The good bad news is that the number is falling on its own. Down from 642 to 618. Big relief! Scan on Monday morn to double check errant embryo is not embedded where it shouldn't be, i.e. tube or anus. Off to have some wahn to celebrate!
Oh! Hahahaha! Just read the first comment and realized that you might think we had THAT kind of sex! No no, don't be silly! We are married for goodness sake! Married people don't even have sex, never mind do that kind of stuff!
I was sitting in the lounge tonight in my exceptionally unsexy towelling bathrobe and my fluffy slippers, sipping on my wine and tapping away at my laptop when Marko pipes up, "I can't believe I ended up with someone like you"
WHAT, I said, WHAT! What do you mean?
What the fuck is that thing against your nose, he asked.
It's a piece of tissue paper, I replied piously. My glasses are broken and the metal thing is poking into my nose. And you should be SO LUCKY that you are married to someone like me!
And so he should. Where else is he going to get a slightly older, barren, undomesticated goddess like me! The ungrateful little fucker. On a positive note, I am feeling quite strong. Am feeling all zen about this almost pregnancy. What's meant to be is meant to be and all that shit. All my pregnancy symptoms have disappeared, making me rather hopeful that tomorrow's beta will reveal a neatly falling HCG count, indicative of things like natural miscarriages and unruined holidays.
On an even more positive, I am featured in the New York Times
today. I'm practically famous!
PS Please don't be alarmed at the size of the crevices on my forehead. All donations to the Give That Woman Some Botox fund gratefully accepted.
PPS Thanks for all your supportive comments. You make me feel all warm inside. Like wine.
have been fairly interesting of late. Let me back track to two weeks ago. I had been suffering from a pain in my left ovary that had gone from
slightly worrying to ‘omg I am going to die’. Which is my world takes anywhere
between two weeks and two seconds.
what was CD66 of my cycle (don’t you just love those PCOS cycles), I took
myself off to the doctor to have a scan of my bits. After much poking and prodding, the doctor
declared that it didn’t appear to be anything more ominous than a bit of
blocked bowel. In other words, I was
literally and figuratively ‘full of shit’. She prescribed a suppository to get things going and asked whether I wanted
to have a ‘peace of mind’ CA125 test. To rule out the ‘omg I am going to die’
factor. I said yes please. And because once an addict, always an addict,
I decided to throw in a little progesterone test along the way.
results came back that I wasn’t dying and that I had indeed ovulated. (prog = 42) Surprise surprise. By this time
the ovary pain had subsided as had my obsessing.
that until this weekend, when the thought occurred to me that if I had ovulated,
then I should have had my period by now. Which got me thinking. What
if. Surely not! It can’t be! But what if!
456,000 conversations in my head, I decided to email the divine Dr H to ask him
whether a progesterone count of 42 always indicated ovulation and if ovulation
had occurred, whether one’s period should arrive 14 days later and whether it
was scientifically possible that maybe I could be pregnant. Hypothetically and
scientifically speaking, of course.
back with “go get a blood test:
To which I
replied, “don’t be silly, I am infertile”. What a terrible waste of money.
on Monday. By Monday afternoon, which
was also a rather impressive CD79, I was driving myself crazy. So I bought a HPT. Which came up immediately with two
lines. PREGNANT! What the fucking fuck. How could this happen. I sent the divine Dr H a text message to tell
him. To which he replied, “go get a
blood test”. This time I complied.
I got the
results back on Tuesday morning. Beta =
532, prog = 32. Which could have meant
(a) I am pregnant (b) I was pregnant, but am now miscarrying or (c)
Ectopic. The only way to know would be
to do another test 48 hours later.
scared, happy, sad, nervous, freaked out. Marko’s first words were “but it’s impossible”, I replied “I KNOW!!” He immediately got out his measuring tape and
measured the spare room and I IM’ed Julie
for an hour. We both have our different ways of coping.
spent the last two days feeling a million different emotions. At 4:30pm today, exactly 48 hours after the first
blood test, I had another one taken. This time I marked it ‘urgent’. I have just got the results back.
over. I am not even sure what the number
was, all I heard was six hundred and something and I knew it was over. The doctor muttered something about there
being a very small chance that it could work out, but I told her quite firmly “no,
it’s over. I’ve done this enough times to know”. This is my sixth pregnancy. I know how these
things work. (For those who don’t
know how these things work, the number should have been around a 1000. 600 and something clearly isn’t anywhere
close to a 1000)
biggest fear is that it is ectopic. I
will be very very cross if it is. It is
one thing to get a total mindfuck with a surprise pregnancy, it is another
thing to have to go through that horrible methotrexate
thing again. (Methotrexate is a chemo drug that is also used for ectopic
“Methotrexate may cause very serious side effects. Some side
effects of methotrexate may cause death. You should only use methotrexate to
treat life-threatening cancer, or certain other conditions that are very severe
and that cannot be treated with other medications. Talk to your doctor about
the risks of taking methotrexate for your condition.”
assures me that her official diagnosis is “not ectopic” as my progesterone was
ok. I’m holding her to it.
