The Dicky Cervix

Mustache Monthly...June Addition

2007-06-02T19:57:00.000+10:00

Update.....7 whole months!!

2007-05-04T07:10:00.000+10:00

Subject: Update.....7 whole months!!

Hi everyone, yes....it's that time again....I'm sure I'll get sick of doing these updates soon, I'm surprised I've persevered for as long as I have to be honest.
Anyway...where was I... Oh that’s right.... T’s update...
So it’s 7 months today.... 30 whole weeks... *sigh * My little boy isn’t so little any more... *snif *

In honor of being 7 months, I thought I’d share with you 7 exciting things that have happened during the last month.

No. 1 Keep rollin’ rollin’ rollin’

Not two seconds after I hit the send button on last months update, the little monkey started rolling again.... Gone are the days that I can just throw him on the ground and expect to find him where I left him. He managed to roll from one end of the lounge room to the other the other day, (which most of you know isn’t all that far, but still....) and reached up, pulled a leaf off the plant (which I’ve heard is only a little bit poisonous) and shove it in his mouth. We’re going to have our hands full with this one aren’t we??

No. 2 Solids!!

Solids!! We’ve started solids! The ECN (not the same stupid cow that told me to feed T every 2 hours the week we got home from the hospital) recommended that we don’t start solids until Tyler is 6 month corrected.....which is technically next month......butttttt.... I just couldn’t handle the looks he would give us while he would watch us eat! He was worse than the dog! All that drooling and making all those smacking noises with his lips....and those eyes....looking at me like he was some poor, starving little boy. It was excruciating! I couldn’t help but throw the poor kid a crust.....even if it was a little early.
He loves toast, especially with vegemite. He doesn’t actually eat it, it’s more like he sucks the living be-jeesus out of it leaving it all soggy & globby and mashes it between his fingers. It’s so feral.

Me, who is CLULESS in all things “baby” realizing I’d probably gone a little over the top giving the kid vegemite to start off with (that stuff is just NASTY, imagine what it was doing to T’s tummy!) thought we should maybe give him a little rice cereal to get his tummy use to “food”.....though I wouldn’t really call it “food”.... I mix the stuff with that much breast milk (I’m paranoid about constipating the poor critter) that it’s almost like broth....bluck! As you can see by the above picture....T wasn’t all that impressed with his boob juice and rice cereal breakfast.

No. 3 Goodbye sweet baby.....

T had always been this sweet, adorable, well behaved little boy. Until.............. He had his 6 month needles. Now I’m not sure if it was just a coincidence or it was a side effect from the needle, but my sweet little boy turned into an evil goblin. Gone where the days when I could just lay him on the couch for his day time naps....now he needs to be rocked to sleep....or fed to sleep. He SCREAMS when we get him undressed for his bath.....is a perfect angel while in the tub........ SCREAMS again while getting him dressed.....*sigh * Little shit.......there’s sooo many other things that I KNOW he does specifically to tick me off.......is this just him being a normal baby or him being a boy??

No. 4 Jumpa jumpa jumperrrrrr

This is the part where I come out of the closet and confess..... I’ve broken one of my cardinal rules. Thou shalt not spend more than $100 at a time on a child (shut up Jenny... I can hear you sniggering from here)
It’s a long story...but the short version kinda goes like this....
Visiting friends.....
T had a “ride” on toy....
T bounced,
T giggled
T had a HOOT
T loved toy....
Daddy thought buying toy for T would do two things,
a) get T out of his crap mood that he’d been in (see No. 3) and
b) give Mummy a bit of time to herself because a certain little person had become so needy and demanding.
Daddy sends Mummy to overpriced toyshop in search of toy. Mummy finds toy. Daddy says buy toy. Mummy hesitates. Daddy insists. Mummy buys toy. Mummy puts toy together. Mummy puts T in toy. T gets upset. Mummy wonders why when T loved toy a few days ago. T tries hard to tell Mummy that it’s different when it’s someone else’s toy. Mummy doesn’t understand babble. T tries to explain again. Mummy still no understandy. T vomits all over toy. Mummy now understands.

No. 5. Chuck Monkey!

There are no pictures for this one....and for that you should be grateful.
He chucks SO much these days! It never use to be like this. Both of us constantly smell like sour milk. It’s revolting! Does anyone know if reflux can kick in at this late a stage?

No. 6. Hair!! (and eyes)

Not much to say here....except it’s growing back..... I don’t know why I chose these photos......you can’t really see his hair, but he’s just so darn adorable!

He’s still got a little “flathead” happening at the back (damn that “always sleep baby on it’s back” *ahem * advice)....but as long as he never wants to join the army when he gets older, it shouldn’t be a problem. Most of the hair that was on his back and shoulders when he was born has now disappeared, though he still has a little bit of “trucker arms” happening....he has a wee bit of hair on his upper arms that is...uummmm.....not so sparse.....or blonde.... Poor little poodle....
We’re still waiting for his eyes to settle on a permanent colour. When he was born, they were almost black....then after we got him home, they went that bluey grey colour that all newborns’ eyes go. Now they seem to be stuck half way between blue and brown. They’re blue around the outer edges, and brown closer to the black bit in the middle ( I have a HUGE grasp of the human anatomy...as you can clearly see by my use of all the proper names for body parts). I’m sure they’ll turn brown eventually though.

No. 7. Because.......

Because it was so funny the first time.........you can’t help but want to go back for seconds......

Well that’s about it from us this month.
Incase anyone was wondering about those all important stats, well, ummm... I’ve been a little slack. The ECN that use to come to the chemist down the road, doesn’t come to the chemist down the road anymore, so T is still yet to have his book filled in for his 6 month check up. We did pop him on the scales and is right on 8kgs (which is 17.63lbs for you older folks).

That’s it from me....it’s WAY past my bedtime.
Take care
Lots of love and kisses
Chan, Chad and the always Amazing Mr T

-

This......

2007-05-01T21:16:00.000+10:00

Is the REAL reason we wanted to have a child........

Chopper T

MIA for far too long.....

2007-03-30T14:34:00.000+10:00

Hi everyone....sorry about going MIA for SOOOO long, but every moment of every day I find myself mesmerised by this little (well not so little anymore) bundle of monkey giggles.
I'm going to try and make more of an effort to write........ I did say try.
If anyone is interested, I've created one of those hideous "live spaces" or what ever they are called. You can sort of catch up with what's been happening....... and there are heaps of pictures there.
http://theamazingmrt.spaces.live.com

Sorry again for disappearing........

*copy of mass email.

Update on Mr T.... 6 months!

Since the beginning of time (ok...that's a wee bit of an exaggeration) , there's been the great debate about when to stop counting in weeks and start counting in months.
If we were to count in weeks, last week would have been 24 weeks.....or 6 months if you break each month up into 4 weeks.
But if you go by dates, next week, the 2nd of April, will be 6 months..... So I'm splitting it down the middle.....well kinda down the middle... I’m running a little behind this week.
Whether its 25 weeks......or 6 months... It's still hard to believe that it's been so long since our world turned upside down.
It’s also hard to believe that it’s been a full 12 months today that we first knew of T......back then he was just a line on a pee stick, just a tiny cluster of cells. 12 months ago we held our breath, crossed our fingers and hoped and wished, that this time, things would work out.
I should stop reminiscing and get on with the update huh?

Just after I sent out the last update, my Mum called. After chatting for a bit, she says
“Is Tyler losing his hair?”
“Nooooo, he’s not losing his hair Mum!”
“Are you sure? It looks like he’s losing his hair”
“I’m positive. He’s got exactly the same amount of hair as he had when he was born, it’s just that now that his head is bigger, his hair looks....sparser”
“It looks like he’s losing his hair”
“He’s not losing his hair”

Two days later, we were up at the hospital for his monthly playgroup (they have a special playgroup at the hospital for all the babies who go through the nursery. They have a speech therapist, a physiotherapist and an occupational health therapist....yes...it’s all a little extreme.....but back to the story). The play mats are covered with white hospital sheets. Stark. White. Hospital. Sheets. When the first therapist makes her way around and checks T’s....what ever she was checking by holding his hands and having him pull himself up, what do you think was laying there on the S.W.H.S???? A MASS of black hair! Not just a few stray ones.....but CHUNKS of hair! Ok, maybe I’m over exaggerating just a little....but there was HEAPS of hair. My little boy is going BALD!!!

Onto more exciting things...... GIGGLES!!!! That’s right kids....we’re getting giggles! I’ve heard a million kids giggle before, but nothing, nothing has ever sounded as sweet as our little boy’s giggle. They are like a drug. I find myself doing some weird arse shit that I SWORE I’d never do, just in the hopes that I might entice the tiniest little giggle from him. And babble! The kid is constantly talking....to me...to Chad....to the dog....to his toys....to the wall...... Remind me in 5 years when I’m being bombarded with “why is the sky blue?” “why is the grass green?” “why?why?why?” that at one point in time I actually thought his babble was the sweetest thing in the world.

T has given up on rolling as a bad joke. I think he’s put it in his “I’ll deal with that later” basket and is concentrating on increasing the volume of his babble. I think he’s maybe rolled once in the last month.......which I know the gaggle of therapists from the hospital will frown upon us, because we’re suppose to be “teaching” him how to roll. My philosophy is , if he hasn’t learnt how to roll by the time he starts school, THEN I’ll start to worry. He spends tones of time on his tummy, until he gets frustrated at being unable to crawl, and I’m sure, like before, he’s roll again when he’s good and ready.

We had our very first trip to Emergency last Saturday night. After running a temp of 38.3 all day, having had panadol and tepid baths, at 7pm, there was no sign of the fever breaking. Tyler wasn’t in any way showing signs of distress.....he was his normal, happy self......not grizzling or over sleepy, but the temp thing wigged me out a fare bit, so I rang the Child Health Line and the nurse suggested that we high tail it up to the Childrens’ Emergency Room....so that is what we did.
I called the CER just to find out exactly where they were, because we’d only ever been to the Adults ER.
“Oh it’s real easy” says the nurse/receptionist “there’s plenty of signage, you couldn’t possibly get lost”

Well we did get lost........because there was NO BLOODY SIGNAGE!!!
Anywho....we finally get there, T gets weighed, (7.75kgs!!!) and has his temp taken, which, after sitting in the air conditioning for 20 minutes has gone down to 37.7. They whipped this snazzy little baggy thing on his willy to get a pee sample, and shoozed us into the waiting room.... And wait we did. It actually didn’t take long to see the doctor, but we then had to wait for the results of his urine test.....an hour later, it’s almost 10pm, and we’re given the all clear to go. His temp has been normal ever since....cheeky little monkey.

It’s still hard to believe that this adventure started a whole year ago.........a whole year...... Who would have thought we’d ever get this far........
Our little boy has completed us.......

I’d better be off....
Talk to you all soon
Lots of love and kisses Chan, Chad and the Amazing Mr T

Whoohoo!

2006-10-15T18:54:00.000+10:00

We've regained the weight we've lost and put on a little more! Born at 1908grams, he dropped more than the 10% of his body weight to 1660grams. Today he weighed 1980grams!

He's off the water bed heater thingy (don't you just love my use of all the technical terminology used in the SCN?) but still having a tiny bit of a problem with his temp. They keep rugging him up in 50 million layers of clothing and blankets. While it's obviously necessarry, I can't understand how doing this is teaching him how to regulate it on his own.......

A quick update

2006-10-10T08:02:00.000+10:00

I haven't had time to scratch myself what with all the pumping and spending time with the boy, but I thought you wonderful girls deserved an update.
Sorry it's just the copy of the email I sent out, but that's all I'm good for these days.
**************************
Who would have thought that it's already been a whole week since this little monkey ripped his mummy a new one.

Tyler is doing great. He spent a few days doing phototherapy due to jaundice, the lights gave him a case of the trots....well bubbly green oozy poo to be exact.....which Dad handled A LOT better than Mum did.

Today he graduated from the incubator into a crib, which is a huge step. He's still having a little trouble regulating his own body temp, so they're helping him out with this waterbed inserty thing that he's sleeping on which seems to be doing the trick for the time being. As he gets a little more meat on his bones, he'll get better at dealing with and regulating his temp.

He's had a main line ( I think that's what it's called) inserted into his arm because of the antibiotics that he needs to be taking, but that should come out by Thursday providing his second set of bloods come back negative (his first lot were neg). They need to make sure that the ECOLI that Mummy caught while she was in hospital and that caused him to come so early, wasn’t passed on while he was in utero. Yes...ecoli.......makes you feel like inviting me over for dinner huh??

Food wise, as you can see by the pics, he’s still being fed by tube, but trying really hard to get the hang of the whole sucking on the boob thing, and he’s currently on a whopping 36mls of expressed breast milk every 3 hours (he started off last Wednesday on 9mls every three hours).

Highlights of the week........

Being moved out of the ICN to the Special Care Nursery
The move from the incubator to the crib
The volcanic like bubbling green oozy poo that just kept coming and coming every time Chad wiped his bum
Chad learning that everytime he wiped, he was stimulating his anal gland, therefore producing more poo.
Chan trying to remain calm and get the nurse’s attention while trying to stop afore mentioned green oozy shit from running up his back ( I failed miserably at both getting her attention and at stopping the shit.....it wasn’t pretty)
I thought it may have taken awhile for this to happen,, but the boy managed to pee in his own mouth (I’m talking about Tyler here, not Chad)

2006-10-09T08:31:00.000+10:00

We did it.......

2006-10-04T13:40:00.000+10:00

Introducing Mr Tyler James Douglas B.
Born October 2nd 2006 at 3.06am
Born 9 weeks early, weighing a hefty 1.902kgs (4lbs 19 oz), 43.5 cms (17.12 inches) long.
He's currently in the ICN, but is doing fantastic.
You can't wipe the grin off our faces.

Exhaling too soon

2006-09-28T20:13:00.000+10:00

See... I knew it.... I’d go and jinx myself!
29w5d, which was Saturday, I relented and let Chad put the pram together.......
Up until that time, I hadn’t allowed anyone to give us anything baby related, or for us to “prepare” for the baby.....just in case.....
So Chad puts the pram together.......
That night, my last stop before bed was to go to the loo......
I wipe......there’s blood....... not just a tiny smidge of blood either
It’s 10:30pm and we’re off to L & D
There is no pain.....just blood.
They attatch all the monitors......the baby is doing fine..... there are no contractions......just blood
The blood gets heavier......
They have a look to see if they can see where the blood is coming from
They can’t see because it keeps pooling “up there” and they can’t be certain if it’s coming from the stitch or from up higher.
12am, I recieve my first steriod shot.......just in case the stitch needs to come out
2:30am, the bleeding has slowed, it’s only when i wipe.....they move me out of L & D and into a normal room.
4am, I have a major bleed, I call the nurse......she’s a little dim..... says that if it happens again (have another major bleed) that they’ll move me back to L & D
Sunday is spent in a daze, listening to babies crying and monitors going off all around me.
At midnight, I’m given my second steroid shot.
Monday morning, I’m sent for a scan. I have 1 cm of cervix, the baby’s head is wedged firmly against the stitch, they can’t tell exactly where the bleeding (which is brown now) has been coming from. They are concerned about the lack of fluid around the baby, but not TOO concerned.
Tuesday, less bleeding......just brown and smudgy......brown is good right?
Well not that good, but better than bright red.
Am told that we may get discharged tomorrow.... yippee
Wednesday we are sent home with instructions that if I start bleeding red again, to come back to the hospital.
So now it’s Thursday, and I’ve had a bit of dischargy stuff, different from Saturday night, more CM/snot tinged with red/brown. I’m trying not to worry......... I’m not cramping......only having discharge when I wipe, though there has been a fair bit of it.
I’m guessing we’ll be heading back to the hospital tonight......just to be on the safe side.......
*sigh *
Edit: don't panic, I have a tendancy of making things sound WAY worse than what they are. Yes we're bleeding, but the baby is doing fine....he's kicking up a storm, in what little room he has in my retarded bicornuate uterus.

Exhaling.......just a little

2006-09-13T08:17:00.000+10:00

I’m not sure if anyone remembers, but late last year, I wrote a post about karma and questioned whether or not it was dogging my arse for things I’d done in the past. Let me say that I was surprised I wasn’t flamed to the nth degree for admitting to these things and was so extremely appreciative for all the wonderful support that was shown to me.

However, there was one person who left a comment that made me feel pretty crappy, and in turn has been part of the reason why I have been trying to fly under the radar for the past 3 months.

Her comment in part said, “i don't think that god is up there like a kid with a stick and a magnifying glass over an ant hill. and if he is... keep him looking your way damnit, my life cant afford another problem!”

I, of course, stumbled over to her blog thinking that this poor woman must be having a bit of a bad trot, and was surprised to find that her “problems” consisted of a 6 month old with pink eye, a broken digital camera and an inability to get to her older son’s basket ball game because no one could give her a lift (she obviously has problems, but I just don’t consider poor interior decorating as a “real” problem, sorry). I have to admit that I was pretty pissed off. Here was this woman who’s “problems” would have been gladly welcomed by any of us who are dealing with infertility if it meant that we would have, not one, but two, living, breathing children, and here she was wishing that my bad luck to continue so she could live a better life...........

So with that comment rattling around in my sub conscience and because, sometimes, I just don’t think too rationally, I decided that maybe it wasn’t such a crash hot idea to go blogging about “the bun”. Would it be a sure fire way to have the magnifying glass turned in my direction and have things fall in a shit heap yet again? I didn’t want to take the chance of the universe noticing me. I didn’t want the bun to be the red flag that saw the universe strike me down for having a glimmer of hope that things would work out this time. So I kept quiet, and for that, I’m sorry. I know that alot of you girls have been popping in to see how I was, and I want to thank both Rissa (who still doesn’t have a damn blog...get off your arse woman!) and the wonderful Jill for leaving messages here letting everyone know that all is going well.

And yes.......all is still going well. I’m sitting here, 28 weeks along, in a place I never thought I’d be, ever so grateful to feel each squirm and kick but still scared out of my mind that something will go wrong. I’ve spent far too long out here in blogland to shroud myself in complete optimism and believe, that because we’ve reached this stage, that everything is going to be ok.

I have been keeping notes during the last....my gd.......15 weeks, and am in the process of trying to compress them into some sort of post that won’t be too drawn out and boring.

But for now, I’ll just say that we’re doing ok.........all three of us........and that I’ll try and pull my finger out and update more often AND manage to fill you all in on what’s been going on for the past 4 months.

Thank you all so much for checking in on me....... I wish I could give you all big sloppy kisses and cuddles for being so wonderful......

Cross your fingers

2006-05-30T07:06:00.000+10:00

They’re stitching me up.
Cervical length 2.5cm with .5cm funneling.
I’m getting an epidural which I’m absolutely CRAPPING myself about.
Wish us luck..........

Every Niggle, Every Twinge

2006-05-22T09:58:00.000+10:00

My apologies for this being so disjointed.

My universe is revolving around my uterus.
I notice every twinge, every niggle, every pull, every pain. Sometimes there is this “flick” feeling, like someone has flicked my cervix, and it takes my breath away.

I don’t know if this is normal. Is this normal??

Last time, I was so focused on if there was bleeding or not, that I didn’t take notice of anything else.

I’m almost too afraid to poop. I wait until it’s inevitable to go because I’m too afraid to push. The doctor told me I was being ridiculous and that I couldn’t “push the baby out”, but last time I only went to the loo for a pee and look what happened.

I’m so “wet” down there that it takes everything I have not to shove my hand down my pants every 10 minutes and check if it is just excessive CM or if I’m actually bleeding.....regardless where I am.

Although my last doctor said that we’d have weekly scans after 10 weeks, my new doctor didn’t think it was necessary. So I had my first scan 2 weeks ago at 10 weeks, and my next isn’t until next Monday, when I’ll be 13 weeks. The “normal” length of a cervix during pregnancy is between 3 and 5 cm. At 10 weeks, I was 2.9 cm, already shorter than “average”, only just, but still enough to to make me paranoid. I worry if some of this “discomfort” I feel is my cervix shortening and/or opening.

