F.E.A.R.

So far, this pregnancy is wasted on me. Nothing but overwhelming worry, panic, and depression. Badly. I could write about how terrified I've been lately ... the blackness has gotten a hold of me and dragged me down. Or, when Mr TC talks about the "baby", I think geez, you're hopeful. How disgusted I am at my own pessimistic and bleak outlook. How irrational my fears have become, overblown like the freakin' Goodyear blimp. I started getting paranoid that something would happen to Tiger, or Mr TC would die, bloody everything.

I've spent the past two days frozen, crying uncontrollably. I'm annoyed at myself - I know it's normal to worry in the first trimester, but fuck this shit so badly. I'm officially over it, and will now do anything I can to get myself out of this hole. I heard that song the other day, with the lyrics:

"But the only soldier now is me, I'm fighting things I cannot see. I think it's called my destiny that I am changing ..."

I have SO been fighting things I cannot see. My biggest, worst enemy on this earth is my own head. I may have got the monkey off my back, but the circus is still in town, people!! I subscribe to an online Alcoholics Anonymous newsletter, and this week it said "Worrying is praying for things that you don't want to happen."

That's it. I'm done. I'm going to a meeting tonight, and will be sharing honestly about where I have been at lately. I have organised to have dinner with my two sisters Tee and Rex down in Sydney this Friday. I will be the designated driver, we shall eat dinner and play pool and behave badly. I can't wait. I'm going to start exercising again - I stopped after embryo transfer, too scared something would happen. But I can do it gently - even if it's just swimming. I will pitch articles, to all the editors in all the land, and they shall know my name is Topcat and that I am not afraid!!! I'm so sick of being afraid. It's like a trick - there's nothing to fear but fear itself. I have been feeling fear by the truckload up here. In hab, I learnt that fear was False Events Appearing Real. Or Fuck Everything And Run. The opposite to fear is faith.

I prayed some big prayers yesterday - to God and to my nan. I don't know who or what God is - I was brought up Catholic, so I still call him God. (And him, apparently!) .... After many years of everything, God and I have come to a certain understanding. Sometimes, I have given him the finger and told him he's a prick. But, usually, we get on pretty well. I will know all the answers when I die - until then, I just trust that there is a force up there that looks after all of us, if only we let it.

Last night, I dreamt I was at my nans house. I had made such, such a mess. Donuts, Camembert cheese - it was dreadful. But I was cleaning it up, slowly. And feeling so much better. I woke up so renewed - I love how sleep can help. I used to have the most dark, violent, despicable dreams. Towards the end of my using, I dreamt I was a rotting carcass tied to the bottom of a car, getting dragged along the road. Nice. My favourite dreams are when I'm flying - I'm so free.

Whew!

So, in conclusion, henceforth, I am conducting a Shock and Awe campaign on my fear. I will start to enjoy this pregnancy, dammit. Just a little bit would be nice.

Knock Knock. Who's there? Topcat. Topcat who?

******** crickets **********

What the hell are all these overgrown weeds doing on my blog? Is that a moth I see, flying out from the 'post' button? (Straight from Geohde's undies). Where the hell have I been? I thought once I got pregnant the heavens would open up to the sound of Angel choirs and trumpets; a life of pure bliss and joy would await; that I would magically walk around in a zen-like state, having achieved all of my goals; revelling in unadulturated contentment, forevermore. No? What do you mean no??

It's hard to do stuff. This year, my job was to get pregnant. Everything else, everything, has fallen by the wayside. I'm even finding it hard to chase up invoice payments to me - hardly earning any money at the moment as it is!! Lethargy? Depression? Fuck knows. The twin powers of fear and hope have made their home in my heart, and are, as Marcello Wallace from Pulp Fiction would say, "Fuckin' witchu". I'm void, numb, and so absolutely frozen it's not funny. I'm actually not complaining - just telling it as it is. Trying to adopt a Buddhist "not good not bad just is" mindset.