Friday to check that the number is going down on its own (i.e. miscarrying naturally).
If it goes up slightly like it did this week, then it is probably ectopic. I am
going away on holiday next Friday and I REFUSE to be messing about with betas
and injections. I will make them give me
the metho right there and then.
believe this shit!!! I have THE worst
luck when it comes to reproduction.
it now. I am totally done. This has
convinced me that I am done having children. I really can’t do this again. I
am going on the pill. It is exactly a
year ago when I had that spontaneous pregnancy and the whole thing is getting
very old now. As are my eggs, as am I.
positive note, I got pregnant by having sex! For the second time! Which just
proves my point that sex is a very dangerous thing to do and we should restrict
it to once a year only. For safety’s sake.
years, much to my husband’s dismay, I’ve posted some pretty risqué stuff on
this blog. Not for any particularly evocative
reason, but I’ve always taken the attitude that if you could see it in a bikini
on the beach, then surely it can’t be too much to be shameful about. We all
have boobs, ass
what’s the big deal. The biggest risk
was that I would sorely disappoint some spotty youth when his surreptitious search
for boobs and blow jobs netted him my blog. What a screaming disappointment.
until I got this email.
Hello from an American who
loves to go barefoot
Hello, my name is (male name)
and I reside in the state of (xxx). More specifically, a small town called (xxxx).
I came across your site, www.tertia.org, and
your address after typing the words "I love to go barefoot" on the
Yahoo! search bar.
First, allow me to say that it's an honor to be able to send a message to
someone where bare feet really rule. In the last two years, I've had communication
with barefooters from Australia and New Zealand. But let's get real. If you
want to see boatloads of bare feet, or at least get in touch with people where
bare feet is routine, Africa's the place!
You may find this question odd, but do you prefer to look a certain way when
barefoot? I do. More specifically, I like to bare my calves when I bare my feet.
If I'm not wearing shorts, I'll roll my long pants up to my knees.
My favorite things to wear barefoot:
Pants - black khakis and black sweat pants rolled up to the knees
Shirts - a blue dress shirt with sleeves rolled up just above the elbow, an
olive green T-shirt and a gray T-shirt
Here's a question that's not so odd. What's your most favorite barefoot
activity? Believe it or not, I like to do things physically excruciating.
Anything where sweating, grunting and heavy breathing is required.
My most grueling barefoot activity:
Mowing my grandmother's lawn. I did so twice 11 years ago. The first time, I
wore a green short-sleeved shirt and black rolled-up pants. The second time, I
wore a green T-shirt and black rolled-up sweat pants.
Whether or not you have an answer to either of these questions, I'd like to
hear from you. Gotta go. Dinner's almost ready.
Thank you for your time.
I think I
read that email about 7 times, trying to figure out what the hell he was on
about, and then I got it! He must be one of those foot fetish people, people
who get turned on by feet! Foot porn! Who
is one of the funniest, and strangest, emails I have ever received. And I get A
LOT of emails.
would appear that the tits and ass left them cold, it was the foot porn that really
got them going.
have bad news. I haven’t been able to
tell you all because I actually can’t bear to admit to myself what absolutely
revolting bad luck this is.
before the UK release of my book, the publisher
has gone into liquidation. ONE MONTH. The deal is off. After being THIS
close to eventually getting it released overseas, we are back to square one.
the news really badly. So so
disappointed. My book is about my
incredible bad luck when it came to trying to have a child, and so it seems
inordinately unfair that the book should suffer the same fate too.
back to square one: cap in hand, looking for another publisher. My agent is going to try again but if any of
you have contacts with someone Influential and Important in the publishing
world, tell them to PLEASE have a look at my book. Offer to give them a blow job in return. You
know I’d do it for you!
I am really thankful that I don't suffer from headaches. I get them occasionally (seldom) and when I do, I can't imagine that there are people out there who live like this every day. I don't know how they cope.
My BF and business partner* Friend Mel suffers quite badly from headaches. She gets them every now and then and when she does, they last for almost a week and just about completely knock her out. She say she usually gets them on one side, kind of behind her eye and it feels like her head is in a vice grip which is slowly being turned tighter and tighter.