I’m paranoid that something is going to happen while I’m at work. I only work 5 hours a day (yes I’m a slack bitch), but those 5 hours are spent on my feet. I worry that this will have an effect on my cervix. I become so anxious before I leave for work that I make myself sick. I took Thursday and Friday off last week because I couldn’t deal with the fear.

Saturday was A.J’s second angel day. Last year, I was so tied up in my grief over losing Jessie that I did nothing to mark A.J’s first angel day. This year, I was too wrapped up in my uterus and my fears to truly acknowledge his passing. I wanted to visit the memorial garden and sit with him a spell, but I didn’t. I sat at home, lit a candle and told him how much he was missed. Theoretically, I know that this is really all I could do, but somehow it just didn’t seem enough.

So today marks 12 weeks. The day when normal pregnant women feel “safe”. I don’t feel safe.....not even the tiniest bit.

Something to lose

2006-05-11T11:35:00.000+10:00

I’ve been walking around for the last 6 weeks in denial.

I’m not really “baking”.
There isn’t really a bun in there.

I’ve been afraid to believe.

Tuesday, we had our first ultrasound.
The real fear has kicked in.
Now there’s no denying it.
Now it’s real.
I should be happy, elated and overjoyed.
But I’m more scared than ever.

The fear is now tenfold.
Because now, I have something to lose.

Who's Laughing Now??

2006-05-03T09:20:00.000+10:00

I originally wasn’t going to post this, seeing as all probably all think that I’m just some whinny, bitter, self absorbed person, with all the bitchy posts, but ppphhhtttt...... why have you think that I’m anything other than whinny, bitter and self absorbed? When you’re on a roll........

Anywho....... Chad’s friend Mark (that I mentioned here ) lives only 10 minutes away, but most of our conversations are carried out on MSN, as you do. And because Chad is a “hunt and peck” kind of guy, it’s usually left up to me to “chat” with him. We haven’t yet told them we are “baking”, there’s a long drawn out reason behind that, which I’ll go into another day, but for now, they have no idea.

So the other week I was chatting to him, and he was telling me how poor Nadine is soooooo sick, that she’s head down in the loo every 30 minutes and that she’s had to give up her part time job. I admit I had a bit of a giggle, and may have even uttered “suck shit”, but only to myself of course, because I’d hate for him to think I was jealous about their pregnancy. Only you guys get to witness how narky I really am.

Mark, being the walking contradiction that he is, tried to tell me, despite our last MSN conversation, that this baby was indeed planned and wasn’t an “oops” baby. I wanted to call him out and tell him to pull his head out of his arse, but, I was polite and let him waffle on.

I was under the assumption that Nadine was a lot further along when he’d told us as he’s not usually one to talk about anything. With Mark, everything falls under the “it’s too personal” header and he rarely talks, even to Chad, about relationship troubles, money worries or anything “personal”. Hence Chad thinking it must have been a HUGE deal when Mark discussed the thoughts of leaving Nadine because things were at breaking point just weeks before the “big announcement”.

Apparently, the pee hadn’t even dried on the stick before he was telling the world that he was going to be a daddy.

She is only 3 weeks ahead of me, due mid November.

Nadine is the kind of girl that wouldn’t dream of leaving the house without her hair and make-up done. She always is dressed like someone who’s just stepped out of a Cosmo magazine, always up to the minute when it comes to fashion. So when I saw them shopping the other night, I had to do a double take. Her hair was dank and matted, she was wearing a beaten up old cardigan and a pair of shorts that looked like they’d belonged to her father. There was not a trace of make-up and her skin was atrocious. She looked like crap. Definitely not the Nadine we were accustomed to seeing.

As shallow as it may sound, seeing her like that made me feel AMAZING! I’m by no means an oil painting, but I try and make myself look presentable (most days). Although being up with the fashions is out of the question because I would barely be able to squeeze my left tit into three quarters of cloths found in fashion magazines, I do try and wear nice-ish kinds of things, though I was in my work uniform at the time, so that kind of makes that point mute.

I felt fantastic, because, well, although I’ve had nausea, it’s been more like a constant hangover kind of feeling, I hadn’t actually lost my lunch, and have been able to function “normally”.

Until Sunday.............. (you so saw that coming didn’t you??)

Sunday I was so sick I had to leave work after only 3 hours. I spent the rest of the day with my head in the toilet.

Monday..........ditto

Tuesday wasn’t so bad. I’ve found that if I keep stuff going down, there’s less of a chance of things coming back up.

My lesson has been learnt.

I work with animals

2006-04-22T09:15:00.000+10:00

Dear Co-Worker Dirty Fucking Mole,

Re: Restroom Etiquette

It has been drawn to my attention that you are not following correct company procedure when utilizing the restroom.
Yes, you may be adhering to the request to wash your hands, as shown in the detailed laminated poster on the wall, for which, I’m sure, not only your fellow staff members, but also customers alike, are extremely grateful.
You may THINK you are adhering to the new request posted inside each cubical that requests that you “make sure your toilet paper flushes” (a not so subtle hint to suggest that you make sure your poo has flushed), when it is in fact, obvious that you are not.
If you were truly following the request, you would have noticed that you PISSED ON THE FUCKING SEAT! This is not a case of a drop or two of splashed up “flush”, or an easily miss-able “drip”, but a fucking PUDDLE OF PISS pooled at the BACK of the seat!
I understand your apprehension at placing your arse on the seat, because, technically, it is a “public” restroom due to the 30 odd women who work here ever day, and because your mummy taught you never to put your bottom on a public toilet. But if you INSIST on kangarooing it over the toilet, either
a) put the seat up
b) try to aim a little better
or
c) WIPE YOUR FUCKING PISS OFF THE SEAT WHEN YOU’RE FINISHED, YOU DIRTY.FUCKING.BITCH!

Sincerely,
Me, the one that had to clean up after you, you filthy fucking pig.

"Oh, I'm Sorry, Did I Break Your Concentration?"

2006-04-19T14:17:00.000+10:00

This is what immediately popped into my head as soon as I heard that Katie and Tom called their little girl Suri.

Well actually it wasn’t. When Ms Kennerly announced it on her crappy morning show, she actually pronounced it “Soo-ree”, I thought of a Chinese pig farmer calling in his pigs.

So I googled a little and found that it can be pronounced, “Sir-ee”, or “Surrey”, and THAT is when I thought of Mr Jackson in Pulp Fiction.

Slack

2006-04-16T07:50:00.000+10:00

Sorry to drop the stick and be lax with the updates, but it’s been a bit hectic around here of late. In retail, Easter is almost as bad as Christmas with people thinking that the world is going to come to an end because we’ll be closed for two days (and not even two consecutive days at that), so I’ve been putting in a few extra hours, which has been leaving me feeling absolutely knackered.

So now for an update. Everything is going along fine and dandy, physically anyway.
I’m sure that my already massive DD breasts have gotten even bigger already, and they hurt like a bitch.
There’s been a couple of days where I’ve had slightly discoloured CM, but I surprisingly didn’t get too freaked about.
Going to the little girls room is becoming a bit of mind fuck though. I keep expecting a repeat episode of Jesse, with the baby sliding out me without warning. I daily google pictures of what stage the embryo is at so I have a clear picture of what I’d have to deal with if I needed to scoop it out of the toilet.
What doesn’t help on the peeing front is that I’m having to pee every hour on the hour. So not only does the fear factor rise each hour, my poor foofoo is copping a flogging as well. There isn’t even any reprieve while I’m asleep, every hour on the hour, I’m up having to get up and pee. If any of you girls know a way that I can minimize these loo visits, especially during the night, I’d be forever grateful.

My weekly hospital visits with Dr Mackay begin on the 8th of April when I’ll be almost 10 weeks. Jeebus! That’s only like.... 3 weeks from tomorrow!

Thank you all so much for your kind words, thoughts and prayers. I promise I won’t leave it so long to update next time.

Ummmm.... Crap?

2006-04-04T14:10:00.000+10:00

Surrounded By Stupid

2006-04-01T22:34:00.000+10:00

My sister has never officially been diagnosed as having PCOS. Many moons ago, a few years before she had Caleb, she was having irregular periods (3-4 months apart) and had an ultrasound, where they discovered countless cysts on her ovaries. Because she didn’t have a partner and wasn’t “trying” (well she was, she really didn’t mind who the daddy was, she just wanted to fall pregnant, have a baby, and hope that he’d do the right thing and marry her), there was no declaration that she had PCOS and no offer to “manage” the problem.

She has been seeing this bloke for about the last 12 months or so, who up until recently, lived about 4 hours away. He’s a previous financial adviser who managed to get himself into gobs of debt and at 32, moved back in with his parents to clean up his massive debt by driving taxis. Apart from a few days together here and there, their relationship was mainly carried out via the phone. Because he was trying to save money, most nights, he’d call her on her mobile, let it ring twice, then hang up, she would then call him back from the home phone. This little exercise would cost her roughly $160 a month, which on a single parents pension, is alot of money. As you could imagine, I don’t hold this fella in very high regard. I know I shouldn’t let it bother me, but what kind of a prick would do this knowing she had limited funds and had a child to raise??

Anyhoo, he got accepted into university here as a mature aged student and moved down to Brisbane about a month ago. So being the responsible sister that I am, I gave her my birth control pills, which are still in date, that have been sitting in my cupboard for the last umpteen years. She hasn’t had a period since December, so has been waiting for them to show up before she starts taking them. **Quick question for those in the know, can she start taking them even though her period hasn’t shown up? Will they help bring them on?***

So, this morning, I’m putting some washing in the machine.....
“Sorry if we were noisy last night (giggle)” her not so subtle attempt at telling me that she got lucky
“We didn’t hear a thing....... please tell me you used protection”
(lots of looking everywhere but at me)
“H!!!”
“But he pulled out before he came! And besides, I haven’t had a period since December.”
inject a tirade of abuse that included words like, dickhead, stupid fuck, irresponsible etc, and a refresher course in how babies are made.

Did I mention that the dickhead who thinks that “pulling out” is a good choice of birth control, is currently studying to become a fucking DOCTOR?????? GD help us all.........

What do rainbows taste like?

2006-03-28T13:07:00.000+10:00

I overheard a woman in the checkout line telling her 6 month old baby girl.
She was sharing, open mouthed, slobbery baby kisses
“Your kisses taste like rainbows” she said
My heart just melted.
Working in a supermarket is the ultimate excuse to want to stay on birth control for the rest of your life.
It’s moments like these that, though few and far between, that keep me trying.
.........I want to taste rainbow kisses........

Just sex......

2006-03-27T09:36:00.000+10:00

So Jill asked what we're doing in regards to trying to get ourselves knocked up...... well...... we're having sex.
That's it..... just sex.
No injections or pills, no magic herbal formulas, no accupunture, no nothing.
Just plain old, mostly poorly timed (because of our conflicting work schedules) sex.
Pretty interesting shit huh?
We had our follow up appointment for my hysteroscopy (which if you remember was last June) LAST WEEK!!! Yes, 9 months later. Thank fuck I didn't have anything terminal. Obviously, our public health system works a TREAT!
The doctor that I originally saw is no longer doing rotations up at the hospital, so I got to see a new doctor, Dr Narelle Mackay. A girl doctor who deals with girl things. I was most impressed.
Despite the fact that my big fat file was sitting in front of her, she took the time to talk to me about everything and re-took my history (big bonus points). She also gave me a pap smear (triple bonus points for warming the speculum) which apparently, just because I've had the greater population of Brisbane look at my snatch during the last 2 years, was overdue.
I also had a few more blood tests done, for PCOS (cause my sister has it, and I'm desperately searching for a medical reason for why my arse is so big) and some other test to check if I've ovulated or not.
Although technically we've been trying to have a baby for close to 3 years, and because we've only been trying for 6 months this time round (minus December when MIL visited and January because we just couldn't be arsed), we'll have to keep trying for another 6 months before Dr M will consider looking into things further, which I must say was a little disheartening.
But that's where we are......... exciting stuff isn't it??
Just a quick question..... can you get pregnant from giving blow-jobs?

Tuesday's Tanty

2006-03-21T10:26:00.000+10:00

I thought I’d take one day of the week to have a little whine and chuck a tantrum about how unfair life is, with the hope that i’ll be able to start blogging more often without the “sooky/woe is me“ crap that I usually drone on about.

Today’s tantrum, ”Why the fuck can’t I be the one??“

Friday, I’m at work, I have these wonderful regular customer who are Brethren. You know the kind of people who wear denim skirts, wear their hair real long and those weird little kerchiefs on their heads. We’re merrily chatting away, when Ivory, who is 5, pops her head on the little ledge and says ”my mum’s pregnant“. ”Mum“ is a little embarrassed, (we’ve talked before about my losses, and also shared about her loss) says ”it’s still early days, anything can happen“. Which is true. This will be child number 6. SIX people!! SIX! Can we not say ”BIRTH CONTROL“???Talk about being greedy! The worst part is, when I asked if they’d been tossing up names, she said if it was a girl, they’d name her Harmony. They already have 2 daughters, their names, Ebony & Ivory. For the rest of the day I had Stevie Wonder and Paul McCartney in my head. Having caused Stevie and Paul to spin continuously in my head all day is reason enough to want to throw a pie in this woman’s face.

Friday just kept getting better.....

After lunch, another regular customer, lets call her Kitty. Kitty is married, to an interstate truck driver. Kitty has a lover, because, you know, women have needs (and yes I’m rolling my eyes). Last year, Kitty sends her unruly 16 year old down to live with ”lover“ because she has become too much of a handful. 16 year old falls pregnant to Lover ( who is 40)and has a little boy. Kitty also has a 12 year old boy who has been expelled from every school in the area, who doesn’t come home for days at a time, smokes pot, drinks, steals, you get the picture. She asks me if I’ve seen him lately as he hasn’t been home for 4 days, shrugs when I tell her I haven’t, and says ”Oh, well, he’ll come home when he’s hungry“ like he’s some sort of dog. Kitty then tells me how her 15 year old, slightly retarded daughter (who also doesn’t live at home) was ”forced“ to remove the birth-control bar from her arm by her 19 year old boyfriend, hence winding up pregnant, much to Kitty’s disgust. Kitty is appalled, unable to understand how all this could happen....she says all this while rubbing her ginormous belly(she was also bewildered at how she herself ended up pregnant being 35 and all) that is currently occupied by baby number 8. EIGHT people!!!!! EIGHT!!!! For the love of GD, someone sterilize this woman!

So on to Saturday.... they say things come in three’s........

Chad has friends, Mark and Nadine (not their real names of course). They have a toxic relationship, always fighting, never happy, but stay together because, it’s all they know. They’ve been together for 7 years, she has a 9 year old son from a previous......I want to say relationship, but I’m guessing it was more of an ”encounter“. Mark is rarely allowed to socialize with his friends, though Nadine goes out night clubbing at least twice a week, coming home drunk at ridiculous hours. She spends stupid amounts of money on clothes and shoes and the kid has every toy ever invented. Their house is disgusting, they have a minagerie of pets, 3 cats, 2 dogs. I went to pick Chad up from there one night after they’d had few (read ALOT) beers, it was 3am, I was wearing my pj’s and fluffy monster slippers, as you do, I walked from the front door to the spare room where Chad had passed out (it was all of maybe 10 meters) and I got bitten by 3 fleas. The next day, we were still being bitten, the fleas had hitched a ride on my fluffy monster slippers and were now infesting my home, my dog, and even the damn car! I ended up giving them some flea stuff for the animals, but they never go around to using it....... BLUCK!!!
Anywho........About 6 months ago, they got caught rorting the system, she had been claiming the single parents pension while living with Mark (who is gainfully employed). From what we can work out, she would have claimed close to $100,000 over the last 7 years, which they will now have to pay back. This meant Nadine had to go out and get herself a job, which she did, and works most weekends, which leaves Mark looking after the kid, but able to ”play with his mates“. Saturday afternoon, Chad went down the the basketball courts to shoot some hoops, I saw Mark on MSN and told him that he was more than welcome to drop ”the kid“ off here and go down and play with Chad for a couple of hours if he wanted to. He declined, saying that he was picking up his sister from the airport. He then casually mentioned that they were going to be getting another housemate.
”You’re getting ANOTHER dog???“ like the flea infestation wasn’t quite cutting it and they had to take it to another level.
”No, another human“. Oh, you’re moving someone in to help pay the rent as you’re in so much financial trouble.
”Who, Kate?“ (his sister)
”No, someone smaller“
”Huh??........ oh gd, is Nadine pregnant??“
”Lol, yeah, much to my surprise“ his surprise yes, her’s, I doubt very much, perfect way to trap the bloke who’s been talking about leaving you lately
”Congrats, how far along is she“
”Not sure, a couple of weeks we think, she only had the bar taken out of her arm a month ago“ are you that fucking stupid to think that you COULDN”T get pregnant now that she wasn’t using any form of birth control???
“Cool” me...lost for words...
“Yeah, another mouth to feed” cause you guys can SO afford it can’t you, maybe Johnny Howard will take pity on you now and forget about the $100,000 you ripped off.
“Maybe being pregnant will keep Nadine at home and off the grog...lol. I’d better go, talk soon” I hate her, I hate her, I hate her, I hate her....

As Chad said, I can’t expect everybody to wait until we’re pregnant, which is true, but why the fuck can’t we have an “oops baby”? Why the fuck does everything have to be so damn fucking hard?

WTF?

2006-03-14T21:37:00.000+10:00

I rarely visit my own blog, hence not noticing till now that the posts I’ve made over the last few weeks haven’t actually been posted.
I thought that using this wizz bang Mac Journal thingy would make it all so much easier........ apparently not.

The journal

2006-03-14T21:35:00.000+10:00

I’m usually pretty rat-shit at keeping secrets (and no it’s not the bun in the oven kind of secret).
My big secret is that it was my birthday back in December, the 5th.
Though I usually get pretty pumped about having a special day all about me, last year’s was the beginning of a slow decline into a place that isn’t so nice.
The day before my 32nd birthday, the previous year, I found out I was pregnant with Jesse. Who could have asked for a better gift? So last year’s birthday was the beginning of the “this time last year” scenarios.

This birthday, my mother gave me a journal. On the front in a little blurb that says,

A remarkable woman
The warmth,
The wisdom,
A life worth living,
recording and
remembering.
An authentic journey
Her moments.
Her memories.
Her compassion.
Her courage.
Her journal.

This is her life,
Celebrate her.

I cried when I read this. Not because I thought that it was touching that my mother thinks that I am remarkable, or that she thought writing might help me with my grief, but because the “me” I am now, isn’t worth celebrating. I’m not filled with warmth, or compassion, and I have shown very little courage.

I want to be that person, but I’m not.

I want to have compassion and show courage. I want to have a journey that is worth remembering, worth writing about............. worth celebrating.

I’m bitter and angry about the women I see every day who seem to be able to have babies with such ease. Some of who are now on to their second, third or even fourth pregnancies, since I started out on this journey.

But I just can’t seem to get past how much this all still hurts.

Jesse

2006-02-09T18:58:00.000+10:00

“Just the thought of you changed us,
I remember exactly when,
but as soon as you say hello,
you say goodbye again.”

Spring - John Butler Trio

A year already...... why does it still hurt as though it only happened yesterday?

Getting old

2006-01-24T14:33:00.000+10:00

When I was a kid, I’d watch my Dad reading the Sunday paper. He’d lick his index finger on his right hand and slowly turn the page.

I loved books, I never had troubles turning the pages, so I figured it must have been an “old person” thing. You know, as you get older, your skin dries up, hence having to lick to replenish every few pages.

I’d always thought, “I’ll know when I’m old when I have to start licking my finger to turn a page”

Well that time came about a year ago. Sitting down on a Sunday morning, without even a second thought, I brought my finger up to my tongue and licked. It wasn’t until after I’d done it half a dozen times that I realized what I was doing.
I didn’t feel old. I didn’t look old....well I didn’t think I did.

I’d always had pretty crappy skin, hell, I still get pimples at 33! I’ve never been one to cleanse and tone and what not. My beauty regime consisted of washing my face with soap and......well that’s about it.

