoughts of this calibre. But still. There they are these thoughts, nudging, insisting and nibbling away at hope.

As soon as my period arrives, which I'm sure it will by Tuesday, after a huge rush of the "Waaaaah, why me's" I start to get over it, start planning, start hoping and start wishing again. It is just so very very tiring being a hostage to time.

And for now, if you don't mind, I feel like crying big fat hormonal tears. Feel free to look the other way and I'll be back shortly with some optimism.

Remembering Hope with love...

...and wishing so much that we didn't have to. I wish she was sleeping soundly in her beautiful room after a lovely birthday party filled with laughter and pretty things.

With love to Sally, Simon and little Thumper.

Facial readjustment needed

I popped into town alone today (in itself a feat of derring-do) and obviously had a vaguely panic stricken look to my face as when I came to pay for my disinfectant, silver polish, super glue, milk and bread (I have an exciting shopping list, no?) the shop assistant said,

"Cheer up luv, it might never happen."

"Oh it's already happened, it already has"

And with that, I gathered myself and my shopping together and trundled off, leaving the lady at the checkout with her own newly bemused expression. Walking home I stared into windows trying to catch sight of the face that looks as if something might happen.

Fairy lights and fossils.

After all the stress and darkness of the last few days I decided to remind myself of the good things.

Here are just some of them.

This is our mantelpiece. Fairy lights, fossils, a rose, sweet peas, chamomile, lavender and thyme in my Mum's old cottage jug, crystals (the glowy one is labradorite) and the 1950's clock I bought myself for my birthday with gift money (and my painting reflected in the mirror).

Big tomatoes surviving tomato blight.

Free blackberries from the bottom of the garden.

And more to come.

Beautiful sunsets.

Laughing catton.

Surprised catton.

Sleepy cattons keeping their Dad warm.

Wild ponies on Dartmoor.

That don't mind you getting close.

The rose we bought the day we collected George from the hospital. It smells so sweet.

Our little patch of dirt.

Space.

Making new things with space for names.

Funky?

Oh, and the most goodest thing of all good things?

You have to ask?

xxx

The visit

It was ok-ish. We waited in the waiting room in the early pregnancy/fertility unit, in the ultrasound department, in the maternity unit where we sat after my first bleed at 7 weeks with George. Where I cried at seeing his little heart fickering away. Where last year we heard someone coming out 0f their emergency ultrasound saying oh-so-matter of factly that it was dead and they were going to get it out.

I thought I was doing ok with all the questions until we started talking about "the baby" and if any tests had been done on "the baby" after "it died". I had a bit of a cry, slipped into the conversation that "the baby" had been called George, and he wasn't autopsied, then cried a bit more and had a cup of tea. Someone always seems to make us a cup of tea in the maternity unit.

The appointment was with one of the fertility nurses, rather than the ob/gyn. She now wants all the testing done before we see her. Okeydokey.

Blood tests, blood tests and more blood tests on different cycle days, of course. And just one teeny tiny "test" for Ray.

I need to lose weight. I know, I know, I know but not working and painful feet don't help. At least I've got the comfort eating under control again. Did I mention that had reared it's ugly head again? And don't be silly, I am not giving up chocolate. Ever.

The fertile nurse (as Ray called her) then told us that the very act of "handing over responsibility" for our fertility often lifts a lot of stress and sometimes has the desired effect, and we must tell them if we get pregnant at the end of this cycle because they will still ultrasound us at 6, 8 and 10 weeks before handing us over for consultant-led care. The desired effect. Wouldn't that be nice.

Talking about 6, 8 and 10 weeks reminded me that getting pregnant is only the first hurdle; the one I've been concentrating so hard on. So many others.

I think I ovulated early this month, cd 10 instead of cd 13, according to my pee-sticks.

Think those fertile thoughts for us will you?

Think us a baby will you?

And dear lovely Danielle and Rach. Offering me your "turns" was just about the most wonderfullest, kindest, loveliest gift I have ever received. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Love you.

Minutiae

I've been feeling pretty miserable for the last couple of days. Not sure why. Might be money worries (we got 'em). Might be possible, probable "independant" medical exam to prove I'm too sad to work (I think I am). It could be wishing, wanting, longing SO hard for a new baby and wishing, wanting, longing SO much for the one I can't have (I am I am I am). Whatever it is/was/will be all over again, it's easing off a bit. I don't like the dark place. It's exhausting.

Itteh bitteh kittehs became cattons and are now becoming cats. They are both draped around my macbook on my lap right now, trying to sit on it and I'm breaking up occasional bouts of wrestling. I like the warmth. Sketch keeps trying to scale the walls and leave the garden. It's not dangerous out there. I'm just not ready.

I had never even heard of Kibworth Harcourt in Leicestershire (pronunciation guide: Lester-sh'r) until that Live-Feed-who's-visiting-your-blog widget told me I lived there. I live about 180 miles from there. Technology doesn't always work.

