Possibilities, probabilities and fertilities

We saw the ob/gyn instead of the fertile nurse. The pregnant waiting room was thankfully empty of pregnant women and there were only two other couples waiting in the fertility clinic.

My hormones are working, all levels are "good" to "great". I am ovulating well. Lots of follicles. My FSH level isn't a worry. I'm not even peri-menopausal yet.We are both "normal".

Phew. And wow. And possibly whoop.

On the other hand;

We're not pregnant yet.

There will be no IVF unless we win the lottery. And we rarely play the lottery.

There might be clomid, but I would need to lose some weight for that to be more effective and even so, I AM ovulating normally so it might be pointless.

My eggs are 42 years old. No really? Does that mean I might have an exceptionally mature child? No? Just that the odds aren't in our favour.

In a "last ditch attempt" after "trying everything" we might remove the fibroids, which are tiny now, they aren't in the womb cavity and "probably" aren't the reason we haven't conceived again yet and "probably" aren't the reason for "your earlier problems" ... hmmm... not sure how to take that last one, I think "earlier problems" refers to the bleeding I had during pregnancy and not to losing George. I hope so. Cos, you know, he's so much more than that. Anyway it would mean open surgery as opposed to laparoscopic surgery with weeks of recovery time and no guarantee that the possibility of scarring won't make things worse.

There was great news there but I still ended up filling up with tears in the clinic and having a good old cry in the car after. I wasn't expecting to see her for a start. The one who poked me with needles in delicate places and confirmed George's death with the portable grainy ultrasound that showed him slumped still and low in my womb. It brought it all back. Again. Every time I go back to the Maternity department I almost-but-not-quite manage to keep it together.

So. Lots of probably's and maybe's and possibly's. We keep trying. We think about fibroid surgery in three months or so but I'm already thinking no and Ray hates the idea of me going through major surgery. We think about being pregnant again. We think about not succeeding. We hope. We think about how long we can continue hoping. But we don't set a limit. Not yet.

We concentrate on the good news.

And "possibly" some chocolate therapy.

Brand new shiny pretty things

I have been so uninspired lately when it comes to jewellery making but I sat myself down and just started playing... more bracelets to come, I think.

And a keyring that could be a necklace that makes a nice gift for a man.

 This was the last key ring I made.

I've even been eying with interest the huge pristine still-wrapped canvas hiding behind the wardrobe... I'm thinking of blues and greens and spring and gardens... I wish my son was here to finger paint with... it's been a L O N G time since I felt like painting. I mean 2 1/2 years. Some of my paintings and photographs can be found here. The last painting I made was a gift for Ray's birthday when we first got together. A one metre birthday card. Does love suck the inspiration from you? Can't be that, surely... I have six blank canvases hidden in various places waiting and waiting...

What inspires you?

Treasure

g is for...

I found this on a beach today. I was rather excited.
It's now sitting on my bedside table
I might have to go and have another look at it in a minute.
No, it's not a 9 or a 6. It's a g. Yup.
Of course I don't really believe in signs...
Of all the pebbles on all the beaches.

My physio is a sadist

And she's such a sweet young thing too*.

"See if you can do this..."
"Owww!"
"Try and get it a little higher..."
"Ooooow"
"Ok, now try this..."
"Aaaargh"
"Try and stretch your arm up and hold..."
"Ghuumph"
"Bend it this way..."
"Mmmgmgmgm"
"And relax..."

"And repeat these new exercises along with the stretches each day. Come and see me in two weeks and I'll stretch you on the rack for a while. Yes, pain is normal. Pain is good. I love pain. Mwahahahhaaha"

So far 2010 has been the year of pain and strange noises. Next week we go to see the Fertile Nurse, let's hope it will also be the year of good news... or at the very least, not bad news.

xxx

*Doesn't that make me seem old?
Have you noticed how young policemen are these days?
And why does everyone mumble on tv these days?

The "D" word.

Things aren't so great.

My feet hurt to buggery with these new and improved orthotics. It seems that the podiatrist and the orthopedististist don't agree on what on earth is wrong with my feet. Podiatry think it's arthritic and I need to wear shoes that prevent my toes from bending (expensive walking shoes) and orthopedics think it's something else and I need to "manipulate" my toes daily to get the movement back and wear this new made to measure thang that allows my big toe some movement. I absolutely have to try this just in case it works but... Click ouch ow clack ooh crunch ooh owwwwa.

The podiatrist showed me the xrays of my feet and there on the screen was a list of all our ultrasounds. A sort of medical "My photo album". I was so tempted to ask.

:::

My shoulder isn't better yet and despite the daily gentle physio exercises and stretches I still can't lift my arm above my head or undo my bra from behind my back. It's annoying. I want it fixed.

:::

I want it all fixed.

:::

The benefit I receive because of my inability to cope with work due to my depression* since losing George is now in question because the retired Dr who assessed me for half an hour and made those insensitive comments thinks there's nothing wrong with me, despite the fact that I cried through out the interview, apart from trouble walking or standing too long and "some ankle pain"... ummm... I don't have ankle pain, I've never complained of ankle pain, what ankle pain!!!!???? So I have to go in front of a tribunal and appeal. Ugggh. How do I explain that while I'm sort of ok and getting more ok, that ok-ness doesn't yet extend to a work environment. It will, and probably soon but not quite yet. Oh yes, date of that decision? 20 October 2009. Almost as if they were saying, "That's it. You've had one year exactly, now buck up and get on with it."