One of my many New Years resolutions was to look after my skin and moisturize more often. Seems like a relatively easy thing to do right? Phhhtttt.

3 weeks into the new year and I think I’ve moisturized, oh, maybe 4 times. I still don’t own cleanser or toner or any of that other wonderful stuff that’s suppose to reduce the size of your pores and erase wrinkles. That was until the other day.

Friday was Chad’s day off, so he agreed to meet me for lunch. Lunch time for us is usually an approximated time, so I told him to meet me between 12:30 and 1pm. At 1:15 he came and asked if he was going to have to wait much longer, his displeasure of having to sit around for too much longer was obvious, and having no idea how long I was going to be, I told him not to worry about it and go home, which he did.

I turned to the customer I was serving, who would have been all of about 1 meter away from me and said “grrrrr he can be such a turd sometimes”. And do you know what she said ????

“Was that your son?”

WTF???? I nearly hyperventilated!

She back peddled real quick when I told her that, no, he wasn’t my son, but my husband. She said she wasn’t wearing her glasses.... she was sooo sorry...... and just to sink the boot in a little further, she said “it’s your hair”

HUH??? Now I have old person hair!!! Yes the grays are starting to come through a little, but since when do old people have BRIGHT RED STREAKS??? I mean, it’s cool, and hip, and...........MY HAIR IS NOT OLD PEOPLE HAIR!! I use Fudge, and only cool, hip young-ins use Fudge to colour their hair right? Punks and goths and uber cool rock stars use Fudge! Look how hip their intro page is people!! Is that not cool?? Old people don’t use colours with names like Cherry Bomb, Red Corvette and Pretty Flamingo! I DON’T HAVE OLD PEOPLE HAIR!

Ahem......so anywho........guess who has become more diligent in her nightly skin care regime?

That’d be me.

And let me tell you, that jar of Olay had better turn back the hands of time, erase fine lines and give me visibly younger looking skin or ......or......... well I’ll do something, I’m not quite sure yet, but I’ll think of something. I’m still far too traumatized at having someone think that my 27 year old husband was my SON!

Someone pass me a bourbon.......

Random Friday Photos

2006-01-14T00:52:00.000+10:00

Because I’m having one of those exciting weeks where nothing extraordinary has happened, I thought I share some photos.......

For Rissa, a partial virtual house.....

The front

The lounge room (you’ll notice the cushion carefully positioned to hide the nasty stain)I's not really as small as it looks. As it was I almost had to hang out the window to get this shot.

A better look at the new colour in the lounge, cause it looks like watery pea soup in the other one.

(pictures of the bedroom and bathroom to come, I’m mega cleaning one room at a time....don’t rush me)

My little girl, Kara.

Stumpy Steve, our three legged gecko.

The big fucking lizard that lives in our backyard.

Uber sexy US..........

Interesting fact #87

2006-01-07T15:04:00.000+10:00

The mixture of Bepanthen and tattoo ink is ALOT harder to get out of a camel coloured couch than black biro is.

Ink.....

2006-01-05T15:10:00.000+10:00

I’ve been obsessed with tattoos since........well it feels like forever.
As a teen, my list of preferred attributes in a potential partner, (other than a great sense of humor and nice teeth), was tattoos.
There was always something deliciously bad associated with someone that had a tattoo ( before they became the fashion accessory that they are these days).

I’d always been shit scared of needles, so getting one was almost out of the question for me. I’d always dreamed of getting one, but the whole pain thing turned me off completely.

I got my first tattoo in 2004, in memory of A.J. It was a spare of the moment decision. A smallish, purple winged love heart with the 20.5.2004 written in on the ribbon like scroll.

I was amazing at how little it hurt, but then, being done on the meatiest part of my body (my boob, not my arse), did have something to do with it. I found the whole experience extremely relaxing, to the point where I almost fell asleep while he was doing it!

This left me eager to get another one. I mean, if it was as easy and relatively pain free as the first one, I’d get another 10 done.

After losing Jesse, I knew I had to get another one. After all, I couldn’t show favoritism now could I? That and the fact that I now had “the bug”. We trolled tattoo books and pictures on the web for the perfect one and eventually found one that we both liked, (Chad is getting the same one done eventually) and modified it a little so it suited us.

Tuesday we headed to our wonderful tattooist, Paul at Psychedelic Tattoo at Mt Gravatt (he doesn’t have a website so I can’t link unfortunately).

I was more than a little bit nervous. This one is in between my shoulder blades, and although there is plenty of “back fat”, there wasn’t nearly as much as “boob fat”. I even caved and had a cigarette (I’m making attempt #117 to give up smoking, which is going surprisingly well. I’m only having one a day) to calm my nerves.

The first outline wasn’t too bad. It was a little more painful than I remembered the first one being, but still bearable. I was doing this for Jesse, and for A.J, so I took it in my stride.

The second stage started. The design has alot of black in it........and I mean ALOT. This hurt like a mother fucker! But, I was doing it for the boys, so I closed my eyes and rode out the pain.

The second stage took almost 2 hours. I found myself not only thinking of my boys, but Jill’s Thomas, Catherine’s Alex, , Kristin’s Thomas, Julie's Caleb....Eve, Lisa, Julie, Jenna, Meg, and all the other unbelievable women who, through their amazing writing, have shared their painful stories of loss. (apologies to those I haven’t mentioned specifically).

What started off as a tribute to my boys, transcended into so much more. A reminder for me of not only my angels, but all of your angels too.

Never when I need it.....

2006-01-04T09:20:00.000+10:00

This could have saved my Christmas.........

http://www.versiontracker.com/dyn/moreinfo/macosx/28746

10 Tips to being a good Mother In-Law

2005-12-29T13:45:00.000+10:00

1. If you are going to buy food, buy food for everyone, not just yourself. Although you feel as though you are “putting us out” by eating our food, we specifically bought enough food to feed all of us. Although we said there was no need for you to buy your own food, it wouldn’t hurt if you put your hand in your pocket for a loaf of bread, a carton of milk or even a six pack to contribute to the Christmas day feast. It’s what’s called being a good house guest.

2. Please make sure you are covered up at all times if you insist on wearing nothing but a sarong around the house.

3. The perfume I’m wearing is the same one I’ve been wearing for years (it’s called Kama by Karmasutra, it’s actually an Indian love oil, just in case you all are wondering). I like wearing it because it’s a distinct scent that is “me”. Yes I have a problem with you borrowing some. I’m not particularly fussed on the idea of us smelling the same.

4. No I did not see the episode of Malcolm in the Middle/NCIS/Law & Order/McCleod’s Daughters or any other show that it shown during “prime time”. I work nights. I’ve worked nights for the last 7 years. I’m at work during “prime time”, so no I didn’t see it, so please stop asking me.

5. Ditto with the numerous amounts of humorous commercials that tickle your funny bone. I don’t watch a lot of television full stop. Day time television is atrocious therefore don’t tend to watch.

6. Please don’t buy me anymore watches. I don’t wear one. I don’t intend on wearing one. Ever. The pink “jelly” watch you gave me last year is still sitting in my bottom draw, soon it will be joined by the wrap around, diamonties incrusted, kids watch that is way too small.... because it is after all..... A KIDS WATCH , that you gave me this year.

8. We have two couches. One is a lovely suede camel coloured 3 seater with a chase, perfect for two or more people. We refer to it as “our” couch. The other is a chocolate coloured 2 seater, which we refer to as our “visitors couch”. It’s rather rude to stake your claim the first day you get here by sprawling out over “our” couch and leaving us to huddle together on the visitors couch.

9. In reference to the couch mentioned in the above point, if you’re going to lay all over our camel coloured couch and do your crosswords, please be mindful of the black biro you are using. Seeing as you had staked your spot on the couch and nobody else had sat there for at least 12 hours, at least admit that it could have been you and apologize. It’s extremely poor taste to try and blame the 3 1/2 year old who hasn’t been upstairs in more than 18 hours.

10. When it’s 30+ degrees and I’m sweating like a pig, please refrain from uttering comments such as “It’d be interesting to know what the temperature is” or “how hot do you think it is now Chan?” every hour. I’m not a meteorologist, or a weather girl. All I know is that it’s FUCKING HOT and I’m doing my damn best to try to FORGET exactly how hot it is and ignore the sweat that is running down my back and pooling in my arse crack.

I am a.......

2005-12-19T12:11:00.000+10:00

cunt, with a capital C.

I was going to say “bitch”, but I am so much more than that. I. AM. A. LOW. ARSED. EVIL. NASTY. CUNT.

Remember my post about my ex and his current girlfriend and how I bitched and moaned and cried about how unfair the universe was that she was pregnant and I wasn’t?

What wasn’t said was the evil, horrible thoughts that I had.

I wished that she’d lose the baby. I wished that her pregnancy wouldn’t be easy, that her labour would be worse. I’d wished that the baby would be retarded and deformed.

I was jealous, insanely jealous. I was bitter and angry and green with envy.

Though these words that were never spoken out loud, they did several laps around my head. They don’t necessary warrant being labeled the “C” word, because I’m sure at one time or another, though many of us wouldn’t admit to it, have had similar thoughts. Guilt coincided with those horrible thoughts, because what kind of a person wishes those things on a tiny baby?

Kev & Vals’s baby was incompatible with life.

So last Tuesday, they made their way to hospital where she was induced at 18 weeks and gave birth to a tiny little girl. They dressed her in a tiny little dress, and they held her. They kissed her and told her good-bye.

So what makes me such a cunt?

When I was told, for more than a moment, I was happy that they’d lost their baby. I was pleased that the joy of fatherhood had been taken away from him. I was delighted at their loss, because it meant, I was right in leaving him because I wanted a baby, my decision wasn’t in vane.

My joy only lasted but a minute or two, which in hindsight, was a minute or two too long. How could I be “happy” about the loss of a baby, regardless of who’s baby it was? How could I be so cold ? So spiteful and vile?

Because I’m a cunt, of gargantuan proportions. A horrible, nasty, self centered, evil, loathsome, obnoxious, hateful bitch.

I cried. Not because of the realization that I was so nasty, but I cried for their little girl, I cried for their loss.

I’ll never be able to tell them how sorry I am, it would just be perceived as me being spiteful, because that’s the kind of person he is. He wouldn’t be able to see I was showing genuine sympathy and sadness for their loss.

So to the little girl who’s name I may never know, fly free little one.
Know that there is sorrow in my heart for your parents.
And know that there are two little boys up there who, despite the estrangement between us, are your family, and they will envelop you in their wings, and keep you safe.

Sleep sweet baby girl.......

Is this just the beginning?

2005-12-15T22:29:00.000+10:00

I’ve received the following email quite a few times in the last few weeks....

Subject: It's Our Country
Australia- The Right to Leave
Our Country - YOU Have the right - the right to leave !
After Sydney not wanting to offend other cultures by putting up Xmas lights.
After hearing that the State of South Australia changed its opinion and let a Muslim woman have her picture on her driver's license with her face covered.
This prompted this editorial written by an Australian citizen. Published in an Australian newspaper.
Quote:
IMMIGRANTS, NOT AUSTRALIANS, MUST ADAPT.   Take It Or Leave It !
I am tired of this nation worrying about whether we are offending some individual or their culture. Since the terrorist attacks on Bali, we have experienced a surge in patriotism by the majority of Australians.
However, the dust from the attacks had barely settled when the "politically correct" crowd began complaining about the possibility that our patriotism was offending others. I am not against immigration, nor do I hold a grudge against anyone who is seeking a better life by coming to Australia.
However, there are a few things that those who have recently come to our country, and apparently some born here, need to understand.
This idea of Australia being a multicultural community has served only to dilute our sovereignty and our national identity. As Australians, we have our own culture, our own society, our own language and our own lifestyle.

This culture has been developed over two centuries of struggles, trials and victories by millions of men and women who have sought freedom.

We speak ENGLISH, not Spanish, Lebanese, Arabic, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, or any other language. Therefore, if you wish to become part of our society, Learn the language!

"In God We Trust" is our National Motto. This is not some Christian, right wing, political slogan. We adopted this motto because Christian men and women, on Christian principles, founded this nation, and this is clearly documented. It is certainly appropriate to display it on the walls of our schools. If God offends you, then I suggest you consider another part of the world as your new home, Because God is part of our culture.

If the Southern Cross offends you, or you don't like " A Fair Go", then you should seriously consider a move to another part of this planet.

We are happy with our culture and have no desire to change, And we really don't care how you did things where you came from.

This is OUR COUNTRY, OUR LAND, and OUR LIFESTYLE, and we will allow you every opportunity to enjoy all this.

But once you are done complaining, whining, and griping about Our Flag, Our Pledge, Our National Motto, or Our Way of Life, I highly encourage
you take advantage of one other great Australian freedom,
             "THE RIGHT TO LEAVE"
If you aren't happy here then leave now! We didn't force you to come here. You asked to be here. So accept the country YOU accepted. Pretty easy really, when you think about it.

-------------------------------------------
I don’t consider myself a racist, or a bigot, but I’m beginning to tired of all the political correctness bullshit that is being forced upon us.

Just last week, a primary school principle felt obliged to write a letter of apology to a family after they took offense to the word “Christmas” being written 3 times in a school newsletter.

And even more recently are the events of last Sunday at Cronulla in NSW where thousands of people took to the streets to “take back their beach” after 2 local volunteer lifeguards (aged 15 & 19) were brutally attacked by a gang of men of “middle eastern appearance”.

It brought further to light the true amount of segregation that is evident here in Australia, despite the impression of a multicultural heaven that is portrayed around the world.

The media is doing a fine job of blaming the “white neo-natzi” supporters for all the happenings, but what they are failing to show is WHY these people felt they needed to take a stand. Here is a little information on what has been happening over the last couple of years.

So why haven’t the police put a stop to this kind of intimidation and abuse? Because they can’t.

Here is an exert from The Daily Telegraph (the full article is here)

I'm a police officer - and I am scared

This open letter, from an anonymous police officer, was being distributed to locals in Cronulla yesterday

December 14, 2005

I AM a NSW police officer with more than 17 years' experience and I tell you that I am scared.

I am scared to do my job and I don't blame the community for taking the law into their own hands.

In the late '80s when I first joined the police force, I saw how the old school police did things. I agree there was corruption and things had to change, but what the Government, judicial system and ultimately society did to the police force was just disgraceful.

In days gone by, if there was a group of hoodlums hanging around intimidating people outside a pub, two 6'2" burly coppers would turn up in a big F100 truck.

The way they spoke, their stature, respect and how they dealt with these hoodlums gave them real power and not some weak piece of legislation given to them by some reactionary Government.

If these hoodlums hadn't already run off because they knew what was coming, they would cop a flogging, a kick up the bum, a slap over the head. The young kids were afraid of the police and that's how we controlled and protected the community.

Fear is the only thing a young male understands. That real power is now lost forever.

Let's look at how the new police force would handle the same job.

Firstly, we changed our name to a "service" because it was aggressive to use the word "force". We send two small female officers, wearing silly little yellow caps.

If we want to move these thugs out of the area, we have a very strict procedure we must follow. We have to announce our name and place of duty. The thug laughs and starts calling us by our first name.

We have to tell them why they have to move on. We have to warn them that if they fail to move on, they may be arrested.

If there is more than one thug, we have to do this to each one.

They tell us they don't speak English, start stating their rights and call their friends by mobile phone to come to the location.

The process we have just started doesn't work with a drunk who wants to argue - it just makes it more confusing.

We have to make detailed notes of the conversation and caution them not to say or do anything in case it incriminates them.

Each time we use a power, we have to tell the hoodlum what it is and why we are doing it.

From the very outset, they have the upper hand and it continues. They have the real power ... we have pretend power.“

I don’t agree with the attack on the innocent people who, solely because of their ethnic appearance, got caught up in the events of Sunday’s ”riot“.

I don’t agree with painting every person who shares the same heritage or religious believes with the same brush.

I don’t agree with the politicians who are blaming the ”anglos“ and sweeping wrong doings by ”minorities“ under the carpet because they’re afraid if they do, they will be labeled as unsympathetic and racist.

I don’t agree with the government that seems to have had it’s back bone surgically removed that is allowing all this PC crap to go on.

Is this all just a storm in a tea cup that will be forgotten about in a month or two, or the true cracks of multiculturalism beginning to show?

Could it be???

2005-12-09T12:47:00.000+10:00

Is that.......
a faint.......
if you hold it up to the light juuuussstt right
it certainly could be.......
nah......
well if you hold it like this is could be
and on this angle possibly

Stop being such a dick. Of course it’s not a fucking line.
And just to prove how much of a fucking dick you are......you can have your periods 2 days before they’re due!
That’ll teach you for being such a wanker and looking for shit that’s not there.
pppphhhtttt to you girlfriend!

Colour My World

2005-11-28T14:25:00.000+10:00

Thank you so very much to all you wonderful ladies who let me pour my heart out, offered their compassion and understanding and didn’t judge me on the things I had done in my past.
(A special thank you to Em and Lisa for sharing their experiences too)

Sorry it has been so long since I’ve posted but we’ve been busy. Chad and I both had a weeks holiday together, which unfortunately wasn’t spent lounging beside a pool drinking daiquiris but, painting our home. Not really much of a holiday, but it was great spending time together, something, due to our work rosters, is something that we don’t often get to do.

Not only did we colour our walls, we coloured our hair. I went Red Corvette, (by fudge, which unfortunately is only a semi- permanent, and fades way too quickly. If anyone knows of a colour similar to this but in a permanent I would be forever grateful)

(excuse the eyebrows, I'm on holidays!)

Chad went stripey.......

I’ll post pictures of the rooms we managed to get painted tomorrow, their still sitting in the camera and the battery is flat (sorry Rissa, I’m getting there though, at least the pictures have been taken!)

I also went to see a John Edward-sy kind of show the other week too. Her name is Charmaine Wilson and although I didn’t get “chosen”, it was entertaining none the less. We’d actually had a private reading done by her about 18 months ago which was quite freaky. My mum had booked her to come to her home, and as an afterthought, as most things are with my mum, we were invited along. There were about 8 people, including us, there.

When she finally got around to me, she asked me if I had lost a little boy recently. I told her no. ( I was actually 10 weeks pregnant with A.J. at the time) She said that she could see my Grandfather standing there, holding a baby boy in his arms. She wasn’t forthcoming with any further information, and that was pretty much it with my part of the reading.

4 weeks later we lost A.J. And although at the time we didn’t know that he indeed was a little boy (my waters had never broken and he came out in intact, still floating in in amniotic fluid, they wanted to sent the complete specimen away to pathology so we couldn’t tell at the time if he was a boy or a girl).

Was this a preminition on her part? Was she trying to warn us? Psychic mediums don’t usually pass on bad information like this, but was this her way of letting us know that although we were going to lose our little one, that he would be taken care of by my Grandfather?

Either way, it wasn’t until months later that I actually found some comfort in the fact that my baby may just be safe in the arms of my Grandfather, just like her vision.

Karma?

2005-11-04T12:28:00.000+10:00

This is going to be a long LONG post, so I apologize in advance for boring the crap out of you all.

Many years ago, when I was just a young pup of 16, I found myself pregnant. His name was Aaron and we weren’t exactly a couple, we were just two people that managed to hook up at parties every weekend over a period of about 6 months. I was on the pill, and it was the 80’s, so needless to say, condoms weren’t high on our list of priorities.

I had an abortion at 8 weeks, something I was not proud of, but I knew I couldn’t raise a child at that age. It was the right thing to do for ME.

Fast forward 3 years and I’m involved with this guy called Adam. He was just perfect. Long dark hair, blue eyes, tattoos, unemployed and a drug addict. He was also one to dish out a bit of physical abuse every now and again. All in all he was a real catch. We’d been together all of 4 months, when I found myself pregnant again. I was on the pill, but the doctors described me as being “extremely fertile” ( who’d have thought??lol)

He’d sway between drug induced acceptance to withdrawal denial that he was the father. He told me he didn’t want to be with me, but I was not allowed to be with anyone else.... ever. He threatened to take the baby, he threatened to kill me. He was unstable, psychotic to a point, I didn’t want to be looking over my shoulder every day of my life. I didn’t want my child to have a father like that. So at 19, I had another abortion, this time, I did it for the baby.