This has grabbed my attention. The rhythm method?

I have been wondering why, at 42, forty two dammit, I still feel pangs of sibling rivalry. Need. to. let. that. go.

I have also been wondering why, at 42, forty two dammit to hell, I still don't feel like a grown-up and thinking maybe, yes, this is a good thing.

The real reason I don't want to be 42, fort... oh you get the picture, is that it's not exactly the best time to be revving up your reproductive system. Otherwise, I feel more me than I did at any other time in my life.

Why do cats insist on showing you their bottoms really close-up?

I have too many ideas running about in my head to let me get a good nights sleep. I would like my head to shut down and power off at around 11.30pm. Geek.

I want to make bracelets. Funky bracelets with silver and charms and names and cotton cord and I need to go and do that right now.

It is my turn for good news. Isn't it?

Dear universe

You are really starting to push your luck you know. There's only so much pain and loss you can dish out before something has to give.

I'm wagging my finger at you. Don't think I won't start shouting obscenities and shaking my fist.

I may even have to count to ten.

One more chance, and I'm giving you advance warning this time so there's no excuse. You have three, maybe four days to smarten up, get your act together and make things happen.

Really.

I mean it.

Sam

I would just like to add my love to that sent to Monique today.

I'm so sad that I had to meet you but so very glad I did.

Our garden was filled with butterflies today. We couldn't count them, there were so many. It was magical.

What a cock up

No no, nothing to do with Ray.

So, we got to the hospital just in time. Incidentally the infertility clinic is in the same place as the ultrasound department, naturally in the middle of the maternity unit, mercifully not filled with pregnant women this afternoon. Unfortunately some bright spark had changed my appointment to next wednesday because my ob/gyn was busy with an emergency. But did I want to see one of her "team?" Nope.

"We tried to call..."
"Yes, well, not much good when we were on our way, here have my cell phone number for next time."

Feeling slightly disgruntled but kind of sort of glad for an ob who will drop me for an emergency.

Off to Mars

Just getting ready to go to the hospital for my appointment (thank you for all your suggestions, I now have a long list!) but I wanted to share this first.

You can send your name to Mars with NASA by clicking on this link.

I don't know about you, but anywhere George's name can be written, it gets written!

Drawing on the collected wisdom of the sisterhood

So, dear ladies, I am off to see the ob/gyn again tomorrow, after popping in to have my blood taken to test my iron levels at Dr Compassion's surgery. What fun.

I had a general moan at Doctor Compassion on monday about my age and trying to conceive (and failing) and my growing paranoia concern that something might not be working and he whipped out his computer to see how long I would have to wait for an appointment (we're talking NHS [national health service] here, I had to wait 7 weeks for a podiatry appointment) and lo and behold wednesday was available. I was thinking of waiting another couple of months but hey ho.

So, any suggestions on what I should ask? I do want to know what the evilfibroids are doing because they seem to be twisting and tugging at something but apart from that what should/could I suggest? I'm not sure I'm ready for anything like clo.mid yet but as for testing, I'm open to almost anything!

Of course going back to the maternity unit, to the same floor I delivered George on for only the second time since we lost him might just leave me in an incomprehensible heap of tears on her floor, but I suppose she's used to that so I won't worry about making a fool of myself (or wear too much dark eyeliner).

Hormones 4 Barbara big fat zerO

I've peed on 3 sticks. My period was one day late. I must get a grip on this peeing on sticks too soon business (or buy lots of cheap sticks to pee on). I thought our timing was spot on this month but not, it seems, as far as hatching a ripe egg is concerned.
Excuse me for a moment while I sink into a black mood and then do my best to recycle it into optimism for the next round.

Oh, and Ppppffffttttt.

Day 1

The Secret Garden Meeting - July

The Secret Garden Meeting - July


How do you see or imagine your baby now that you do not have him with you?

Sometimes, when we are adventuring somewhere in the car, I look over my shoulder and half-glimpse from the corner of my eye, just out of view, the car seat, the sticky face and the dirty knees and half-hear the giggle of a contented little boy, but mostly George feels so very far away.

I miss the boy he would have been but I can't see him clearly now, even in a dream/daydream his face was blurred. He is almost not-real any more but to use a phrase from another lostbaby mum, the absence of his presence is everywhere.

How did the loss of your last pregnancy affect your choices/decisions about the birth of your subsequent pregnancy?

There is no other pregnancy as of now and I am terrified that there will be no other baby, no other pregnancy, no other hopeful and terrifying time. Realistically, I don't have too much reproductive time left and each time a cycle ends in a period (as it has this evening) it cracks open my heart a little bit more to think that my one tiny dead baby boy might be it.

Blooming

For Sarah, Sally and Carly.
Three beautiful women who touched my heart at the beginning of this journey of loss.

Wishing you love.

Wishing you peace.

Wishing you happiness.

Wishing you a safe and utterly boring pregnancy from now on.

And don't forget to share the pregnancy vibes around!