Sigh.

I wish it was that easy.
 
:::

I don't have any friends left from work. Even the one who was SO wonderful last year has stopped texting. That last sentence is untrue. I have Ray. We met at work. Light of my life.

Some friends are forever but some friendships are fleeting. They are a profound or intense presence for a while and then one or both of you moves on. Clinging to stale friendships is pointless but sometimes it's hard when you are the one left behind. Learning to let go is a goal.

:::

I haven't been a good commenter lately (again) and for that I'm sorry (again).

:::

It's cd 9 and I'm trying to find the nerve to think about yet another chance at being a mother.

:::

This month I'm sewing seeds to fill our garden with wild and not so wild flowers. I'm going to sew some forget-me-not and heartsease seeds in our garden and in George's wood because I like the names. Before and after pics might be in order. I have bluebell seeds in the fridge and a propagator on the kitchen table.

I can't wait for spring.

:::

Sometimes the light takes my breath away. That orange strip is the same colour as the foreground.

xxx


*I don't write under the title depression here, partly because it's a bit like the monster under the bed; big and scary, but if you pull the covers up and keep your arms tucked inside it can't get you. i.e. I'm trying to ignore it and hope it goes away. And partly because I don't like labels and I think it's a natural reaction to the trauma of losing George and the horror of my hospital stay after the hideously horrid hemorrhaging a week after and the stress of the infection from hell lasting four months after that so it doesn't need singling out for special treatment with a name. It just is and it's being dealt with.

One day, I'd quite like to hear "Your baby died over a year ago and you're not still depressed/traumatised/grief stricken?"

Angel

Please extend a gentle welcome to Angel's Mummy who lost her Angel on 27th December 2009 and could do with lots of hugs.

xxx

Thank you Birni

Wishing you all a peaceful and loving day.

Today and every day.

Thank you Birni for thinking about us and our George.

It's perfect.

I have just sown hundreds of flower seeds in my propagator so we can do just this.

I shall print it and place it in George's little box.

Thank you.

Belief, feet, trees, the A word and kittehs

I'm not pregnant this month. Nasty colds and trying to make a baby don't sit together easily so I never expected to be expecting and I won't be bothering testing.

And you know what, apart from a brief couple of days of the gloomy grumps around my fertile time, which coincided with our most sneezy, snotty, achy, grotty, unromantic time, I have been quite relaxed about it all. I haven't been dreaming and planning and hoping after every tiny possible twingy maybe symptom. It's been different, which is probably a good thing. Maybe.

This month we are going back to visit the fertile nurse.

I'm starting to believe that it won't happen.

I need to believe that it will.

***

I'm having new orthotics made to measure next week. Hopefully they will make it easier to walk further as we have a list of places to go to not least of which is an ancient oak forest on Dartmoor. And walking is good for the soul, if not for the sole... bwahaha... ha... huh... whatever

***

I'm going to take a sleeping pill tonight because my rule (that I have conveniently made up in time to blog about it) is; two nights without sleep = one night of pill-sleep. Unless it's during the two week wait in which case; first day of period = two nights of pill-sleep, unless I get some good sleep before my period and I'm not crying a river, in which case... ah you get the general idea. I don't like taking sleeping pills, even the mildest of the mild sleepy antihistamines that Dr Compassion prescribes.

***

I spoke to my Dad this morning and he asked me how was "the feller you work with" meaning Ray of course. "He's a really nice chap". Yes Dad, he is.

***

I forgot to show you our kittehs first foray into the snow. In which you can see Ray drag them away from the back back garden and me squeaking in an absurdly high voice. They are normally allowed out there but we were about to go out ourselves and we don't leave the kittehs to roam while we're out. I'm still not easy about letting them wander and I know it's a side-effect from losing George but they do get to go out and at least I'm ok with Ray wandering going out now without imagining horrible mangling accidents. At this rate kittehs should be wandering free by 2012. I know, I don't know why I feel the need to explain, pathetic isn't it.

Have a lovely weekend.

And if it's been a while, tell someone that you love them.

Enjoy.

Kitties first foray in the snow @ Yahoo! Video

The sound of a hundred thousand wings beating

To continue with the bird theme.

We drove an hour and a half to watch the starling spectacle yesterday evening at Shapwick Heath.

Flocks a thousand strong joined together to make one massive flock that swooped and wheeled about the sky before disappearing to roost in the trees.

It was a quiet, wild place and all we could hear was the sound of thousands and thousands of wings beating the air.

It was a magical sight.

That probably doesn't show up too well on video, but ya gotta try!

Starlings @ Yahoo! Video

This fellow seemed to be waiting for the show to begin too.

As the sun set, the birds disappeared and so did we along with all the other daft folk who drove into the middle of nowhere to watch a bunch of birds!

We did stop off on the way to see the starlings to make a cup of tea and eat a piece of my mums fruit cake and there was just enough time for a declaration of love.

Because it's important to declare it, isn't it?