At 20, I met Kev. He was sweet and adorable, didn’t have a drug problem, was employed and used his manners. He was everything that all of my previous boyfriends lacked. He was 24 and had just come out of a 7 year relationship with a girl named Liz.

Liz had well and truly broken his heart. She had tried for years to fall pregnant to him, it hadn’t worked. Things went from bad to worse, they moved into her parents place, he slept downstairs, she slept up, they hadn’t had sex for 6 months when she discovered she was pregnant. Kev isn’t the brightest crayon in the box, so he thought it was his. She did nothing to make him think otherwise. So while visiting her and the new baby girl in the hospital, his uncle pulls him aside and tells him it’s not his baby, but his cousin’s, who’d she’d been having an affair with for the past 12 months.

Although our romance moved swiftly, I was in no great hurry to start a family straight away. I was only 20, I had years ahead of me to do that sort of stuff. I wanted to spend some “us time”, getting to truly know each other. He knew I wanted kids, but was afraid that because of an operation for undescended testis when he was a child, and because of 7 years of unprotected sex with his ex that never produced and offspring, that he was unable to have children. I told him we could worry about that when the time comes.

At 24, the time came. We’d spent 4 years together and I had decided that I wanted to start trying. He wasn’t keen, but didn’t object when I went off the pill. I thought it would be a piece of cake, considering my “extremely fertile” diagnosis by the doctors years earlier.

25 came and went, so did 26 and by this time I was starting to get a little worried. I encouraged him to go for a sperm test, but he wasn’t interested. He did go as far as getting a referral from a doctor, but never actually “delivered the goods” so to speak.

27 came and I started talking about donor sperm. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea. I loved this man and wanted to have a family with him, but he didn’t want to raise ‘someone else’s baby“. If he couldn’t have a biological child, then he didn’t want one at all. I again suggest a SA, to see if IVF or the like was an option for us, but he just wasn’t interested.

I can’t remember exactly when it happened, but I think it must have been when I was around 26-27, Kev started a downward spiral into depression. He’d had a pretty fucked up childhood and it was at this time, that cracks began to show in our relationship. He’d always been a fairly unhappy person, but me doing as women do, thought that not only could I ”fix“ him, that I had enough ”happiness“ for the two of us. He didn’t want to leave the house, he didn’t want to entertain the idea of children, he wasn’t interested getting a job, or buying a house or getting a better car, he just wanted to stay home, smoke pot, play his playstation, look at porn and contemplate suicide. He didn’t want to see a psychiatrist , he didn’t want to take his medication, he didn’t want to feel better. He was quite content to be miserable.

Being happy for two was exhausting. I alienated my friends and family. I just didn’t have the emotional strength to put up the pretense of a happy healthy relationship. I had told him countless times that I couldn’t go on like this, that this isn’t how I wanted my life to be. I didn’t want to end up the fat old lady with a gaggle of cats milling around my ankles and spending Christmas alone. He didn’t care.

At around 28, I think I’d pretty much decided that it was over between us. I was afraid to leave in case it sent him over the edge. I know it sounds like I’m big noting myself, but I didn’t to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. That, and I guess I still had a tiny bit of hope that one day he’d wake up and be ”better“ and want to start a family with me. It never happened.

At 29, I fell in love with someone else. Kev was the one that encouraged us to spend time together. He was the one that sent us to the movies together, to the park with the dogs together. He sent us together because he thought it was ”safe“. Safe because blood would never do that. Your brother is someone to intrust your life with, and that of your partner’s. It wasn’t expected, it wasn’t how I wanted things to end with Kev. I’d wanted a clean break, I didn’t want to be added to the big list of people that had fucked him over during his life. But here I was, still living with him, but in love with someone else.

I kept waiting for the right time to tell him it was over, but there was never a right time to let him know that after nine years, I didn’t want to be with him anymore. I lied to him and told him there was no one else. I lied and told him that I wanted time to find ”me“ again.

For financial reasons, we shared the same house for 2 months, living in separate rooms, having daily D & M’s about what had gone wrong, what he could do to change things. I was exhausted.

He’d asked both of us on several occasions if anything was going on between us, which we stoutly refused. After breaking into Chad house and finding photos of us together, the truth was out. I moved into Dad’s that very day.

So fast forward to 6 months ago, after 2 1/2 years of death stares and bitter words, he finally gets himself a girlfriend, and from all reports, he’s doing alot better. I’m genuinely happy for him. For him to be happy is all I ever wanted. I hadn’t been able to, so I was glad that someone could.

She is an older lady of about 43 (he’s 37 now), has a couple of grown kids and although she’d been bad mouthing me a bit, I really didn’t care, because she was making Kev happy.

So imagine my surprise when the friendly security guard at work, Larry, says to me last night ”Did you see Val?“, which I had and thought she looked like she’d put on a fair bit of weight. I mentioned the ”chubby“ factor, and Larry says, ”well she is pregnant you know“

WHAT THE FUCK??????

I tell him that there is NO WAY that it could be KEV’S. He says it is, and not only is she pregnant now, but she also had a miscarriage to him not long after they first got together, some 6 months ago.

You almost had to pick me up off the floor.

*bitter rant about older women here, please turn away if you’re over 40, I don’t mean to offend you*

How the fuck is this humanly possible??? Well I know it’s possible, but WTF??? How on god’s green earth does this crusty old pre-menopausal woman who would have ovaries like dried up raisins manage to get knocked up by someone who apparently has a zero sperm count????

I know it can’t be ”us girls“ (Liz and I) who had the problems, Liz has 3 kids now and I’ve been pregnant twice in the past 18 months)

HOW THE FUCK???

How the fuck could he not get either of us pregnant while our ovaries were in their prime but managed to get HER knocked up???

Of course I was upset, she looks at least 6 months pregnant, and Kev is going to be a dad, I presume, much to his duress no doubt, and here I am still waiting for mine!

I’ve got two theories.

1. He’s not actually the father.

2. She’s one of those insecure women who ”falls pregnant“ to try and keep her man then ”conveniently” loses the baby.

When I was told by Larry that she’s having a scan today because “things apparently aren’t going too well, and she wants to check for Downs because of her advanced maternal age” I nearly choked. The woman is 6 months pregnant, what the fuck is she going to do if it does have problems????
Larry laughed and said “don’t fret love, she’s only 11 weeks along, that all just fat”

I guess that made me feel a little better, but still.

Is this karma’s way of coming back to bite me in the arse??
Are my two loses “pay back” for the two babies I aborted??
Is Val’s pregnancy a way for the universe to punish me for screwing Kev over and falling in love with his brother?

This sucks.

Cervix Salon

2005-11-01T15:19:00.000+10:00

Ok, what’s with all the coloured cervix searches?

First blue and now purple........

search.msn.com/results.aspx?q=purple cervix&FORM=MSNH&srch_type=0

I’m going to set the bar high and hope to have a search for every colour of the rainbow by the end of the year.

2 down, 5 to go

Crystals

2005-10-31T09:46:00.000+10:00

When I was in grade 3, there was a girl in my class by the name of Majella. She had long brown hair that was always in plaits and freckles. One day, she knelt beside my desk and whispered “Do you want to be my best friend?”. It took everything I had at 7 years of age to fight back the tears. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and said “Yes”. I don’t remember much else from that year, I’m not even sure if we played together all that much. After that year, she transfered to a different school and I never heard from her again.

I’ve always been an overly emotional person. I’ve always tried to (but usually failed miserably) hide these emotions and give the impression that I’m a “tough girl”. I swear to much, I’m sometimes mean. I try keeping people at arms length so they don’t see how emotionally weak I am.

My weakest moments are when someone shows me kindness, whether it be a small gift or encouraging words, I find myself feeling overwhelmed by emotions.

I have no problems with giving gifts or showing my appreciation (even if it’s just a heartfelt thank you), it’s when the tables are turned that I get a little weepy.

This past week has seen me blubbering twice at people’s kindness.

A regular customer, who thought I was looking a little down, gave me a Giant Freddo. I got a little teary, and she chuckled “it’s just a frog!”. But it wasn’t just a chocolate frog. It was kindness and love wrapped up in a small token gift and it meant so much to me.

Two days latter, one of the ladies I work with handed me a tiny parcel. I don’t know her all that well, we work in different departments, I work the late shift and she works the late LATE shift. Our conversations have been sporadic but I really enjoy talking with her.

I opened this tiny parcel to find this....

A hand made crystal bracelet and a note describing what each one is for.

AMETHYST:
Enhances divine connection; great meditation tool; promotes spiritual inner peace, honesty, concentration; stimulates inspiration, stability and strength; helps control addictive habits. Aids healing in the areas of the ears, bones, lungs, digestive system, respiratory tract, skin, diarrhea, swelling; encourages sobriety, relieves headaches and eases minor aches and pains.

CARNELIAN:
Promotes action, courage, helpfulness; stops confusion, inner attunement, cleanses, purifies, opens the heart, lifts emotions, protects from envy and fear and provides perceptiveness. Aids healing in the areas of gall bladder, kidney function, infertility, rheumatism and relieving cramps; stimulates the absorption of vitamins; ensures good blood circulation.

GARNET:
Promotes new beginnings, sexuality, prosperity; ends crisis; helps cope with daily problems; feminine strength, compassion, courage, attraction; eliminates energy blocks and taboos; encourages self-confidence and creativity. Aids healing in the areas of cell regeneration, immune system, arthritis and bones; accelerates wound healing, stimulates metabolism and circulation; anti inflammatory.

MOONSTONE:
Increases clairvoyance and depth of feeling and love; balances life cycles (ying yang); encourages lucid dreams and better intuition. Aligns emotions with higher self. Female power stone. Brings good fortune. Aids healing in the areas of menstrual cramps and balances internal hormone cycles to enhance fertility in women.

RHODONITE:
Encourages forgiveness; brings love and passion into action, reduces emotional imbalance, gives self confidence, strengthens friendships, promotes serenity, solves conflicts, eases trauma and bestows spiritual maturity. Aids healing in the areas of the heart, lessens scars and helps with fertility problems.

ROSE QUARTZ:
Rose Quartz is the stone of "gentle love" bringing peacefulness and calm. It also promotes beauty, purification, recovery, angelic dreams, well being, self-love, self confidence, romance and sensuality. Aids healing in the areas of depression, blood circulation, heart fortification, sexual problems and encourages fertility.

I now wear it every day, not so much for their healing possibilities, but as a gentle reminder as to how very lucky I am.

I truly am blessed to have so many wonderful people in my life.

My Cevix Needs Prozac

2005-10-24T22:39:00.000+10:00

Latest google search that had someone stumble across this blog

“what makes a cervix blue”

Now I know that my cervix may be a little incompetent, a little incorporative and may be even a smidge irrational at times, but I don’t think she’s sad.

But then, maybe she is. Maybe that’s the problem behind all this infertility stuff. My cervix is depressed and gloomy.

Could it be that I just haven't told her how much I adore her, or how pretty she is? Or how much she's wanted and needed, because truth be told, everybody likes to be told every once in a while.

Maybe I should buy her a nice bunch of flowers to cheer her up.

Not all Fertiles are Asshats

2005-10-20T01:19:00.000+10:00

Case and point, my dear friend Lisa Grace.

While I’ve watched her grow into an amazing young woman, she still astounds me with how beautiful her soul truly is.

Recently, she wrote to Marie Claire magazine in response to an article on miscarriage. You can read her letter here (her’s is the second response to the initial letter, it starts with “My Mother.....”)

Unlike my friend, let’s call her “Rachel” (who has 3 children, all one year apart), who, when told about us losing Jesse, proved herself to be a total fuckwit when she said “I know I should be greatful, but my kids gave me the shits tonight, and I nearly left home. I sometimes envey people like you, who have the freedom to do what they like”

(excuse me for a second while I go and puke in my hat)

Ok, so anywho, back to my dear sweet LG. Being the wonderful friend she is, she thought she’d try and source some info that she thought might be helpful.

She found this ...... (it takes awhile to load, but is so worth the wait)

I especially liked the tips on how to eat slivers of liver.....mmmm.....now that’s some tasty shit.

Do You Want a Piece of Cake?

2005-10-18T15:58:00.000+10:00

Is what my sister asked me as I walked down the stairs to do my washing this morning (we need to walk down the internal stairs and through her “house” to get to the laundry).

Never one to turn down cake, especially one of the chocolate variety, I of course said yes, though wondered why on earth she’d be offering me cake at this time of the morning. It was 9:45, and unlike me, I’d just crawled out of bed.

I thought that it must be a fan-fucking-tastic chocolate cake if she was so willing to share.

H: Do you want some chocolate topping with that?
(hmmm.... why on earth would I want chocolate topping on chocolate cake??)
Me: uummm, no thanks
She hands me the cake, it looks as dry as the Sahara, maybe I should have taken the topping.... or a glass of milk..... or a shot of bourbon.
H: uummm.... I have something to tell you
M: with cake in my mouth, raise an eyebrow and wonder what it is, for a split second I thought she was going to tell me she’s pregnant, but that’s just crazy now isn’t it??
H: M (our cousin) had her baby this morning
M: Oh, that’s nice
H: it’s a boy, 7lb something
M: Oh.....
H: Are you ok?
M: feeling not the slightest bit of anything, not happiness, not anger, not jealousy, zero..... Yeah... I’m ok.

Yesterday I pee’d on a stick, the last one from my swag of 20 that I purchased from ebay 3 cycles ago. Yep.... all of them, gone.

Only one line came up......again.

My periods are due today..... and still nothing. I fell bloated, and sick, and PMS-ie.

Maybe it’s just that horrid chocolate cake repeating on me.

Going Stag

2005-10-10T15:12:00.000+10:00

I’m surprised as what people will do to avoid spending time with me these days.

Saturday night, I was suppose to go to a friend’s 30th birthday party with my friend Paula.

I tried for hours to contact her to see what time we were leaving, and to see what she was wearing, it was a Hip-Hop theme party and I didn’t want to go fancy dress and look like a complete dick if she wasn’t going to dress up too.

I tried her at home...... no answer
Her mobile....... no answer
Her work....... she’s not there.

After 4 hours, and a serious bout of low self esteem creeping in, wondering if I truly was painful to be around seeing as my whole world revolves around perfectly timed sex and pee sticks, I finally found her.

Imagine my surprise when I found out that she’d gone to the extreme to avoid me. She’d gone and had a fucking STROKE and was in hospital.*

So off to the party I went, all alone.

In days gone by, this wouldn’t have worried me. I would have had a couple of drinks and introduced myself to everyone, and generally felt quite comfortable to be in a room full of strangers, flapping my gums and telling amusing stories.

Not this time. After a failed attempt to join in a conversation with a group of women (who all obviously knew each other) I found myself hulled up in a corner talking with the birthday girl’s father and step-mother and sipping water (cause we’re in that damn 2ww AGAIN and you can never be too careful can you??)

After 3 hours and countlessly having to ask the step-mum to repeat what she said (she’s Phillipino and combined with Eminem blaring from the stereo I had a hard time understanding her) I admitted defeat and told the birthday girl I was going home.

So now I can add “socializing with strangers” as another thing that infertility has stripped me of. When will it end? What else is left of me for it to take? My sanity? Some days I feel as though I’m dangerously close to losing that too. I want to scream FUCK YOU at the top of my lungs and let the bastard know that it’s not going to take all that I have, but I just don’t have the breath to do it.

* Paula is doing fine, it was a minor stroke, dangerous all the same, but not as serious as it could have been. She has no residual effects and is hopefully coming home today.

1001 Hairstyles

2005-10-06T14:18:00.000+10:00

I really wanted to post the “Virtual House” for Rissa, but that would mean I’d have to clean...... and anybody that knows me knows about my strong aversion to cleaning.....bluck!

So I’m out to get brownie points from my favourite accountant.....

This is for you Lisa Grace....

Chad has naturally frizzy hair, you couldn’t call it curly, because it doesn’t..... it just frizzes, poor bastard.

So when I first met Chad, he was about 16ish, I don’t have pictures of it, but he had this shaved head with this little foof of curls at the front. Not pretty.

Years later, when we “reconnected”, it was just as bad, but not long after he moved on to this.....

about 3 hair cuts later, the blonde was gone and we had......

Things went crazy after that.

We moved in together in December 2002 and things just went ape shit from there....

For the first year, he had “boy band hair”

At the end of 2003, he decided that he wanted corn rows, which meant growing his hair......eeekkk

he finally achieved them

but then decided to spice it up by going blue......

the colour eventually washed out, but his employers weren’t impressed with his “ethnic look” and not wanting to chop the hair, he went with the slick look

A million tubs of hair gel and other products, he finally had a gut full and went back to “boy band” .

In the last 4-5 months, we’ve gone from

to......

and as of 3 weeks ago.....

the “Vanilla Ice” cut with blonde tips (which are actually purple in the picture but has since washed out)

So there you go....... the man of my dreams and his kooky hair.

Rissa.....I promise I’ll clean up over the weekend.....maybe..... but for now I know you'll enjoy having a perv....

Tell me what you want, what you really really want

2005-10-03T11:38:00.000+10:00

Bali..........I can’t believe it has happened again. What is this world coming to? Why do these religious groups feel the need to kill and maim? Where is the love, the compassion, the kindness towards others? The bombings were aimed at “westeners”, yet the lives of so many Balinese were lost, not only in this spate of bombings, but also back in 2002. . How is it possible that Shapel Corby can get 25 years for “trafficking” drugs, yet someone who financially supports, plans and perpetrates the murder of more than 200 people gets only 2 and a half years?? How is it that the police can spot 2 pills in a hand bag but can’t spot 3 suicide bombers?? The JI did not succeed in sending a message to “westeners”, what they inevitably have done is caused the economic destruction of their own country. There is no “glory” in killing innocent people.

My heart goes out to those families who’s lives have been touched by this tragedy.

..................................................................................................................

So what’s been happening with me..... well not alot. I’m at a bit of a loss lately as to what to write about, so I thought I’d leave it up to you guys to decide.

The Love Story..................the episode of Springer you missed
You’ll Have To Wait............the very short, yet amusing most recent conversation with my sister
Snatch and Grab............... Friday night at the supermarket

Stories with pictures

The Powder Room........... nothing like you expected
Red Red Red............ ways to celebrate another failed cycle
Virtual House............ a virtual tour of our newish home
Oh My God............ the 1001 hairstyles of The Chad

The choice is yours folks..........

So I Went To School With An Axe Murderer....

2005-09-20T13:46:00.000+10:00

I had to work on Sunday,( much to my disgust), and after selling, what felt like, a couple of hundred papers, the headline “Axe Killer Baby Bid” had me most curious. I finally got to sit down during my lunch break and read the article. Well wasn’t I surprised when the “Axe Murderer” in question was actually someone who was in my same grade during high school! I didn’t have much to do with him in school. Quite frankly, he scared the be-jesus out of me, which is saying alot seeing as I myself was one of the “tough kids”.

Many many years ago, one of the accomplice’s sister was a friend of mine and I was unfortunate enough to hear all the gruesome details of this heinous crime. For the sheer fact that this bastard committed this murder while there was a 2 yr old in the house, should be reason enough for him never to be allowed to have kids, let alone expect the government to fork out money so he and his skanky wife* can do IVF.
I’m glad the government said no, but I’m pissed at our judicial system that would even let his appeal go before a judge. What makes him think that he deserves the right to be able to father a child while incarcerated for murdering someone else’s? I can’t believe the audacity of this bloke. I hope like hell that he doesn’t make parole next year, the world would be a far better place without little “Trevors” running around anytime soon.

*I have no knowledge on who she actually is, but anyone who could marry someone like this must have a certain degree of “skanky-ness” about them.

I've learnt a lesson today....

2005-09-15T00:33:00.000+10:00

When you have an arse like this......

you SHOULD NOT wear undies like THIS.....

They creep, they crawl...... it's just NASTY!

I spent the whole night at work picking them out of my butt.... it wasn't pretty.

Would You?

2005-09-09T10:53:00.000+10:00

This was dropped in our letter box the other day......