I know there are a million different causes for headaches, but I thought I would poll you anyway. Anyone got any tips, advice, remedies or potions that help for a headache? I feel really sorry for my poor friend. Mel said she heard chewing on ginger helped. I told her perhaps if she
put some up her bum it might work faster. She didn't think that was
*PS Our egg donor business is going really, REALLY well. I am on cloud 9. Our website is up and running and we are going full steam ahead. Well, we were until this nasty headache felled my friend. Which is why we need a cure. Our business depends on it ;-)
PPS I've created a Facebook page for Nurture Egg Donors, please become a fan!
parents were first married, my dad used to be the one in charge. The head of the household. Although my dad is very liberal in many ways,
the roles he and my mom played were pretty traditional. He worked and when he came home my mom had
some lipstick on, the four of us children were bathed and in our pajamas and
supper was almost done. Our dad used to
be the Strict One and my mom would regularly threaten us with “just wait until
your father gets home”. But over the
years we began to realize that actually my dad was the one with the soft touch
and if he said no, there was a chance you could cry / beg / plead for him to
change his mind. Whereas with my mom, you could stand on your head and whistle
through your arse, there was NO WAY you were going to get a ‘yes’ out of
her. Cold, unfeeling heartless mother
;-) Only joking, you know how much I
adore my mother.
with the realization that dad was the softy, we always knew he was in
charge. Well, that was up until about 10
years ago when slowly, slowly, my mother subtly switched roles until she now calls
the shots and my poor father complains to us that “you know, your mother bosses
me around all the time”.
Here is your list of chores to do, you can either do them on Saturday morning
or on Sunday.”
hang that picture for me. No, a little
you don’t actually like that dish. Here, eat this, it’s your favourite”.
believe how my mother ‘makes’ my father do things, and even worse, how she doesn’t
seem to feel bad about it at all. I
personally think it is wonderful that after 40 years of marriage, she has him
so well trained. It might have taken a while, but just look at the results!
have to develop that skill. Making my
husband do things, and even more importantly, not caring if he moans. I’m getting better though. Especially when it comes to helping out with
the kids. (Marko is very good at DIY and I never have to ask him to do any of
that, he does it himself)
first few years after the kids were born, I wouldn’t ask.
I figured if he really wanted to do the chore he would volunteer and if he didn’t
volunteer then he clearly hated me and the kids and so stuff him. Ok, not exactly, but I wasn’t going to ask
for help. Stupid huh. (Please note that he didn’t sit around
idly, but I often wished he would just take the kids for a morning, or bath
they got bigger, I started asking him to do more kid chores. And he did it, but
not with great enthusiasm. Which made me
think ‘stuff you, I’ll do it myself’. Talk about cutting your nose off to spite your face.
kids are now three years old and I need some time on my own. So every Sunday morning I ask him to please
take the kids out for two hours and give me time to do some email / blogging /
personal things. He does it, but not
without an exaggerated sigh or a slight rolling of the eyes. AND IT DRIVES ME CRAZY!! I know he does it
mostly to wind me up, and like my mom, I should just not care, but it gets on
why I can’t wait to be like my mom. Make them do the chores and just don't
I am so
tempted to say ‘well, if it is THAT much of a hassle, don’t do it’, but I need
my time and its good for him to spend time alone with the kids. He works so long and hard during the week, he
hardly sees them.
tackled him before about this and he says he is just doing it to wind me
up. But why does he do it!!! And why do I care so much!!!
him to VOLUNTEER to do the kid chores. I want him to say “sweetheart, let me
take the kids out for the afternoon, you stay behind and catch up on your blog,
emails, egg donor business, IBM stuff, writing etc”, I don’t want exaggerated eye
rolling and wringing of hands.
Sister Mel is quite
good at this. She makes her husband do chores
too, and mostly doesn’t mind too much about the moaning and ‘poor me’ attitude
she sometimes gets back. But even she sometimes takes the high road (‘fine! I’ll
do it then’) instead of the right road (make him do it and just don’t care). And she has been married for less time than I
have! I know I shouldn’t care, but I do.
only took my mom 40 years to get it right. I’ve been married for 8 years this
month, so I only have another 32 years to go.
note that Marko is FAR from a lazy husband. This weekend he has done several DIY jobs around the house, went out to
get take outs etc etc. Plus he is being very
loving etc, and I really am quite fond of him. I just wish there would be more enthusiasm and less eye rolling when it
came to kid chores.
Please note: This blog
post was written in the peace and quiet of an empty house. I’ve dispatched Marko off with my in laws and
the kids to the Play Place. He might moan, but he does listen. Eventually.
I drive a
It’s a great car, a real ‘mom’s car’. It
is not a big gas guzzler, but is big enough to fit in a few children plus their
various paraphernalia. It has millions
of little cubbyholes
and cool things like tray tables, separate individual
seats in the back etc. Plus it drives like a dream. I really love my car, but every 15,000 kilometers
I am reminded how much I absolute hate Renault and how I will never, ever buy
another Renault again. Their after sales
service SUCKS! I’ve had my car serviced four times and ever single time I’ve
had THE most frustrating and unpleasant experience.
weeks or so ago, my car told me it was time for a service. It has a computer
thingy that knows when it is time have its bits checked. So I called the main Renault location to book
my car in for a service. After the 75th
ring, the phone was eventually answered. The conversation went something like this: