So Close

DIH

I was single before I met Marko. I spent most of my 20’s single (note ‘single’, not ‘celibate’). In fact Marko was my first long term relationship. My longest relationship before that was 10 months. What can I say; I have a very short concentration span. 

 Because I was single, I had no one to do any of the traditional ‘boy’ jobs; I had to do them all. And so I did, really well. I could change light bulbs, put on plugs, screw and unscrew things. I could programme VCR’s and install software on my computer. No problem! I even had my own screwdriver and hammer. How v modern woman of me.

 And then I met Marko and slowly an unofficial division of labour settled in. It was never a conscious decision, but I kind of took on the inside chores and he took on the outside / DIY chores. And slowly my DIY skills have dwindled to almost non-existent. 

 It’s not that I can’t do it as much as why bother doing it if there is someone who does it even better than you do? Why bother doing DIY if you can DIH?

 Marko is really skilled with DIY stuff. You know how some people can do DIY and some people just can’t? He can do it, really well. Plus he has a really big toolbox. In fact he has three. He is good with tools. Which is very handy and saves us quite a bit of money. Although it does add to his aggravation factor. He doesn’t like it when my reaction to every situation is ‘can’t you fix it*’, followed by ‘but why not?’ I do it to annoy him. He deserves it.

 He pretends not to like doing DIY, but I am sure that deep down he secretly does. Which is why I make him do all the DIY stuff. It’s all about his self-esteem. What a selfless, giving person I am.

 And being the selfless, giving person I am, I volunteer his DIY services to other people as well. It would be very selfish to keep all of that marvellous skill to myself. My mother is famous for greeting us with “oh good Marko, I am so pleased you are here. You see that lamp over there …..”

 Anyone need their holes drilled or nails knocked in? Actually, that sounds rude. I didn’t mean it like that, but now that’s been said ……..Anyone?

 Poor Marko. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

 (BTW, he has been much better to me yesterday and today. I had a mini breakdown yesterday and since then he has been much better. Why are guys so dense sometimes? Do we have to S P E L L it out for them?)

 * I’ve got that Bob the Builder tune stuck in my head now. Can we fix it, YES WE (he) CAN!

Calling all Cape Town wankers

(Thanks to one of the nicest wankers I know for posting this on his blog as well)

Hello there!   The Cape Fertility Clinic is desperately looking for a helping hand! They need sperm donors of all shApEs, SIzEs and color.  Please speak to the men in your lives – and if possible – please forward this email. 

 Contact Cape Fertility Clinic:

Gloria / 082 4888 466 / [email protected] / 021 683 1059

Kimenthra / [email protected] / 021 683 1059

A sticky eye and a swollen toe

Yes, well. Still waiting for the week to get better.

Friday afternoon and Saturday day have been particularly brutal but I am pleased to say that after copious amounts of wine and sushi (which I can do because I AM NOT PREGNANT), I am feeling a lot better emotionally. Let’s hope it stays that way. Those bad feelings were BAAAD.

 Physically….. well, beside my broken toe and sticky eye, oh and crampy womb, I am doing fabulously well.

 The crampy womb, well, that is going to take time to heal. Not terribly worried about that. To be expected etc.

 The broken toe (I don’t think it’s really broken, just fucking sore) happened today. Adam dropped a wooden coat rack thingy on my toe this morning. He got so upset when I yelped in pain (it was bloody sore!) that I had to pretend I was fine and console HIM! Marko laughed. Have I mentioned how not-fond I am of him (Marko) at the moment?

 Then, I have finally figured out what is wrong with my eyes. When I woke up from the anaesthetic, the skin under my eyes felt raw and sore. I remember rubbing it and thinking ‘ouch’. It has felt really tender and rough since the operation. I had no idea why. I have just figured it out. They must have taped my eyes shut for the procedure and some of that sticky shit has stayed behind. Lovely. I am not allergic as such to the tape, but my skin doesn’t like it. I always pull the surgical tape off as soon as I can or else I get red welts.

 I’ve never had this before (although this was a new hospital I went to), how do I get rid of the sticky stuff without having to take a scrubbing brush to the sensitive and some what wrinkly skin under my eye?