If you don’t have time to read it, here’s the short version.

This woman is looking for a kidney for her son. Because it is illegal to buy/sell body organs, she wants to form a friendship and then harvest your kidney.

I understand that during desperate times, people will do almost anything in the hope that someone, anyone, would be willing to make such a sacrifice to give their loved one the gift of life.

The more I think about it, the more it tears at my heart. Here is this mother, who loves her son and is fearful of losing him to this terrible disease, has gone as far as a letter box drop, in the hope that someone will be selfless enough to donate an organ and save his life.

Have I considered it....... yes....briefly......

Would I actually do it? No. The fact that I have the wrong blood group has a little to do with it, also the fact that I smoke, am overweight, and have lead a semi-rockstar life with all the drinking and drugs I’ve done in the past would make me a not so exceptional candidate.

It’s the “what if’s” that have me answering a resounding NO. What if I have kidney problems in the future? What if one day one of my family need a kidney?

But then........if it was me or someone I love, and no one was a match, wouldn’t I reach out in the hope that someone would find it in their heart to be so generous?

None the less

2005-09-03T12:40:00.000+10:00

***Graphic post. Please know that it not my intention to offend or shock. I just wanted his story to be told*******

Honey!

We were getting ready for bed, he’d just gone down stairs to grab some clothes off the line. I’d just sat down on the toilet and felt a gush of water and something slide out of me. I’d had this feeling before. I’d passed a massive clot the size of a liver just before losing AJ.
Another clot? It couldn’t possibly be. There’d been no warnings, no pain, no bleeding like last time. I didn’t want to look. I couldn’t look. I had to look.
There was our baby.

HONEY!!!!

I could hear his footsteps up the back steps.

What??

I stood up, blood gushing down my leg.

The baby..... I’ve just lost the baby.

He held me

What do you mean?

The baby, it just fell, I’m sorry angel, I’m so so sorry.

Are you sure?

I pointed to the toilet. I could barely look again.

We need to..... I can’t..... please get our baby.

I couldn’t watch as he knelt down and fished out our tiny baby.
The silence.....
The deafening silece......
The warmth of the blood flowing down my legs.
I couldn’t look at him.
I didn’t want to see contempt in his eyes.
This was my fault.
My body.
My fault.
Because I smoked.
Guilt.
My fault.
Because I was over weight.
Shame.
My fault.
My body.
My crappy body.
My fault.
My fault.
My fault.
I remained calm. Removed. Detached.
I peered over his shoulder. His right shoulder. His right hand held our tiny baby. I reached out and moved that tiny leg.

A boy........ our little boy.

What do we do now?

The blood, I’m bleeding, we’re going to have to go to the hospital.

I reach out and touch our tiny son’s chest. He’s still warm.
I grab a towel and hold it between my legs.
I call the ER.
He sits on the arm of the couch. He stares at his son.
We need something to put him on.
I get him a tea towel, clean from the draw.
Standing in the middle of the lounge room.
He ever so carefully moves him to the makeshift blanket.
We stand, like in a family portrait. Me by his side, him holding his son.
Then. Unbelievably.
Our baby stretches out his tiny arm. It’s almost like a last desperate hope to be saved.

He’s still alive Chan, quick, call the ambulance, he’s still alive Chan, he’s still alive!

The agony in his voice. The despair.

There’s nothing they can do, he’s too little, it’s too early.....

Why am I so calm, why am I so impassive?
I try calling my Dad. His home, his mobile, his work number. No answer.
I have a shower.
He holds his son, studying every inch of his tiny body.
I call my Mum, I get my sister. I tell her we’re on our way to the hospital.
He needs to get dressed.
I wander through the house, holding our son like he was a new born, cradled in my arm.

I’m sorry..... I’m sorry...... I’m sorry......I love you..... please know I love you....

He drives. Our son in my lap. I stare out the window, detached, too afraid to look down.

Why? The ultra sound two days ago....... everything was perfect...... why....14 weeks.... I really thought everything was going to be ok.....this time......

I don’t know.....

Did you see his tiny fingernails?

Yes angel..... I did....

Why?

The hospital. Incompetent. Insensitive.
He holds our son as I hop on to the bed.

And what makes you think you’ve had a miscarriage?

Can you not see our son???
The bleeding won’t stop.
He holds my hand. He holds our son.
They poke and prod. No pain relief.
He listens as I beg them to stop.
She comes and takes our son away.
They consult.
I can see our son, across the corridor, in a jar of formaldehyde, on the bench. I don’t draw his attention to it.
Emergency D & C.
He waits.
He’s the first thing I see when I wake up.

I love you

The first thing I hear.
He holds my hand through to the early hours of the morning. He sleeps with his head rested on my bed.
He’s told to leave as the sun comes up.
Women’s ward..... think of the others....... don’t want to wake up with a man in the room......women’s ward.
He leaves. His son. His love.
He goes home to an empty house.
Alone.
He sleeps.

Later. I’m home. Mum, Dad, sister leave.
We’re alone.
We talk.
We cry. He holds me.
It’ll be ok. We still have each other.
He’s sorry.
For not understanding how hard it was for me when we lost AJ.
Just a blob on an ultra sound picture. He didn’t get to see him. Hold him. It didn’t seem real. The first time.
He is my rock. Even though his heart is shattered.
He gives me hope. Next time. It will happen. We will have a baby.
He purges me of my guilt.
He soothes my soul.
And he loves me.

Two days later. A shopping center.
Strollers, prams, pregnant bellies
Babies
Babies
Babies
Everywhere.
Heading home, he turns to me.

Out of all those babies that I saw today, none of them was a beautiful as Jesse.

A tear falls.
I reach for his hand.
I love you.

Tomorrow is Father’s Day.
He’s a father..... twice over.
He’s a Dad to two boys.
Two boys who he will never be able to teach how to play basketball or change the oil on a car. Who he will never hear giggle and laugh at his silly antics. Who will never feel how unbelievably safe it feels to be wrapped in his arms.
He is a father none the less.

I just wish it was different......

Thanks for the memories....

2005-08-28T20:30:00.000+10:00

Last night, I watched my beloved Lions get pummeled by a massive 138 points which in turn, ended their season. And for the first time in 7 years, I'm at a loss at what to do during September.

I also watched, as the Saints club song rang out in the back ground, my favourite player, Darryl White, being chaired off the ground by his team mates. An illustrious career coming to an end after 14 years.

My unnatural obsession with DJ started in '99 when he first caught my eye during a mid-season Vic vs the Allies clash at the Gabba. He took an amazing speckie in front of us, and from that day, I was hooked.

I could go on and on about his stats and figures, his state and country representations, the three premierships and his work outside of football with kids through the AFL's "Life's a Ball" program, his great camaraderie and how his is revered by his team mates and opposition players alike, but I don't want to bore you more than I have.

Though he wasn't a superstar compared to the likes of Michael Voss or EJ Whitten, he played the game he loves with all of his heart.

I want to say , thank you, to the player who always had me on the edge of my seat, eagerly anticipating your deftness each time you stepped out onto the field. Who more often than not had me out of my seat and on my feet with amazing arial stunts. The player who dazzled the masses with pure brilliance.

In 20 years, when people will be asking "Darryl who?" I will remember, with great fondness, the brilliance of the man who on a winter's night in 1999, leapt into the air to grab a footy and landed squarely, with both feet, in my heart and ignited my passion for football.

....Thank you for the magic.....

Super Size Me

2005-08-26T21:47:00.000+10:00

If I was on Typepad, this would definitely be filed in the TMI section, so if you're squeamish, you might want to look away now.

I first got my period when I was 12.... no wait... I think I was 11....
For an 11 year old, it was the worst day of my life. Though my mother tried reassuring me that it was natural and I was a woman now, handed me a Stayfree Maxi Pad and a book and sent me to my room to read up on what weird and wonderful things were happening to my body. I screamed and I cried. I didn't WANT to become a woman, not at freakin 11 years of age.
These were the days when maxi pads were truly MAXI, long before the words "ultraslim" and "anti-leak" came into existence. Wearing a maxi pad was akin to having a rolled up Saturday's addition of the Courier Mail in your underwear. Leakage was a given, so was having to wash your knickers out in the hand basin each night.

It was something that wasn't spoken about. Secret women's business. Not so much of a secret when you walked around looking like you had a load in your pants. Then there was the stress of positioning it "just right" on your underpants. Too far forward and it looked like you had a penis, too far back and it looked like you taken a dump in your dacks.

It wasn't until I was 13 that I discovered tampons. I was finally free from those cumbersome maxis and people could no longer tell when I had my periods.....(except for that one time with a very embarrassing "string incident", but we won't go into that).

In my late teens, God invented ultraslim pads with WINGS! Though I still had an aversion to using them, cause....well.... who wants to look at that mess every time you go to the loo??

I was in my mid 20's when I'd mentioned I'd been getting headaches (while having my period and using tampons) to a friend. She sent me that email (which has since been found to be a hoax) and I quickly switched to all cotton tampons. My headaches disappeared and I continued on my merry way.

During this whole time, my periods had been "regular". I used regular tampons, regular pads, I was a regular girl. I felt sorry for those women I saw with SUPER tampons in their shopping baskets and wondered why companies would make duel packets that contained both super and regular pads.

My miscarriage with AJ in 2004 was caused by an infection, which caused a blood clot to form on his placenta. From that day on I decided that I wasn't going to be putting anything up my cooter, save the occasional sterilized speculum and dear Chad's ......... uumm..... (do I have to write penis??)

Out went the tampons, the vibrators, the dildo and the like. So my "special draw" lays empty, and my self in the bathroom contains only pads.....of the ultraslim kind...with wings....... regular......of course.... cause I'm a regular kind of gal.

After losing Jesse earlier this year, I was still a "regular", though a little heavier than usual. I boiled it down to what so many people had told me about your periods getting heavier after having kids.

But...... after the hysteroscopy in June, things have changed. Oh how they've changed. Last month I just barely hung on to being "regular".... this month.... no chance.

I'm now the girl you find wondering down the health and beauty isle at Coles with the dual "super/regular" pack of pads in my basket.

Gone is the penis/load dilemma, because they are, after all, ultraslim, but has me stumped is why do these supers have to be so damn long??? They cover every conceivable inch between my pubic hair and half way up my butt crack.

So now I'm back to worrying that if someone goes to pinch my arse they'll pinch an inch of pad instead.

A Whole Week Already???

2005-08-25T22:14:00.000+10:00

I can't believe it's been a whole week since I've written anything......

I had a surprise delivery this morning from the wonderful people of Reflex. About a month ago, they had a promotion on their site for their new recycled paper. All you had to do was enter your name etc and you could be sent a ream.....and guess who was lucky enough to be sent one?? ME!! I know this mustn't seem very exciting to some of you.....but for a stationary junkie.....mmmmm.....paper......
Not to forget that it was FREE!!!

Our new bed also arrived today....which makes me a VERY happy girl. Our old mattress was so awful. You could feel the springs sticking in your back and the "clunk clunk" noises it made when ever you moved was the ultimate mood killer.
So after sleeping on the mattress from hell for the past 12 months, we decided to go all out and treat ourselves to a good quality one. We are now the proud owners of a Slumberpedic Pillow Top (just the mattress, not the base) and now I can't WAIT to go to bed tonight! It's sooo fluffy..... *sigh*

AND, (if things couldn't possibly get any better) I found my copy of Photoshop which I had been sorely missing since my computer savvy father came over and upgraded my Mac and wiped EVERYTHING from my hard drive. I've even been toying with the idea of personalizing this blog..... It'll probably never eventuate, cause I'm so damn lazy.... but it's nice to think about being artsy fartsy.....lol

It's also CD1 for me....... not that I'm surprised. We didn't exactly time the whole "bumping of uglies" thing right this month what with my periods coming 4 days early last month it really threw me off with working out dates etc. I know it's not THAT hard to work out the dates when I should "O", but.... Ok.... I have no excuse..... we just kind of forgot......lol Despite knowing that the possibility of me being pregnant this month was about 1000 - 1, I've still managed to go through a massive amount of pee sticks. How many.....welll.....uuuummmmm....... 5 ...... 7 ....... ok 9! If I knew it wasn't the right time, why the hell did I find myself testing EVERY MORNING for the last week??? I have a serious problem.....

Kill me.... kill me now

2005-08-18T12:50:00.000+10:00

I don't know where he found it, probably brought forth from the depths of hell by some evil sprite, but THIS is my nephew's new favourite toy.....

Not only does it bring back horrid memories of primary school when a recorder was essential and part of the "book list", but the noise is enough to send anyone CRAZY, especially when a 3 year old gets hold of one. What is worse (thought it couldn't get any worse hmmm????) is when a 26 year old man gets hold of it and tries to play the Star Wars sound track.......again..... and again....... and again..... trying to get it "just right". Honey..... give it up.....please.....for the love of all that's holy.

Damn those little recorder sprites.......

On a sadder note, please pop on over to see Jill, she's having a bit of a rough trot at the moment.

I just wish I had the right words to comfort you.......
Thinking of you heaps Jill.

Survivor's Guilt

2005-08-15T15:21:00.000+10:00

Since the arrival of J's baby, I'd been having a bit of a hard time. The emptiness I felt what so overwhelming, I found myself crying oh too often mostly at improper times and in inappropriate places.

Thursday morning, I woke up and had such a feeling of calm about me. Gone was the feeling of emptiness, the sadness, the despondency. In it's place was a certainty that everything was going to be ok. It was almost like someone had whispered in my ear while I slept, reasuring me everything was going to be alright.

So I emailed J and told her I'd be over on Monday.....today.

This morning I met little Wyatt. I held him and yes I shed a tear, but it was nothing like I had dreaded. I didn't feel an overwhelming urge to run away with him. I didn't resent him. He was just a tiny little baby...... someone else's baby..... he wasn't my baby.

While we talked over coffee, she mentioned that her sister, D, was also having a hard time dealing with it all. D was diagnosed with blighted ovum at her 12 week scan. J and I were 7 weeks along at the time.

J cried, because, although she loves her new son, she can't help but feel guilty that out of the three of us, her baby was the only one that will ever get to run in the sunshine. She feels bad because Wyatt is baby number 5 for her, D only has one son, and me.... well we know the score on that one.

For the first time in a long time I was able to tell her with confidence, that it was all going to be ok.......that it was all going to be alright.

Giving in

2005-08-15T01:38:00.000+10:00

I swore that I wasn't going to become obsessed with TTC this time around. I've never charted my temps or monitored my CM. What I have had is an extremely unhealthy relationship with pregnancy tests, sometimes doing 4 or 5 during that crappy 2 week wait.

I've always found that it's easier to deal with the evil red witch appearing if I knew she was coming.

I wasn't going to do it again. I was just going to take things as they came & try and be more relaxed about the whole thing.

Phhhttttttt. Who was I trying to kid?

Hello ebay, my dearest friend, my HPT dealer......

I bought 20....... goes to show how optimistic I am about falling pregnant any time soon huh?

New Age Pot Smokers

2005-08-12T13:22:00.000+10:00

Some of you know that my oh-so-glamorous job is that of a shop assistant at a supermarket. No.... I'm not proud of my job, I know I can do better than being stuck in a shit job with zero room for advancement. But it pays the bills and, I think I've mentioned before the other reasons why I stay here.... anywho.....

I was in charge of the cigarette counter the other day, serving a customer, when this bloke, lets call him Drug Fucked Gypsy, came up and in a not so quite voice says

DFG: "Oy, is there a tobacconist around here"
Me: thinking he was incredibly rude for not waiting his turn because i am TOTALLY anal about manners and waiting your turn etc, I ignored him.
DFG: "HEY I SAID IS THERE A TOBACCONIST AROUND HERE"
Me: (apologizing to my customer, turn to the man) there is one down in the next complex
DFG: (obviously thinking I have a hearing impairment ) DO THEY SELL BONGS?
Me: ummmm, I'm not sure
DFG:(with great urgency) I REALLY NEED A BONG

and with that, he walked off in search of his "bong"

When did it become necessary to have a bong to smoke pot? I remember way back when, that an old OJ bottle and a cone made out of the paper from a cigarette packet was enough.

Never the right words

2005-08-09T10:34:00.000+10:00

I want to say thank you to all of you who have left comments and sent emails.

It never ceases to amaze me the amount of support and understanding that you all give, not only to me, but to the countless women out here in blogland.

I, on the other hand, am a serial lurker. It's not often I comment on blogs, though I read them religiously. My heart breaks with each and every one of you when transfers fail, no heartbeat is detected, every announcement of CD1 and heart wrenching tributes to your lost little ones. Likewise is the joy I feel when you see that second pink line, your betas double or you receive news of imminent adoptions.

Please know that, although I may not leave comments, your words and the stories that are your life touch my heart. I wish you all so much, but I can never find the right words.

To all those that let myself and other blogger know that they care, thank you.

Thank you so very much.....

Pain begets Joy....one day

2005-08-05T08:45:00.000+10:00

You may remember my dear friend J who was due the same day as I was.......

At 6:10 am this morning (Thursday), little Wyatt made his way into the world weighing 6lb 1oz .

Her sister, D, called me with the news not 2 hours after he was born. I thought that I had prepared myself for this, knowing that the kid had to come out eventually. How wrong I was.

With each word, my heart broke a little more.....
"J's" ......crack
"had" ......crack
"the" ......crack
"baby"......crack
"it's" ......crack
"a" ......crack
"boy"......crack

And I cried...... and cried......and cried.
I want to feel joy and happiness, but as selfish as I am, I am wallowing in self pity. I want to be there for my friend, but it just hurts so damn much.

I guess I'll give it a couple of days. I'll wait till all the other kids go back to school and the dust settles a little and then go around and see them.

I know I'll cry, I know it'll hurt , I know that J will understand and cry with me because along with being such a truly wonderful friend....... she wanted our baby just as much as we did.

Welcome to the world little Wyatt.......

Today

2005-08-03T06:10:00.000+10:00

Today......
I should have labored you into this world

Instead
        You fell
                silently,
                        without warning
Today.....
We should have had kodak moments
happy faces
a bundle of joy
held in the crook of my arm

Instead
        We have only memories
                of our little boy
                        who we nestled so carefully
                                in the palm of our hand
Today
You should have
made your mark on the world

Instead
        without warning......
                silently.......
                        you fell.......

Nothing like I'd planned

2005-07-30T10:08:00.000+10:00

Yesterday, my intentions were not to post about the sniveling DrJ, but to pour my heart out about how much it sucks to have gotten my period......again.

Although I'd tried so hard to stay as pessimistic as possible and down play the probability that I may have been pregnant as a result of our little "accident", deep down I had really hoped that I was.

I'd hoped that the torturous journey through yet another series of two week waits was over for me, that I'd be knocked up and the only thing I'd have to worry about was keeping the little sucker in there.

I'd hoped beyond hope that I would be pregnant again before the 3rd of August, my due date with Jesse.

Wednesday morning, 10 DPO, I crossed my legs while desperately searching for that one remaining pregnancy test that I knew I had, but couldn't remember exactly where I'd packed it when we'd moved. Eventually I found it, peed on the stick and held my breath....... and waited..... and hoped..... and waited.
But only one line came up.
When I wiped, there was a bit of blood, and knowing that my period NEVER comes early, I consulted Dr Google and found that implantation bleeding can occur anywhere up to 12 days DPO. So I held on to a tiny bit of hope.
Thursday lunch time saw me lose any remaining hope I'd been holding on to.
What is my body doing?? Was it that I "bragged" about how easily it returned to it's normal cycle post hysteroscopy?

I can't believe how foolish I was to think that I could accidently fall pregnant.

Social Graces

2005-07-29T23:28:00.000+10:00

I usually have the greatest amount of admiration and respect for my father, but today, he almost did his dash.... and if he wasn't my father, I'm sure as shit that I would never have anything to do with him. All this sounds rather sensationalized I'm sure, and in the light of morning, it may be just that, but right here, right now, I'm one pissed off kitty.

When we were kids and my parents were still married, there was an obvious tension between my Da and my mother's mother. She was a devout Christian who went to church every Sunday, never drank, smoked or swore. Apart from the smoking part, my Da was/is the complete opposite. My grandmother almost had kittens when my mother brought him home, he was every good christians nightmare. My Da was a real bloke's bloke. He played football on Saturdays, drank copious amounts of piss before, during and after the game, swore like a wharfie and the only time he set foot on church ground was if he'd taken a wrong turn on his way home from the pub. He was also a scratcher, though not a spitter.

My grandmother was hell bent on leading him towards the light and showing him what being a christian was the ONLY way to be. She tried, she failed, she despised him for not converting, he despised her for not excepting him the way he was. Many a time, as a child, I recall Da saying "well if she doesn't except me the way I am, she can blow it out her arse".

This set the first moral marker in my life, it taught me that it was ok to be me. Except me as I am or don't except me at all. You don't need to change who you are for anyone else, it's ok to be who you are.....warts and all.

I guess this problem started a little over 12 months ago when Da's friend Jeff, mentioned that he was concerned that my nephew Caleb, who was not yet 2 at the time, and who he'd spent a total of 20 minutes with, was speech impaired or possibly retarded because he wasn't not speaking correctly and that it should be looked into asap. This from a man who had only received his teaching degree a mere 2 years earlier at the ripe old age of 49 and had since spent his "teaching" time with Japanese exchange students helping them improve their english. I mean for fucks sake, the kid isn't even 2 yet, he's still crapping in a nappy and Dr Jeff is diagnosing speech problems, give the kid a break. So Da gets on the blower to my sister and reports Dr Jeff's expert assvice. This doesn't go down well with my sister, or me. Although we fight light cats and dogs, we are fiercely protective of each other.

12 months on and Caleb's speech is coming along just fine, thank you Dr Jeff.

Making an unsolicited diagnosis, making judgments, giving assvice and the general smarminess that oozes from his pores, didn't bath him in a good light with "us kids", Chad included.

So that brings us to today, when Da tells me that Dr Jeff wasn't too impressed at the innuendoes that were thrown in his general direction about his sexuality by Chad. I'm stumped, I don't have a CLUE what he's on about. Chad hasn't seen Dr J for months, since last time he got a lift to the football with us......... 2 fucking months ago.

Now Chad isn't one to do "innuendoes" of any description, it's just not his style. What Chad DOES do is camp it up big time. Both he and Da have a running joke about being "bent" and they both play it up. It even goes as far as Chad doing the Marilyn Monroe "Happy Birthday" song especially for him every year for his birthday, (minus the dress and wig of course) which he thinks if hilarious.

Though my memory isn't the best, what I do recall of that night in the car was a conversation between Da and Chad where they carried on in their usual manor, camping it up, Da calling Chad "possum" or "sweetie" or something to that effect. It was just the "usual" banter between Chad and Da. There were no innuendoes thrown in any direction, there was barely a curt "hey" tossed in his general direction when he hopped in the car because, frankly, we don't like him.

I tell Da that it's absurd, that obviously Dr J has his head planted so firmly up his own arse he is obviously confused between what was really said, and what he thinks was implied. Da then breaks into a tirade of what is "socially excepted". That although we carry on like this with each other, other people (read Jeff) may take offense to it. We should watch our p's and q's within social groups (read around Jeff) because someone may just punch you in the face if they dislike your behavior or may misconstrue what you say.

When I tell him that someone who is secure in their sexuality wouldn't be upset by "our behavior", that someone who didn't think the world revolved around them wouldn't assume that things said were automatically innuendoes about their sexuality, he lets lose with another barrage of crap and how I need to "behave" in public.

I'm not socially retarded. I know how to and when to act appropriately. I know when to curb my language (cause I swear alot, if you hadn't already noticed) and when I can let lose with a onslaught of appropriately placed *f* words.

I'm the kind of person who tells it like it is. I'm the kind of person who will tell you when you have lippy on your teeth or that your fly is undone. I'm the kind of person who will tell you how great your hair looks or commend you for doing a great job with your kids when you feel guilty as hell for just smacking them in a public place and every one is giving you the evil eye. I'm the kind of person that will tell you that you're rude if you think just because you're old it gives you the right to push to the front of the line, or insist that you say "please" when you want me to do something for you.

I'm not the kind of person who pretends to be someone or something I'm not.
I'm not going to change the way I am because someone may misconstrue something I say. That's not the way I was raised. In turn, I don't expect Chad, my family or my friends, to "be" anything but themselves, even as embarrassing at it is at times, because that is who they are, and who they are is the reason I love them......

So Dr J, for being a girlie girl and having a big sook to my Da about how hurt your feelings were by something you imagined, instead addressing the problem with us, for the shit you stirred up and the screaming match that ensued and for thinking you are important enough to make judgments on our behavior ....this is for you....

oh and while I'm at it.....

"If you can't except us the way we are, blow it out your arse"

Nurse Maid/Boob Poker

2005-07-26T13:50:00.000+10:00

The Chad has been sick with the flu. Not your normal every day garden variety common cold, but a raging fever, delirious, calling out in his sleep, kind of flu. Hence my absence, I've been playing nurse maid. He's back at work today, not 100%, but better than he was a week ago.

In light of the "condom incident", The Chad and I have had many a discussion about going down the road of trying again. I thought it may have just been delusional ramblings brought on by the fever that may have made him say that he wants to start trying again, that somehow he'd forgotten already how traumatic losing Jesse was, but no.

He doesn't want to wait until October. He wants a family. He wants to have a baby........ with me. This still blows me away. As semi-defective as I am (I'm talking physically, not mentally, cause that's a whole different kettle of fish), this wonderful man wants to risk having his heart broken again and try to have a baby with me.

The past week has seen my analyze every niggle and twinge in my uterus. I'm constantly poking my boobs to see if they are sore. I'm wondering if this insatiable appetite is because of something other than just eating because I'm freaking out thinking I may be.

In all honesty, I don't think I'm really ready to be on this horrendous rollercoaster ride again. The fear of losing yet another baby is overwhelming, but no amount of time is going to make that fear subside. I guess it doesn't matter if it's 1 month, 2 months, 6 months from now, I'm going to have to eventually deal with it and jump back on the horse......so why wait...... it's not like I'm getting any younger.

If it doesn't work this month, I've already got a back up plan...... I'm going to steal Panda's fertility cooter and whack a pumpkin the back of my cupboard.......

Luck of the Irish

2005-07-18T14:34:00.000+10:00

Imagine this.....
A young (ish) couple, deeply in love, coming together after being separated for weeks days..... blah blah blah..... you remember how the rest of the story goes.....

This is where the story gets interesting.

Seeing as the young(ish) couple are physically able to, but not yet mentally ready to start trying again, their choice of contraception is condoms (you can see where this is going can't you)

Upon "dismount" (and I scored a 8.2 if any of you are interested..... I'm no Nadia Comaneci but I give it a crack) the afore mentioned condom is missing. Not broken..... M.I.S.S.I.N.G!! It's not on the penis, it's not on the bed, it's not tangled up in the bed sheets ..... it's GONE!

The Chad has a fish around and proclaims that it's not "there" either.

"It has to be there"
"jump up and down, that might make it come out"
"I don't think that'll make it come out honey
"just TRY would you!"

For a moment I thought it was just his sick and perverted need to see a naked fat chick jumping up and down, until I saw the look of despair on his face.

"Well don't just stand there! get some clothes on! I have to take you to the hospital to get it out."

A couple of deep coughs and a trip to the ER was averted.

Here's where the story gets REALLY interesting.

6 weeks, 4 days ago, I had my hysteroscopy and D & C
4 days later, much to my surprise, I get my period. Here I was thinking that they were going to give the ute a good old clean out, obviously my body wasn't too impressed with the cleaners and proceeded to re-clean to her standards.
Bang on 4 weeks later, my body hasn't missed a beat, the D & C hasn't, as I had feared, messed with my cycle and I get my period.
2 days ago, I have crampy like pains, I'm not sure if this is ovulation or gas.
Today, the missing condom incident.

We tried for 9 months to fall pregnant the first time....... 5 months the second time..... here we are, trying not to fall and what happens....

I'd laugh at the irony of it all if I wasn't so busy crapping my dacks.

The Substitues

2005-07-17T00:49:00.000+10:00

Due to the fact that my sister is a wanker and has extremely poor taste in men, my nephew doesn't have much of a father figure in his life.

He hasn't seen his father since Christmas, somewhat because of this nasty "consent order" crap that seems to be taking forever to make it's way through the courts, but mostly because the guy is a utter fuckwit. I won't go into it all, cause no doubt it would bore you to tears, but the guy is a A grade tool who thinks that sitting on the dole and paying $11 a fortnight to support his child gives him the right to call my sister charming names like "dickhead" "stupid mole" and "fat pig" in front of their child and to see his son when ever he wants, for as long as he wants. He didn't think there was a problem with bringing the kid home at 7pm when he was suppose to be home at 4..... he is, after all, HIS son.

So needless to say, being cooped up in the house with only his mother to play with day in day out, the kid craves company. I try to, at least once a day, sit on the steps with him and read a book. I love reading, and in a small way, I hope to pass that love of books onto him, so reading is my "thing" that I do with him. Though I must say if I have to read that damn Wiggles book again I think I'll vomit.

The Chad's area is "boy stuff". Playing soldiers, kicking the footy, all the sort of stuff that a boy would do with his dad.

H doesn't do alot of things with him. She's more than happy to plop him in front of the TV all day to watch dvd's or let him run around in the back yard by himself for hours while she sits on the computer "chatting". He doesn't attend play groups or have play dates, she doesn't take him to the park to play with other kids.

My sister takes the saying "it takes a village to raise a child" to the extreme. She thinks it's our "duty" to play with him, educate and entertain him. Don't get me wrong, I love Caleb to death and I love the time we spend together, but it is her responsibility as a parent to do these things for him, not off load them onto the other "villagers", and at times, we resent being forced to do these things. I hate having to look at the sadness in his eyes when I tell him I don't have the time to read him a story or take him to the park, because I know that if we don't take him, nobody will.

We didn't volunteer for these roles, it's just something that's happened.... some days we don't do it with too much enthusiasm, some days we just don't have the time, but we try. We do it for Caleb.....

Back in the saddle

2005-07-13T15:08:00.000+10:00

Imagine this.....
A young (ish) couple, deeply in love, coming together after being separated for weeks....
He takes her in his arms, they kiss with such passion, her breath catches in her throat. As the moon light streams through the bedroom window, he lays her softly on silken sheets, slowly undressing her, kissing and caressing her body. Then, he is above her, looking deeply into her eyes, he enters her.....slowly..... she moans softly, her fingers digging into his broad shoulders. Passionately, ever so slowly, they make love for hours, relishing the feeling of this "togetherness" that has been forbidden for so long. In unison, they reach climax, and lay spent in each others arms, whispering words of love.

*sigh*

That's how I thought our first tumble in the hay would have been after 6 verrrryyyy long weeks would have been.....

We managed the passionate kissing, skipped the moonlight through the bedroom window and the laying down on silken sheets, the undressing was more like two animals clawing at each other and wham-bam-thank-you-mam, it was all over for both of us in a MASSIVE 4 and a half minutes.

Purely poetry in motion.....lol.

For the Birds

2005-07-12T02:03:00.000+10:00

The Chad hasn't had many relationships in the past. Actually, I'm only his second long term relationship.

In his words, they were just kids playing house. She was just 16, he was 18. They were together for 3 or so years. He ended the relationship because she was playing around behind his back, but true to his enormous heart, he never held a grudge and has never said unkind things about her. She went on to have a baby with the guy she played around with, and although we live in the same area, he hasn't bumped into her in almost 4 years........until last week....

Alice Cooper had a concert where The Chad works, and being a huge Alice fan, she was there.

They spoke for a bit, just the usual polite sort of crap that you do when you're not all that interested in what the other person has to say.... the "so what have you been up to...... where are you living now......blah blah blah".

Then she asked "Do you have any kids?".

He said "Yes....but no" and then went on to tell her about our miscarriages, which is something that The Chad doesn't usually like to talk about.

She then said "Oh....that's so sad.......... I could be a surrogate for you"

Thanks for the offer....but there is nothing I would loath more than to have MY Chad's ex girlfriend carry a baby for me. BLUCK! And besides, the girl isn't right in the head. She's been hanging around "The Crow" (as mentioned in my post here ) and now introduces herself as "Griffin". Be fucked if she thinks I'd let a chick who thinks she's a mystical bird carry a baby for me!

Arseholes

2005-07-07T23:04:00.000+10:00

Dear Chantal,
We noticed that you did not attend your Antenatal Clinic appointment on the 5th of July 2005.
It is important to attend your Antenatal appointment to ensure your continued well being and that of your unborn baby/ies.
Please contact the Antenatal Clinic, as soon as possible, on xxxxxxxx to make an appointment

Thanking you
Ms I'mAThoughtlessPratt
Admin Officier
Mater Mothers Hospital

You'd think these clowns would get their act together.

62.5%

2005-07-04T13:39:00.000+10:00

I've been driving myself insane the last couple of days searching the net for success stories of women with bicornuate uteri. Well it hasn't just been the last couple of days.......more like the last 2 weeks. Do you think I can find any? Of course not. What I did find was a report written by some medical boob who's obvious intention, back in 1997, was to put the fear of god into me about trying again.
He/she writes........"The reproductive potential of the bicornuate uterus showed
a live birth rate of 62.5%"
and
"The bicornuate
uteri (n 5 26) had a total of 56 pregnancies; 26 were term
pregnancies, 14 preterm deliveries, two late miscarriages and
14 early abortions."
What sucks is that they didn't elaborate on the "preterm deliveries" how early did these little ones come? Did they survive? Did they have complications? Where there any procedures performed to assist these women that carried to term? Did they need a stitch or bed rest or voodoo witch doctors to perform rituals with goats blood and chant at the stroke of midnight when the moon is full?

And like a record that is stuck......all that I keep hearing in my head is "62.5%, 62.5%, 62.5%".

Do I have what it takes to battle the odds and try to have a baby? Could I handle having a premie baby and having to go to the NICU every day for months? Am I counting my chickens before they hatch? Is there any truth to the "third time lucky" theory?

If anyone knows of any women out there in blogland with a bicornuate uterus, could you be kind enough to point me in the right direction...... I feel like I'm chasing my own tale. I'd love to be able to be armed to the hilt with information so when I go to find a doctor, I'll know all the right questions to ask.

Apart from doing my head in with the whole stats thing, life has been pretty damn good.

Little Ms Crotchetty

2005-06-29T22:46:00.000+10:00

I've been feeling like crap lately....... I'm as grumpy as all hell.... I don't know if I'm suffering from a sever case of PMS or it's the lack of sex that's making me feel like ripping people's heads off.

Work is really sucking the life out of me too. Not that I've been putting in 40-50 hour weeks, but having to be nice alllll the fucking time is just soooooo draining. I hate working in retail.... why the fuck did I listen to the careers councilor who suggested that I was excel in that line of work because I was a "people person"??? People person my arse. Give me 5 minutes alone with that councilor and I'll show her how much of a people person I am.....

Oh, and just more proof as to how much of a slack bitch I am, I didn't call my friend J for her birthday..... so.....
............Happy Birthday J.......
Hope you had a smashing day.

I got one of those stat thingamajigs the other day. You know the ones that tell you how people found your page etc...... cause I'm a nosey fucker....

Someone stumbled across my blog by searching Yahoo for "cervix close ups".

There I am, snuggled right in between "hardcore pussy close up resource is all you need...." and "girls fucking jpeg pics galleries Pictures and girls fucking ...."

I thought it was starting to feel a little warm in here.....

The all clear

2005-06-24T09:39:00.000+10:00

We got the biopsy results back........ There's no infections, no nasties..... the ute is all clear........ except for that pesky bicornuate thing.
The more I read up about it, the more scared I get about trying again.
We're looking at starting to try again in October/November, which should give me plenty of time to get my head straight..... hopefully.

I'm a page 5 girl!!

2005-06-22T11:37:00.000+10:00

So I didn't quite make it to page 3, but 5 is pretty damn close. And I'm not wearing a bikini (thank GOD I hear you screaming)....
Ok, ok...... it's a crowd shot from the footy at the weekend....and there I am, plain as day, sitting there.....in the pissing down rain.... looking like shit warmed up AND wearing a body condom. I look like a marshmallow with a face..... it's not pretty..... not pretty at all.
Am I going to post the pic? Fuck no..... you couldn't pay me enough.....though if someone was willing to throw $20-$30 my way I'd consider it..... what can I say.... I'm easy.... lol

And now for the "OMG, you'd think she'd get over it already" post.....
Yesterday when I rocked up for work, I was confronted by a big arsed invitation taped to the service desk inviting everyone to "Rachael & Braydon's baby shower" (I'm not going to change their names cause quite frankly I don't give a shit....and Braydon is the baby....not the boyfriend). I guess I'm just being petty but it hurts like hell having to look at her enormous belly every day knowing that I should be having my little boy in August too. Not that I'd ever look like her though, the girl is 5'11 and is as skinny as a rake, she honestly looks like she has a beach ball shoved up the front of her jumper...... I'd probably just look like a fat chick who's gone back for way too many second helpings or * looking guilty* that has just demolished half a block of chocolate for breakfast....oh the shame.

In small little letters down the bottom it had "in lieu of a gift, please give a donation to help them purchase some of the bigger items baby needs"
WTF??? It may be because I'm bitter (and extremely jealous) but if she thinks that I'm going to give her money so her boyfriend can shove it in a cone and smoke it, she had got to be kidding. He can peel his arse off the couch and stop claiming the dole, and get himself a fucking job to pay for his own "bigger items". Phhhtttt to them I say.

Am I completely losing the plot or is this just some weird part of the grieving process that no one has told me about, but lately I receive great satisfaction from making people feel uncomfortable by mentioning my miscarriages. So yesterday, when confronted with the "invitation", I asked politely if I could have an "I almost had a baby" shower......out of the 4 people who were there, one looked away, one busied themselves with something of "great importance" and one walked away.... the other, Pauline, reached over the counter, took my hand and said with tears in her eyes....."your time will come my dear.... your time will come" which left me a blubbering mess.... I'm so thankful for her friendship, kindness and compassion through the last year and a bit (she has been truly wonderful).....but damn it, I hate crying at work......

Finally.....I'm back

2005-06-21T10:03:00.000+10:00

Firstly, thank you to everyone who posted comments and sent emails my way while I was "away".... you have no idea how wonderful your support was during my down time.

*sigh* so where do I begin? It feels like a lifetime since I've actually posted anything and so much has happened.

The New House

It's amazing. We love it. The kitchen is enormous, there's more than enough room to swing a cat (if we had one), there's even enough room for The Chad to have his own games room that we lovingly refer to as "the lodge".

Having H living downstairs hasn't been too bad so far. She's been keeping to herself and keeping Caleb confined to downstairs most of the time. He has been playing up a bit, but I think that is mainly because he is bored. H never takes him anywhere (except to the shops to buy smokes). I know it's not my responsibility to entertain him, but I've been making a bit of an effort to take him places, to the park, to watch the footy, to play with my friend J's kids. I just don't want the poor kid to go without just because H couldn't be bothered.....and because I'm THE best Aunty ever.....lol

The Old House

We're soooo glad to be out of there. The real estate were total jerks when we left. They said that the place wasn't clean enough, even though we spent a full weekend cleaning the dump. When we originally moved in, the place had been empty for 3 months, the yard was a disgrace and the interior wasn't much chop either. We ended up having to go back and clean up a few petty things (one light switch wasn't clean, there was a mark on the kitchen cupboard etc) so hopefully we'll get all our bond back. I'm just glad we're out of there. The place just held so many bad memories for us.....

The Trip to the Hospital

It went pretty well as far as D & C's go, I guess. The doctor who performed the op wasn't Dr Cook, like I'd hoped, but she was very nice all the same. For the life of me I can't remember her name, something starting with a "K" I think. She came and saw me before I was discharged and informed me that I have a slight bicornuate uterus which I now lovingly refer to as "My Hear Shaped Box". Apparently it shouldn't cause too many problems because it isn't a severe case, but like Dr Cook said, it would be best to keep a close eye on me next time. She also told me that my I won't have to pay for my weekly ultrasounds which I am VERY happy about. We were getting a little stressed about the thought of being on one wage (if it came to that) and having to fork out $140 a week for scans.

My follow up appointment is in September! (that's the public system for you) but can call tomorrow for the results for the biopsy which I'm hoping are all clear.

What I did find weird thought was that, although I had my D & C on the Thursday and had minimal bleeding afterwards, my periods started on the Sunday as though I didn't have the op at all. Here's hoping that my cycle doesn't spack out and will return to normal.

And as for the "should I shave or just trim" question I posted earlier, I had to shave myself completely! Is that part of the public system? Do they shave it for you if you go private??? Why they needed the top bit bald is beyond me seeing as all the *cough* work was being done on the lower part. It also reminded me why I don't shave the top part anymore...... talk about ITCHY! I thought I was going to do myself an injury with the amount of scratching I did.

The itching was bad, but nothing compares to the pain and suffering I'm going through now though. The Dr recommended no sex for 6 weeks, 4 weeks minimum, but preferably 6 weeks. 6 WEEKS..... 6 FUCKING WEEKS!!!!!! Even after we lost the boys and had D & C's, we were told to wait 2 weeks......so what's with this 6 weeks business???? I'm sure they're just doing it to fuck with our heads. We can do other things......if you know what I mean......just no penetration. Don't get me wrong.... I'm not one to object to a good *cough* tongue lashing (sorry.... probably WAY too much information there) and The Chad is exceptional at it ( I love you honey *grin * ) but nothing compares to ..... well I'm sure you get my drift. 2 weeks 5 days down, 3 weeks 2 days to go...... That's if I don't kill myself first.....*sigh*

M.I.A

2005-06-05T10:41:00.000+10:00

Been VERY busy moving house so haven't had time to blog. Bad me. Our new home is just awesome. We love it.
Cleaning up the old place isn't as much fun, but after today it should be the last of it.
No internet connection yet either.... or phone either for that matter. Damn Optus...ggrrr to them.

Better get going, we've got walls to scrub....oh the joy

It's my lucky day.....apparently

2005-05-23T01:33:00.000+10:00

I think I've mentioned that we've been looking for a new place.....and also that my sister and my nephew are moving in with us.

This is why finding a place for all of us to live has been so difficult. Now don't get me wrong.... I love my sister..... but somedays I would just love to stick her in the eye with a fork.

A little about my sister.....well it could well end up being alot......you know me...once you get me started......

My sister H is 4 years younger than I am. When it comes to personalities, we're like chalk and cheese. She's not very social, has a hard time making friends and doesn't have alot of self confidence.

She was just 11 (almost 12) when our mother got caught having an affair and our father kicked her out. It didn't take her long to figure out that she could manipulate both of our parents so she could get exactly what she wanted. Whenever things started getting tough living with Dad, she'd call Mum and would be living with her by that weekend. 6 months later, shit would go down with Mum and her new hubby and she'd be back living with us again. This was an endless cycle.

I was never invited to live at our mothers, not that I wanted to, her husband was an absolute dick, either way, the offer was never made.

Both of my parents were very lenient with her. If I came home from school with a B, I'd be read the riot act of how I should apply myself and that I could do better..... H would come home with D's and E's and it was the "you did your best" routine. They pandered to her every whim, trying to soften the emotional trauma of having her parents divorce at such a young age. Me being 15 at the time, they didn't think it effected me as emotionally as it did H. Where H manipulated, I rebelled. I sought attention by doing the wrong things, H sort it by playing the victim card.....again....and again.....

My Dad and I were such similar personalities, head strong and stubborn, that at 17, I couldn't handle being treated like a "child" anymore and moved out of home. At 19, we'd been evicted from our house, I swallowed my pride and asked my Dad if I could move in with him. He was between houses and was renting at the time. He said I could, providing I went halves in everything. Half the rent, half the food etc. I was pretty pissed that he wanted to treat me as a tenant and not as a daughter and give me a break on the whole rent thing. I managed to find a place, so I didn't move in. 2 weeks later, H finishes year 10 at school and moves in with Dad. She doesn't want to go on to years 11 & 12, Dad gives her the holidays (6 weeks) to find a job. Mum lines a job up for her at a take away, Dad charges her $50 a week board....ggrrrrr

3 years later, at 18, she's saved up heaps of money ( you would when you pay $50 a week board and don't go out like a normal teenager) she finally moves out. She spent about 18 months living out on her own before she's broke and back at Dad's ...... "only for a couple of months till I can get back on my feet again".

"A few months" dragged on to 4 years. During this time, I'd been living with TBO, paying my own way, never once asking for a hand out though having it constantly thrown in my face that I should "be more like your sister instead of throwing your money away". If I was only paying $50 a week for board I'm sure as shit I would have been a fucking millionaire. But no, stupid independent me liked paying more than 3 times that every week on rent and buying my own food.

At 24, she gets a job down in Sydney and leaves behind a phone bill to the tune of $1000, makes no effort to contact Dad, can't hold down a steady job and is constantly ringing Mum for money.

At 25, she comes home for Christmas, she has no job, no money and 8 weeks pregnant to some "casual" guy. I had been trying to get pregnant for 4 years by this stage, so it goes without saying that I was more than a little pissed off that she wanted to bring this little baby into the world when she had nothing ......the girl didn't even own a knife and fork.

She stays with Dad, she's due in June, Dad insists that she's found her own place by March as he doesn't want her bring "the sprog" home to his two bedroom apartment. March quickly approaches, she has been sitting at home on the dole, hasn't saved any money. H and Dad have a big fight, H packs up a few of her clothes and leaves a note saying she's going to stay with Mum "for a couple of days". In June, while living with Mum, she gives birth to "the first grand child" and ceremoniously rubs it in her childless sister's face at every opportunity.

"A couple of days" stretched out to 3 years, she didn't have to pay rent, just buy food, prepare meals and clean the house...... so that brings us to around March this year. She has a fight with Mum's bf and is given 2 weeks to get out. The next day, without leaving a note, without a goodbye, she sneaks out without a backwards glance and moves in with her friend S and her 10 yr old son where she's been staying, paying $100 a week, since.

H has been receiving a Single Parents Pension since the "first grand child" arrived which equates to about $400 a week. Last year, little Johnny Howard thought it would be a good incentive to offer a "baby bonus" of $3000 for all babies born after July 2004 to encourage Australians to procreate as the national birthrate had dropped significantly. Not to leave those that already kids out, he granted them 2 installments of $600.

Where's she going with all this, you might ask.....

Well yesterday we got approval on a house that we applied for. We need to come up with 4 weeks rent for the bond and then 2 weeks rent in advance.... that's a grand total of $1980. H will be living in the self contained area downstairs and The Chad and I will be living upstairs and we will be splitting the rent 50/50. I asked her how much she had to chip in .....her response...... $100. WTF!!!!!!!!

I rant, I rave, I yell some more, she says she'll ask Dad for a loan....the same "Dad" that she left with a $1000 phone bill and has not once offered even the smallest amount to repay him. He said he would, but to try and hit Mum up first. H asks Mum for $400, Mum (who is in Sydney on "business" atm) tells H that there is a signed blank cheque on the kitchen counter. WTF!!!!!!!!

Even though $400 would contribute to the bond, it's not HALF. So I rant, I rave, I yell some more.....

Some hours later on the way to the football my phone rings....

Me: Hello
H: It's your lucky day
Me: Huh?
H: It's your lucky day
Me: why is it my lucky day?
H: Mum said she'll pay the full amount
Me: (thinking the full $1980) WHAT????
H: Mum said she'd give me the full $660
Me: (with the greatest amount of sarcasm) Oh that's great.....so we'll only be out of pocket $1320.....great
H: but you'll get the bond back on the place your in
Me: ohhhh......so we'll only be $400 out of pocket then.....jolly good.
H: Ian doesn't know though, though he should complain, he loans his kids money all the time.......but at least I'LL pay it back
Me: insert hysterical laughter
H: what.....what are you laughing about?

So there you have it..... while we have to dip into our savings, Miss Thing is getting a free ride once again....... but apparently it's MY lucky day......

Happy Birthday....

2005-05-20T11:49:00.000+10:00

Happy Birthday A.J.

It’s been 12 months since you grew wings ......... not a day goes by that we don’t think about you...... not a minute goes by that we don’t miss you........
We love you little one......

Forever
Your Mum & Dad
xxx

Fear and loathing in Brisvegas

2005-05-19T11:34:00.000+10:00

I've noticed the last week or two that I've been shying away from "personal" entries and keeping things pretty light (I blogged about my zit, though a zit on the nose is a VERY traumatic experience).

In all honesty, the closer I get to the date of my hysteroscopy, the more freaked out I get. What if they find something wrong? What if I can never have children? Scarier still.....what if they tell me there IS nothing wrong? What if they give me the green light to go forth and procreate?

TTC again opens up the same old can of worms..... knowing we're not "doing it" just for fun, the agonizing 2 week wait, the HPT's that I become obsessed with taking, the disappointment when AF arrives.

Then there's the fear I feel when I think about actually being pregnant again. Most women get more and more excited as the 12 week stage approaches. Both of our miscarriages happened after that "safe" period, after everything was suppose to be OK.

Dr C said they would keep a very close eye on me next time with scans every week, but what if it's not enough? How do I remain sane in those 7 days between scans? I know I'm jumping the gun a bit.... I'm not even pregnant yet, but I can't help thinking about.....obsessing about it.......

The "what if's" are going to do my head in already.

12 months ago tomorrow, we lost our first baby. Our little A.J. It feels like only yesterday..... the memories are so vivid. The blood.....the hospital..... the unbearable pain... the needles.......feeling his tiny body leave me........how empty I felt..... how my heart felt as though it had been ripped out...... his tiny body ..... his long legs that we just like his Daddy's.......

I miss my little boys......

To old for this shit Pt 2

2005-05-17T14:02:00.000+10:00

I've got a fucking pimple..... not just any kind of pimple.... it's big and red....and it's on my FUCKING NOSE!!

I could give Leigh Matthews a run for his money in the red nose department.

It's gross.... it's hideous ..... it's beyond angry... it's furious! Foundation isn't covering it..... concealer isn't either..... it's positively glowing.... and I'm NOT HAPPY JAN!!!!

I'm fucking 32 years old and I'm STILL getting pimples AARRGGGG!
This is not right....it's just not fair..... pimples AND wrinkles..... the injustice of it all..... *sigh*

They're Back!

2005-05-15T22:25:00.000+10:00

The steps.......bigger and better than ever before.....well maybe not bigger, but definitely better.

The builders did an awesome job on them..... but it still doesn't make me want to stay here.

AND they left a bunch of crap here that we now have to get rid of. Grrrrrrr.

Glossy pages

2005-05-14T20:32:00.000+10:00

Pregnant women are out to get me... via cheesy glossy magazine covers.

It started with the
"Dear Fans,
The time has finally come to share our wonderful new that we are expecting our first child together." Britney Spears .

Then Bec Cartwright and Lleyton Hewitt hit the magazine racks with news they are expecting. Now who didn't see THAT coming?? "Dating" for 6 weeks, he pops the question, now she's 3 months pregnant? All that is missing from this pretty picture is Daddy with a shotgun.

Now it's Ben and Jen (not that Jen, this Jen).

And lets not forget Princess Mary's "miracle" pregnancy. Miracle?? Did she suffer through several miscarriages or be put through a barrage of invasive tests and operations? Nooooo.... it's a *cough* "miracle" she's pregnant because she had an operation on her GALLBLADDER last year. Yes, all pregnancies are a miracle, the whole creation of life and all, but come on lady...... last time I checked your gallbladder wasn't remotely connected to your reproductive system.

I hate to admit it, but I find myself wishing these women to lose their babies. I know it's horrible.... I feel guilty feeling this way, but it's the truth. (Not so much Jen and Mary, they are older and Jen just seems so damn nice, but definitely the young sprightly Brit and Bec.) Strangely, I don't feel this way about women I see out in public, only the celebs who stare at me from those nasty magazines, those ones that lead a charmed life, the young, beautiful, successful ones.

I knew that there are celebrities that must have suffered loss, so I hit google and was quite surprised at the amount of famous women who had miscarried.
I found babyfruit's blog and her entry about celebrity miscarriages.
Tori Amos, Amy Brenneman (from Judging Amy), Pam Anderson, Christy Brinkley, Brooke Shields, just to name a few, have all gone through this devastating loss, but you don't see magazines throwing big dollars their way to tell their stories in all their glossy, double page spreads.

Unfortunately, this is an elite club, and no matter how hard people try to understand what it's like to lose a child through miscarriage, they only just scrape the surface of how deep the pain really runs.

*******************

I was going to steal Wil Wheaton's idea (he's the kid that was in Stand by Me with River Pheonix) and use the title of whatever song was playing on iTunes as the title of each post, but as I finished writing this entry, iTunes was playing "My boomerang won't come back" by Rolf Harris, so I scrapped that idea...

Why the fuck do I have a copy of THAT on my hard drive?

Door way to....

2005-05-13T00:41:00.000+10:00

N-O-T-H-I-N-G-N-E-S-S

The builders didn't come back today because of the rain......bloody sissy's....big burly boys scared of using a few power tools in the rain...pphhttt to them.
So until the rain stops, we have no back steps.

Things you don't want to hear....

2005-05-11T14:40:00.000+10:00

From the builders that are here repairing our house...

"Hey Mick" snigger "you've gotta come and look at this"
"Fuck me, that's fucked" *chahortle*
"And look at this" more sniggering
"Isn't that suppose to be a weight baring support beam?"
"Yep" snigger
"Who ever built this deck has no fucking clue"
"I wouldn't let my mother in law live in this place mate, it's a fucking death trap"

Um, HELLO boys.... I CAN HEAR YOU!!
Talk about being made to feel safe and secure in your own hovel.....

It's all about the numbers......

2005-05-11T11:11:00.000+10:00

We've been trying to have a baby since June 2003. It doesn't seem that long ago that we started trying, but in reality it has.... almost 2 years now.... where has the time gone?

It's been 716 days since we started trying

We've spent
128 days bleeding
126 days wondering if we timed it right
196 days pregnant
and 185 days of waiting to try again

I've had
9 - HPT's
2 + HPT's
4 trips to the emergency room
386 faceless people poke at my cooter
2 D & C's
Been poked by at least 134 needles
Been to 2 Memorial Services
Held 1 tiny angle (they wouldn't let me hold A.J)
And shed 198 574 398 772 tears

I have to wait another 22 days until my hospital appointment, and will fall over dead if they give me the results that day.... so more time waiting..... BLAH!
I really should be doing something a little more constructive with myself....
................
On a brighter note.... they've come to fix my "oh so unsafe" back steps today.... not that it'll make us want to stay here, because we won't..... the house is just a shit heap....end of story....... but at least the steps will be safe...

My forever....

2005-05-09T01:29:00.000+10:00

Mother's Day

2005-05-08T19:41:00.000+10:00

I've been reading More Voices in My Ear by Doris Stokes, the famous medium.
Today I neared the end of the book where after asking the spirit world what the afterlife is really like, she is guided by her son who died at 6 months of age, who appears to her as a fully grown man. Here is an exert....

" We floated out of the hospital and along a little path fringed by flowers and trees. Birds swooped low over our heads and I saw a deer dart away to our right.
A few minutes later we came to a low, round building and the most exquisite woman came out to meet us. She was dressed in white, and seemed to shine, and the love that emanated from her was almost tangible. Perhaps this is where ones come to be judged, I thought, a little frightened even though I knew there was no reason to be. But they took me inside and my eyes grew in amazement. All around the walls were rows of glowing, transparent shells through which little creatures could be seen.
'But they're babies, aren't they?' I gasped. They looked just like human foetus is varying stages of growth.
'Yes, my child, they are babies,' the woman told me.
'These are the babies who didn't fulfill their full term and were sent back before they were born.'
'What happens to them?' I asked, peeping into the little silvery shells.
'They are born into the spirit world and given to spirit mothers who take care of them' she explained.
Fascinated, I wandered round looking into each little window. Perhaps when I came over I might be given one? I felt something touch my arm.
'Come and see the nurseries, Mother,' said John Michael.
The nurseries were just behind the waiting place and they were full of laughing children. They raced, they tumbled and played boisterous games and it was hard to remember that they'd died tragically, on earth, and feel sad for them because they look so happy. /There were quite a few adults there, as well, and I was told these were either spirit mothers who brought the children up as their own, or they were relatives.
One elderly lady approached. 'Come and see my great grandson,' she said proudly and took me to a corner where an angelic little boy was sitting on the floor playing with building bricks. When he saw me he beamed and held out his chubby little arms and I couldn't resist picking him up. I don't know what I had expected, but within seconds I was cuddling warm, solid, human flesh. there was nothing wraith-like about him.
"He came over tragically at fourteen months old', his great-grandmother explained. 'Fortunately I was already here so I take care of him. His name is Christopher James.'

I know some people may find the whole afterlife thing a bit hard to believe, but it gives me a bit of piece knowing that my boys are being taken care of and that they continue to grow. A.J would be a chubby 6 month old little boy who would be learning how to roll over, cutting his first teeth, and dribbling and cooing while being bounced on his great grandparents knees. And our little Jesse would be in his silvery shell, still growing and growing..........

Being left behind.....

2005-05-07T11:03:00.000+10:00

The Chad came home last night with the news that a friend of his had gotten approval for a home loan and was going to buy a house.

This "friend" aka The Crow (the wanker gave himself this nickname and proudly introduces himself to stranger as thus.....if you are thinking "headcase" then you would be right), is one of those people who, no matter how much shit is thrown their way, it never sticks.....mainly because his parents are forever there wiping it off their golden child.

Many years ago, while being left to look after his baby, who would have been no more than 8-9 months old, this little one "mysteriously" breaks his leg and a couple of ribs. The Crow stands before the judge, denies any wrong doing, sheds a few tears, is given community service, a pissy fine and no conviction recorded. Our justice system at it's finest......

He then goes on to have another 2 healthy children with the same woman. How she could have stayed with him I will never now, let alone have another 2 kids to him.

Just last year, girlfriend ups and leaves...... and leaves all three kids with him!

The Crow gets caught stealing at work, but where others had been fired for less, he was given a warning.

While he is out going to raves, doing "E's" and whooping it up, his parents are looking after the little ones.

When he blows all his money on tattoos, drugs and stupid crap for his hotted up corolla, his parents pay his rego, the electricity bills and fill his cupboards with food.

The owner of the house that he rents offers him a once in a life time opportunity, to buy the house for a price WAY less than the market value. You'd think that after all the crap, karma would finally catch up with him....but nooooooo.... his parents put their house up at collateral and he gets the loan...... he gets the house.

My Dad raised me to be independent. I didn't see it when i was growing up, but am extremely grateful for it now. When I wanted something, he told me to save up for it. When I wanted to go somewhere, he refused to be my taxi service, I'd have to find my own way. This even meant at 15, walking home at midnight from the train station, down a dirt track and through the bush. (Remember, this was nearly 20 years ago.....way back when it was "safe" for a girl to do this.) I had a job at 14, I paid for my own clothes, make up and girlie magazines.

At 15, he insisted that, if I wanted to go out and drink while under the legal age, that I had to have $150 in a "get out of jail" account because he wasn't going to pay the fine. He never approved of me drinking, but said that if I chose to do it, and got caught, then I'd have to deal with the consequences.

While I bucked and screamed and threw many temper tantrums because of his refusal to pander to my every whim, I find myself where I am today, an independent, self reliant woman who knows that my actions are my own and with the tools to get myself out of the shit when needed.

So when it comes to The Crow and many more like him, who is more to blame ? The child who refuses to grow up and take responsibility, or the parents who continue to "baby" their 30 something year old son?

Why when I know we should feel proud because we are responsible adults and pay our own bills, buy our own food and go without when we don't have the money, that it still leaves us feeling jealous when we see people moving ahead, even though it's not under their own steam?