 I swear, if I wasn’t sitting here with a hot throbbing toe and my hospital bills next to my laptop I would think I was making this shit up. CAN THIS WEEK JUST BE OVER PLEASE!

Trying to rest: Impossible

Not so fine

Today’s probably been my hardest day. I think I’ve been a little numb up until now. Actually, I’ve been surprised at how ‘fine’ I’ve been until today. Everyone keeps asking me how I am, and this whole week I’ve been saying “fine. I really am fine”. 

 Today I feel not so fine. I think I overdid it a little today. I am sore. Sore and bloated. And sad. I feel sad today. Really sad. And I don’t like being sad. I’ve did sad for a long time, I don’t want to be sad anymore.

 I am angry at Marko for not being soft enough to me. He thinks he needs to be tough and strong so that I don’t break down. He thinks that if he shows softness it will make it worse because I might cry. And if I cry then it’s not good. He doesn’t understand that crying is good sometimes. And that right now I need him to be soft, not hard.

 I suppose I am being unfair. I’ve been so fine up until now, how is he supposed to know that I don’t feel so fine now. 

 I don’t feel like being fair. I am sad and angry. And he is the closest person around.

 Dammit. I hate feeling like this. I think I need to go take some pain pills and go to sleep. Hopefully I will feel better when I wake up tomorrow.

 Hopefully. I want to be fine again. I don’t like being not so fine.

Book Review - A Running Start

Before the whole pregnancy/loss debacle, I offered to participate in the Mother Talk “Running Start” book tour. I was schedule to do my review yesterday, but well, you know.

 When Andi contacted me with a list of four books that were up for review, I knew imm ediately that this was a book I would be interested in reading. And not just because included in the other options was a book on organic cooking for your kids. For someone who considers ketchup as a food group and microwave fries as home cooking, that was clearly not a book I was going to love reading.

 However, I knew I would enjoy Rae Pica’s latest book, A Running Start: How Play, Physical Activity, and Free Time Create a Successful Child (Marlowe & Co., 2006).

 I have always been a big believer in allowing children to be children. I believe that childhood is a precious time, a time too fleeting and a time to be protected. We are forced to grow up too quickly in today’s modern times. And a big part of being a child is play.

 I was horrified to read in Rae’s book about the Super Kid phenomenon.  About how children as young as 3 and 4 are pushed into 4 or 5 extramural activities a week. About how competitive parents are and about how it is all about being the cleverest, the fastest; the top of your class. Even more horrifying is reading how schools are cutting back at things like recess to fit in more academic activities. It is sickening. What are we doing to our children? What happened to play?

 I am so pleased I have read this book, and it couldn’t have come at a better time for me. I am in the process of looking at a crèche for my kids, and the book’s central theme has really reinforced my belief that the right school for my kids is one that focuses on the whole child, and not just the academic or structured aspects.

 This is such an important book. A book that every parent and educator should read. And certainly every policy maker. I wish I had more time to say more about it, but as you know, it’s been a crappy week for me. I just didn’t want to not tell you about it.

 Running Start is a very informative, balanced book and you would be doing yourself and your children a great service by reading it.

 Please have a look at the Mother Talk site for other blogger’s reviews on Running Start.

 Read more about the book here

 

About Rae:
Rae Pica is a children's physical activity specialist and the director and founder of Moving & Learning: The Movement Education Specialists. She is the author of numerous books, columns, and articles on children and movement, and is a consultant for companies including Sesame Workshop, Gymboree, and Nickelodeon's Blues clues.

Reading the signs

Well, I’ll take that as a sign then? (And no, I am not talking about the git unit, although I am sure I would fit in nicely there as well)

 Funnily enough, today was a lot harder physically than emotionally. Emotionally … well, I really have made peace with what has happened. I am not sure if the mental and emotional fall out is still coming (I don’t think so, I really do feel fine), but for now I am just glad that it is over. 

 Physically however, my god, did that suck. 

 I took two cytotec last night and this morning I thought I was going to haemorrhage to death. Revolting. I googled cytotec and guess who appears at position number 3 on the results page? That asshole friend of mine Julie! You’d think she could have warned me. Whore. 

 Anyway, blah blah bleeding to death etc. Then, to add insult to injury, they put me in a bed next to a woman who snored louder than my husband did last night!* How completely annoying. I went in early to rest and I get a snorer as my neighbour. Life can be incredibly unfair sometimes. 

 The procedure itself went fine. It isn’t pleasant, but it’s bearable. Apparently the doctor managed to get some tissue, hopefully enough to run some tests on. I have been thinking about whether I want to know what the sex of the embryo was. I think I want to know. It helps with closure. 

 So, that was my Thursday. Not a whole lot better than Mon, Tues or Wed. Let’s hold thumbs Friday makes up for the rest of the week.

 * Marko is SUCH as asshole. I don’t like to wake him up with a fright at night, so when he snores (which, to be fair, isn’t often), then I will softly say “snoring!” I usually have to say it a few times for him to register and then he mostly just grunts and turns over. Which is usually enough to stop the snoring. So last night, after the third “snoring!” he wakes with a start and says “what”. I repeat “snoring” and he replies “who?” Who? Who do you think you idiot, the guy behind you? The neighbour? YOU, you asshole! YOU are snoring. Now roll over and sleep quietly. 

 This sharing a bed thing is for the BIRDS! Hate sharing a bed. Hate it.

Morticia does the nightshift

What a week this has been, and its only Wednesday! I can quite confidently say this hasn’t been the best week of my life. I’ve had better.

Monday started off spectacularly well with that lovely scan, followed on by my poor dog Chilli having to undergo surgery to remove a tumour from her leg. Thank goodness (several hundred dollars later), the operation seems to have been a success and the tumour was removed. We are waiting for the biopsy results.

We got reprimanded by the vet because Chilli is overweight. I’ve been telling Marko for years that the dog is fat but he won’t hear a word of it. He keeps saying ‘she is not fat; she is just big-boned’. Well, now it’s official. She is fat, not big-boned. She is going on a diet as from next week. Poor Chilli. She really does have a rather unfortunate figure.

 Then yesterday afternoon (yesterday? feels like a month has gone by in the last 24 hours) Kate woke up with a high temperature. I called the Paed whose receptionist said the first appointment was on Thursday. No my dear, you don’t seem to understand. My child is sick. I need to see the doctor TODAY. She mumbled something about after hour charges and I assured that I did not care how much it costs; I needed to see the doctor today. I know my children, and I know when they need a doctor. She told me to come in and wait. An HOUR later (long time to wait in the waiting room with a sick child) I saw the doctor. I brought Adam with me because I could see he was also looking a bit off.

 They both have enlarged, pussy tonsils (surprise, surprise), a bit of sinus infection and a bad ear.  ……About that grommet / tonsillectomy I was supposed to do in January ….. I am probably going to have to do it. But I will do one child at a time. The thought of two sick kids put me off.

 Anyway, that was that, another 30 minutes wait at the pharmacy while they use the world’s MOST antiquated computer software to enter my prescription and claim from my medical insurance. How many fields can you possibly enter on that screen? Honestly, I’ve never come across a more useless software application in my life.

 When we got home Kate was very hot and limp. I gave her a bum bullet (suppository) and she perked up a bit. Adam was very perky. Probably relieved he didn’t have to get something shoved up his bum. Antibiotics for both of them and into bed.

 I knew I was in for a bad night (only 1 glass of wine and no sleeping tablet! Which I can do now because you know, I am no longer pregnant. Sob) and at 11:30 I woke up with a start to the sound of Kate vomiting. I ran in to her room but it was too late. She has puked all over herself, the bed, the blankets, the dummy, the teddy, everywhere. Poor baby. She was so upset. And so hot! Boiling hot. So strip off every thing, into a tepid bath, sponge her off, and another suppository. I put her in the bed with me and eventually at 01:30am, she fell asleep.

 At 3:30am I woke up with her shaking. Shivering and shaking, and boiling hot again. More vomiting, but this time I managed to catch it. Strip off again, sponge down, another suppository (another kind). At that stage I thought enough is enough, and put some PJ’s on her, wrapped her up and drove to the hospital. (Where was Marko? Cleaning up the puke and stressing out terribly about his little girl).

(4:00am, Durbanville MediClinic)

 I had to go to casualty where a very sweet doctor told me that I had been doing the right thing by keeping her cool and working to get her fever down. They gave her some more medicine and an hour later we were discharged. We eventually fell asleep at 5am.

 Up at 7am, Kate much better, although not in a terribly good mood. I went to go clean up the last of the puke, give everyone their medicine and off to the doctor I go.

 It’s definitely over. No heart beat, no growth. I really am at peace with it.

 Back home, give the kids something to eat (drink in Kate’s case), put them down for a nap and went to sleep for two hours myself.

 This afternoon has been challenging, to say the least. Both Adam and Kate are miserable and sensitive and EVERYTHING is a drama. I’ve had to have hair on my teeth. They both have runny tummies from the antibiotics. So I’ve spent the last 24 hours elbow deep in poop and puke. Beautiful. But, the good news is that both of them seem ok, the fever is definitely over or on its way out.

 Which leads us up to tonight. It is 8:16pm and I’ve just poured myself a glass of wine. Aaahhhh. Bliss. I better only have one, just in case we have a repeat performance of the poop and puke show.

 Oh, and just before I go to bed, I have to insert something up my vagina to dilate my cervix in preparation for tomorrows ordeal. Which apparently may cause “bleeding and cramping”.

 You know, my life really isn’t a lot of fun right now.

 That’s ok. At least I have my new hair colour.

 Or not … that black hair thing was a bit of a mistake. Ok, a big mistake. I look Hideous Hilda! Horrible. Morticia Adams has nothing on me. At least she has the clear complexion. Somehow black doesn’t go that well with bleak and splotchy (how am I going to remove these pigmentation marks on my forehead??? It makes me feel so ugly(ier)). The colour will fade a little and hopefully won’t be so stark. Mental note to self. Do not go for hair appointment just after Bad News Scan. You WILL regret it.

 So, think of me tomorrow at 11:30am. Actually think of me the whole morning. I am not allowed to eat or drink until the op. Which is very stressful for me. I get terribly grumpy and actually quite ill if I don’t eat every few hours. I am thinking of waking up at 4am just to have one last snack.

 I’ll leave you with a pic of my Morticia look. Definitely not a good look Muriel.

 See you tomorrow or Friday.

 xoxoxox

PS If you've emailed me and I haven't responded, apologies. I am just a little overwhelmed at the moment and no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get through all that I have to do.  However, I do appreciate every email and comment. And yes, I do read them all.  They keep me going. 

The good, the bad and the ugly.

(I started writing this in a light hearted way. It was meant to be humorous. It has ended up being very dark. I’m sorry. I guess joking around and trying to act fine doesn’t always work. I am doing this post as an extended one, it has got so long.)

 I’ll start with the ugly.

 When I got pregnant this last time (my FIFTH pregnancy, how fucked up is that), a friend of mine who also did IVF to have her twins and then had a total surprise baby 2 years later, said to me "don’t you feel proud of your body!" And I realized that for the first time in years, I did feel proud of my body.

 I’ve never had a particularly good relationship with my body, but infertility killed what little love I had for it. During infertility I hated my body. I despised it. It had betrayed me in the cruelest way possible.  And I was trapped by it, slave to it. I couldn’t do it without it, and yet it kept failing me. And then I lost Luke and Ben. My body not only betrayed me, it killed my children.

We all have different ways of coping

9am. Chatting to an infertile friend of mine on MSN. She is waiting for her beta for her 7^th IVF.

 Tertia says:

guess where i am?

Friend says:

where?

Tertia says:

at the hairdresser having my hair dyed black

Friend says:

good for you.

Friend says:

I bought a BMW the last time....

Tertia says:

i would have preferred a BMW, but i have fuck all money.

Tertia says:

black hair will have to do. at least it matches my mood.