And why when we try to live right and be good people that bad shit keeps happening to us, we can never seem to get ahead.

Marathon Post

2005-05-03T15:20:00.000+10:00

BLAH! Where do I start? The rate things are buzzing around my head, this is looking to be a marathon entry.
I've never felt so overwhelmed by emotions as I did on Friday. I bit the bullet and finally went around to my friend J's place. No sooner had I gotten out of the car, I could hear the kids screaming "Channy's here.... Channy's here!!", and the thunderous sound of footsteps running through the house. The screen door slammed open and her 4 kids came screaming out, arms wide open and amassed me in the most amazing hug. They had me in tears even before I'd walked through the door. I hadn't realized that I had missed them so much.... or fathomed a thought that they could have missed me.

As for J.... well she looked like shit....but only because of her dyke like hair cut. I'm just going to put it down to pregnancy hormones......lol. (Sorry J..... you know I love you....lol)

Saturday was VERY eventful. I was awoken by the shrill of the telephone at 10:45 (yes I've become a slack bitch and have taken to sleeping in BIG TIME. I guess going to bed at 4:30am had a little something to do with it) And who do you think was on the phone...... my *cough* friend that I mentioned here. She was in Brisvegas and apparently didn't receive my nasty NASTY email (I was having a bad day). She wanted to see me. I let lose with a tirade of abuse letting her know how much her lack of contact had hurt me, how the phone call from her with her children screaming "mummy mymmy mummy" down the phone tore my heart out. Not unusual for her, she turned it all around and made it about herself (she suffers badly from PND) and how she'd been having such a hard time of it. Blah blah blah.....lengthy conversation.....many tears..... we cleared the air and she came over for a visit. It was nice to see her and we, in some way, reconnected. In a way that friends that have known each other more than half their lives do...... I wish I could say nice things like "I wish I could be there for her to help her through this" but, I know I don't have the strength to allow her to lean on me AND keep my own head above water. I'm being selfish aren't I? I knew it.

Saturday night saw the return of the GREAT Jonathan Brown with a massive 8 goals and a win to drag our sorry arses off the bottom of the ladder.

So all in all Saturday wasn't too bad.

Monday I received an update from LostSchoolFriends where to my surprise, I found an old friend had joined up. My Dad use to call her "144". Just like 13 is a bakers dozen, 144 is a gross..... doesn't my Dad have the most twisted sense of humor??? So not to confuse her with the "other" J, we'll call her 144.

We'd been friends since year 8 when we were 12 and had a major falling out about 7 years ago. I can't remember the details exactly, just that she screamed down the phone at me that my expectations of her were too high and that she just couldn't live under my judgemental gaze anymore. This coming from a girl who always insisted that everything was bigger,better,faster, longer. If I met a cute guy, her's was hotter.... if I slept with someone who had a big one.... the one she slept with was not only bigger, but it lasted longer and she, without a doubt had at least 3 more orgasams than I did.

Anybody that knows me, knows that I'm not judgemental. If you're fat, thin, short, tall, rich, poor.... I don't care..... as long as you're a good person, that's all that matters.

Anywho.... I heard from her about 5 years ago, she'd just given birth to her second child, a daughter, and wanted me to meet her. I know it was her way of trying to burry the hatchet, but until I heard "I'm sorry" tumble out of her mouth, I wasn't going entertain the idea of letting bygones be bygones. I'm still waiting......

So I looked at 144's entry, and found that she's now married (which doesn't bother me cause The Chad is all that and a packet of chips) and not only did she have the 13 yr old and the 6 yr old that I knew about, she also had an 8 mth old and was pregnant with her 4th.......due in August.

So here I sit, at 32 and a bit, baron, and I have to admit that I'm green with envy. Where has my life gone? I know I wasted almost 10 years with The Bitter One......but still......grrrrrrrr. I've held on to the same crappy job for the last 9 years in the hope that I'd get pregnant and they at least offer maternity leave (unpaid of course) and are very flexible in regards to returning to work/family commitments.

So I guess she wins .... her's is bigger, better, faster, longer......

But she is she and I am me.....and what it all boils down to is.........regardless of how many kids she has......
I'm still WAY prettier than her.......

One step closer....

2005-04-28T13:08:00.000+10:00

We got the letter from the hospital today regarding my appointment for my hysteroscopy. My op is scheduled for the 2nd of June, which seems like a million miles away, but technically is only 5 or so weeks away. I'm pretty unfazed about it at the moment....but I'm sure as the date gets closer I'll manage to get myself worked up into a suitable frenzy of "what if's" .
The big question is......

Should I shave or just trim??

Too old for this shit....

2005-04-26T12:18:00.000+10:00

Hangovers are not good for the soul.... they are also not good for the head or the stomach. Here I sit, 2 days, yes 2 fucking days, after drinking myself into oblivion still feeling like crap. It's not just the morning after the night before....but the day after the morning after the night before. I never use to get hangovers when I was younger..... well not never....but hardly ever. Now that I've crossed into the over 30's group, my tolerance for alcohol is apparently almost zero. It's official.... I'm too old for this shit.

I must admit that I had an absolutely awesome day though. My friend "A" is heading off to England soon (why is it that all my friends seem to be moving OS? Do I smell???) so some quality time together before she jets off was a chance for us to catch up on some much needed girlie talk, was also a way to help me get myself out of this funk that I'm in....... and sitting in the sun staring at 44 hot sweaty men in short shorts, while sipping on ice cold beers on a Sunday afternoon, was just the medicine I needed.

A surprise visit from my friend "Cleavage" also helped no end. Cleavage , in typical bloke fashion, doesn't usually show high amounts of sympathy for people. I don't think it's because he doesn't care, he, like so many people just don't know what to say. So instead of being stand-off-ish, or doing that whole tilted head pity thing,(which I fucking HATE), to him, I was just me. The same chick he'd met 5 years ago, the pre infertility, pre miscarriages chick. I found myself being more "me" than I had in months. A chance to hang out with people who had no idea of how traumatic the last 12 months of my life had been. I was just "Chan"........ and I shone......

Though all that "shining" has left me feeling like a crap sandwich.........still.....

As I said before...
I'm too old for this shit.....

Lest We Forget

2005-04-25T00:56:00.000+10:00

Anzac Day

They shall grow not old,
As we that are left grow old.
Age shall not weary them,
Nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun,
And in the morning,
We will remember them.

Thank you.... for your bravery.... for your sacrifice.

One ticket to self pity central please....

2005-04-21T13:47:00.000+10:00

After much consideration, alot of pondering and way too much Bicardi on Saturday night , I've come to the conclusion that I may have a slight case of depression.

Yes... happy go lucky smiley me.

When I am at home, I feel safe to be myself (I don't feel safe walking down the back steps, but we won't go there again). When I'm with The Chad, everything is ok. He knows my pain, we share the same ache in our hearts. When ever I face the big bad world though, well that's another story.

When I see friends (which is rarely), I get teary and emotional. At work I find it hard communicating with customers. I just don't have the energy or the inclination to care about how their day is or to waffle on about meaningless shit to make their "visit" memorable. I find I'm withdrawing further and further into myself.....

I had hoped that I would get closure after our hospital follow up.... but instead of being given the green light to go ahead and try again, I've been put on hold until I can get my uterus checked out.
I had hoped that we'd be able to find a new house and start saving some $$ ... thanks to Pimp Daddy, we're still looking.

The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem....

Ladies and gentlemen.......my name is Chantal and I am depressed.

Then today, I received an email from L (mentioned in the first part), a quote she hoped would inspire.....

"Don't wait for a light to appear at the end of the tunnel - stride down there....and light the bloody thing yourself!"
-Sara Henderson

Inspire me it has..... I'm going to pull myself up by my bootstraps, pull my head out of my arse and start living again. I'm not going to spare my friends my grief anymore. I'm sure that who ever it was that came up with the wise quote of "better out than in" wasn't just referring to farts and burps. If I become emotional and cry like a girlie girl when I speak to them, they can deal with it. If they don't like it, they can fuck off. I need to cry.... I need to grieve..... I need to do this so I can move on.....

So this is to officially serve as a warning..... I'm making a come back..... I'm going to stride down the tunnel, blazing torch in hand.....

Thank you L..... for your friendship.....for being the amazing "you" that you are.....

Smoke rings....

2005-04-19T02:05:00.000+10:00

Since losing Jesse, I've been trying to make two major life changes.... quit smoking, and lose weight.
I'm finding it dreadfully hard to do either.
I've been smoking since I was 12 years old......I've never been a pack a day smoker, mostly a 10-15 a day kinda girl, which I know still isn't good....but I'm not a chain smoker.

I've tried everything from patches, acupuncture, hypnotherapy and zyban. I've even tried a few times to go cold turkey.........I'm not a very nice person while going through withdrawal believe me! Think Michael Douglas in Falling Down and multiply it by 10.

My latest attempt to give up has failed miserably. While I managed to cut down considerably, I found myself stuffing my face with food to help deal with the withdrawal. And when you're trying to lose weight, that's not such a good thing.

So this morning I jumped on the scales and I nearly shit myself! I've put on 2 fucking kilos!!! This is just not on.

So I've made a decision, instead of trying to juggle the two, I'm going to tackle one thing at a time..... First the excessive amount of poundage that has amassed itself on my arse. Then as we get closer to wanting to start for another baby, I'll tackle the smoking thing.

While my addiction is pretty ordinary and run of the mill, The Chad's addiction is TOTALLY bizarre.....

Yep.... ear buds.... 2 a day, every day without fail. He's just gotta clean his ears ev-er-y day.

Is this the weirdest addiction in the known universe or what???

Not incompetent?

2005-04-14T22:45:00.000+10:00

Cont......
So anywho.... I'm still totally gutted about not getting the house.... That house suppose to be the new beginning for our baby quest. It was the first step in a million that we were going to make.... first the house....then save the money......find the doctor......and try again...... NOT NOW, THANK YOU VERY MUCH PIMP DADDY!@!

About our hospital visit.......
I was all prepared for the doctor to say "Yes Ms, it appears you have an incompetent cervix....this is what we will do to fix it and you'll have yourself a baby lick-a-dee-split"
My GP had said that from the description I gave him on the way things happened, it was a case of IC. All the research I'd done on the internet pointed to an IC.
My new doctor, Dr Cook, doesn't think it's an IC. He actually thinks it's "just one of those things".....just one of those things that happened not once...but twice???? I could understand if they were both first trimester loses.....but 2 of them at 13.4 & 14.3 weeks? He's certain that it's something else.....what he doesn't know....but something else none the less.
So for starters, he's ordered a barrage of blood tests, which I'm going back to the hospital to have done tomorrow. He's also booked me in to have a hysteroscopy to see if there's any abnormalities in my uterus. While he's there, he's going to do a
endometrial biopsy to check for infections. Because we are technically poor white trash (private health cover here in Australia is beyond ridiculous) we are going through the public system, which means the hysteroscopy could take place any time in the next 3 months...... if I'm lucky.
If all the tests show that there's nothing "wrong", Dr Cook wants to keep a very close eye on me next time we fall pregnant. I'm to arrange an appointment with the hospital as soon as I find out that I'm pregnant..... have a scan at 8 weeks, then at 10 weeks, then every week after that to check for shortening of my cervix.

The Dr and I also had a little "disagreement" about how far pregnant I actually was. When I went for my scan on the Monday, going by my LMP I was 13.2 weeks, but Jesse was measuring at 14.4 weeks. Dr Cook said that I had obviously gotten my dates wrong because there is no way that a baby at that gestation could measure 9 days ahead. 2-3 days yes, but not 9 days. He said that I'd probably ovulated earlier than what I though. When I said that I was basing my dates on my LMP, he assured me that I was wrong. I knew when I'd had my periods..... they are marked with a big red X on my calendar. You DO NOT second guess a woman who is trying desperately to fall pregnant when her last menstrual cycle was.

Despite our little disagreement, he seems like a nice Dr. He is actually the same Dr that my Mum's friend went and saw when she had her 3. He still has a private practice and does a fortnightly rotation at the public hospital. If all goes well with the hysteroscopy, I might even consider paying money to see him.......

We got a copy of the pathology report which showed no obvious abnormalities.

Our little Jesse was 55.8gms, had a crown/rump length of 83mm, crown/heel length of 115mm, head circumference 100mm, chest circumference of 83mm and his left foot was 12mm long.

He didn't seem so little as I held him in my hand........

Stupid bastards....

2005-04-14T09:44:00.000+10:00

Ok....so we finally hear back from "Pimp Daddy", our gold chain wearing, sports car driving property manager and guess what....... we didn't get it. That's right folks..... no new house for me. Am I pissed? Damn straight! The owner decided to go with the "other applicant". What the fuck was he doing sending the owner 2 applicants??? He should have just sent one and not given them a choice......full stop. I wanted that damn house!

Do you think that the Christmas decoration that is STILL hanging on our front door has anything to do with our spate of bad luck this year? I remember hearing somewhere that if you leave your tree/decorations up after new year it will bring you bad luck........

I 'aint testing fate any longer...... down comes the jingle bells.... TODAY!

We went to the hospital yesterday for our follow up appointment since losing Jesse...... it's long and indepth, so I'll post again later when I have time.....

For now..... it's off to work ......again...... *sigh*

Jinxed?

2005-04-13T21:39:00.000+10:00

After my big woo-hoo about getting approval on the new house yesterday, have I jinxed us? We were suppose to hear from the real estate today about setting up a time to sign the lease......but did they call....noooo....am I getting anxious....yeesssss.

We're outta here!

2005-04-11T22:05:00.000+10:00

We went and had a look at another house on Saturday. Once again, we didn't hold much luck in getting it due to the amount of people that turned up for the open house.
One thing we did have in our favour was that it was through the same agents that we rent "the death trap" from and our property manager is THE nicest person on the planet.
Well not 10 minutes ago, I got a phone call to say that apart from a few minor formalities, our application has been approved!
So we're OUTTA HERE.....
The house is just gorgeous! 4 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms....... it's not highset, but it's big enough to give us our space.
Did I mention that my sister and her 3 year old son are moving in with us?? Not the smartest thing in the world to do, but we really need to do it for financial reasons.
I just hope we survive the next 3 weeks, 5 days here

Visiting the mad hatter.....

2005-04-07T19:56:00.000+10:00

So today I went out to my mum's. She'd told me of this "friend" of hers, lets call her "Dippy", who had apparently had 6 miscarriages, and, with the help of "herbs" she'd gone on to successfully have a child, and that Dippy had suggested that she may be able to help us.

Dippy was diagnosed with PCOS and thought that maybe I also had it....wait for it....because I too had had miscarriages. I don't have irregular cycles, male pattern baldness, hair on my chest or any of the other symptoms that are associated with PCOS.

I was contemplating whether or not to explain the reasoning behind the nickname..... but I thought better of it. She was kind enough to share her experiences with me, so I won't be nasty and give her a bad wrap.

Next....

Our river of shit.....
Another exciting thing to add to our big long list of reasons why we hate this house.....
I woke up yesterday morning to the pungent smell of shit wafting through our bedroom window. Let me tell you, it's not the nicest thing to wake up to.
I don some "outside clothes", cause god knows the neighbors wouldn't want to see me in my nightie, head down the oh so unsafe stairs, to be confronted by a mass of wet clumps of toilet paper and nuggets of shit overflowing from the sewage pipe.
Three phone calls to the real estate and it finally gets fixed.... after lunch.....

Have I mentioned that I hate this house???

I want a new house!

2005-04-06T09:27:00.000+10:00

I hate this house. I hate the way the kitchen sways....yes sways.... when you walk through, I hate that the floor boards creek ominously when you walk ANYWHERE. I hate the the stupid twat of an owner couldn't be bothered to paint the bathroom properly and there's always mold growing on the ceiling. I hate that, in some places, what appears to be, say for example, A SUPPORT BEAM, is actually just a layer of paint over something that use to resemble wood! I hate that water comes in through the lounge room window and has ruined my curtains. I hate that the banister on the rear stairs is so unsafe that it should be replaced. I hate that the afore mentioned twat of an owner thinks that not fixing all these problems is "ok" .....and that if we fall through the deck....pphhtt....whoop-dee-doo. I hate how this house makes me feel. I want a new house.... and I want it NOW!

We didn't get the house we applied for yesterday..... which totally sucks arse.

no. 22

2005-04-05T01:31:00.000+10:00

I should add that we went and had a look at a house tonight.... it wasn't perfect, 1000 times better than this death trap that we're living in at the moment. There were also about a gazillion other people there to look at it...... We're putting in an aplication tomorrow....so cross your fingers that we'll soon be leaving no. 22

Icy stares, bitter ex

2005-04-05T01:20:00.000+10:00

Why is it so hard for some people to let go and move on with their lives?

I'm speaking about my ex who, still, after almost 3 years feels so much malice and hatred towards me it's beyond a joke.

Yes I broke his heart. Yes I lied to him. Yes I cheated on him. But after 3 years is it necessary to throw death stares my way everytime he sees me??

Shouldn't I be the one that should be bitter and angry after he left me close to $4000 worth of debt and outstanding bills, left it up to me to pack up and clean almost 9 years worth of crap out of our house and jumped The Chad in the carpark and left his face a bloody mess?

Isn't it only fair to say that the one time I cheated on him counteracted the 2 times (that I know of) that he cheated on me?

Isn't me breaking his heart equal to his breaking my heart everytime he refused to do anything regarding our fertility problems during the 5 years I so desperately tried to fall pregnant?

Isn't my lying to him exactly the same thing he did to me everytime he told me he loved me, when in fact, if he truly loved me, he would have cared if I was happy?

If it pains him so much to see me, why on earth did he take a job in the same shopping center where he is bound to see me at least every other day?

I really do wish happiness for him...... I hope that one day he could find someone to love that makes him feel complete.

But in the mean time.... I wish the icy death stares, the snarled lips and the muttered obscenities under his breath as he walked past, would stop........

I just wish he'd get the fuck over it!

Urea-who?

2005-04-01T14:59:00.000+10:00

After finding Sarah's latest entry last night, I decided to be proactive and make an appointment to see the doctor. Her doctor had suggested that the cause of alot of "incompetent cervixes" could be because of an infection.
So off I toddle to the doctor this morning with my list of possible infections that I wanted to get tested for...
Ureaplasma
E-coli
Strep B
Firstly he asks me how he wants me to test for these infections..... I mean come on.... you're a freaking doctor.... do you really need to be told that I would like you to take a swab from my VAGINA for these infections???? He then informs me that he doesn't do pap smears because it's too much of a hassle because he needs to have another woman in the room!!

And....apparently, in his 30 years of practicing medicine he's NEVER ordered a test for Ureaplasma!! THEN he tells me that he's never heard of Ureaplasma! I mean puh-lease! Just look here , and here and there's a little website called http://UREAPLASMA.allbio.org ummm hello....... and this man calls himself a doctor???
He did, somehow, manage to give me a referral to a gynecologist though.

We've got a follow up appointment at the hospital on the 13th for them to give us the results and what not, so I think I'll wait and find out what they have to say. But if my cycle goes back to it's regular 28 days, I'm going to get my girlies the day before the appointment, which means that I doubt they'll want to swim the great red sea to get a sample to test for anything....ewwwww

Only 12 days till we find out where we stand in regards to this whole baby making business. So until then..... I'll be waiting patiently here in limbo....

I miss me....

2005-03-28T23:37:00.000+10:00

I use to be so full of laughter, so full of hope. I use to be fun damn it.
Now when I look in the mirror, there's a sadness that lingers in my eyes.
I can't seem to find the me that I use to be. She's lost..... buried so far down that I don't think she'll ever be found.
I feel as though all events in my life are now depicted by the markers of when I lost our sons. "When I was pregnant with A.J this happened" "Do you remember just after we lost Jesse that....." Generally I'm shithouse with dates and times. But now there are these markers in my life that help me keep track...... and I wish it wasn't like that.
I want to be me again..... I want my boys back..... I want those carefree times back..... I want to feel a genuine smile creep across my lips..... I want to see joy in the little things.....
I miss how I was....
I miss who I was.....
I miss me.....