It's my birthday today. Not my belly button birthday, but my clean and sober birthday. Seven mofo years, since ..... *shudder*. Since the proper, real life rock bottom that often gets talked about by publicity-hungry starlets, but let me tell you, aint nothing glamorous about shitting your pants in public, vomiting on strangers (and then getting cranky at them like it was their fault), waking up next to a complete stranger in a city you don't know. Ewwwwwwwww. I have decided to be sociable for the first time all year, and am having a BBQ on Sunday. Actually, a spit roast with legs of pork and lamb (YUM YUM YUM FOOD FOOD FOOD). I just need to explain to a five year old why his mummy is turning seven. I will probably tell him that it has been seven years since I started a brand-new life being happy, and we're having a party to celebrate. I will tell him everything (within reason) when he's older, as I refuse to have secrets. The truth does definitely set you free - it's just finding the path to it that's the hard part.

Welcome to the world, little Cooper! May you grow big and strong and get to go home soon, sweet one!! xox

The Arse That Peanut Butter Built ***UPDATED***

Off to the GP today. In one hour ... and counting. Haven't seen him since I got a referral to IVFs-R-Us. I will be asking/begging/crying for an ultrasound. I've had a few weird pains, a bit crampy, so of course I'm a little freaked. La la la, trying not to think about it too much. Hmm hmm hmm. I so hope I'm concerned over nothing. I hope I get to update later with a pic of a healthy, 9-week fetus.
(Apparantly it's a fetus now). I was reading a pregnancy development site yesterday, and halfway through it perkily said "And .... your baby will be growing its anus this week!!" I have nearly finished off a whole jar of peanut butter in less than a week, when Mr TC questioned me I said "Well, I am growing an arse you know." Actually, my arse looks a bit bigger too .... I wonder why!?

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Everything's cool. My GP is so lovely, freely admitting to knowing next to nothing about IVF procedures, but so thrilled and amazed for me. Got me a scan straight away. The sonographer was beautiful, reassuring and just a really nice person. Straight away she found the embie/fetus/baby, in all it's glory. It's trapped actually - underneath a massive, freaky pile of discarded follicles. Like a junkyard in there man *shudder* My follies are all still so large, she said no wonder I have had pain, and they will take a while to go down.

So, I've not worried all afternoon. But, as I was waiting in line at the store to buy a new jar of peanut butter, it suddenly dawned on me. I am an irrational worrier - about all things. Always. I worry Mr TC will die in a fiery car crash. Or Tiger will be abducted by a stranger. Or I'll suddenly develop an inoperable tumour. Our house will burn down in a bushfire; my teeth will fall out; our plane will crash at Christmas time and kill us all and we haven't written wills. Etc.

It's natural to worry in the first trimester, and even more so if it's an IVF pregnancy. I'm sure I will not magically stop worrying at 12 weeks. But hopefully I can start managing my worry a bit better, so it's not so crippling.

Today, I was gratefully given 9 weeks, 188bpm worth of non-worry.

A Bit Better. And Bitter.

Last night, we went out to dinner with some friends. They have two kids and she is pregnant with her third - conceived on the pill. She rubbed her belly the whole night, which shocked me .... by how much it pissed me off. Also .... I joined a "Belly Buddy Due Date" forum thread - I tried, I really did. But I couldn't stand the "oh my God, my hubbie sneezed and now I'm 1 day pregnant, let's all share baby names! Like, wow, totally!!" Ummm - not for me. Part of that is due to my character - I'm quite a prickly pear IRL anyway. But, interesting to note my sadness/bitterness at wanting to fall pregnant for three years is still there, even with a tiny embryo on board.

My morning sickness is an office worker - clocks on at 9am, then works all day till knock off time at 5pm. Usually it does overtime too. I'm not complaining in the slightest, actually I love it. Every time it goes away I worry it won't come back again and something bad has happened. And food - my God, food never, ever has tasted so good. So. Good. Spicy, salty, greasy. It's all just bloody beautiful.

My beautiful sister Rex has offered me some baby furniture and clothes .... plus, her Baby Whisperer skills in the sleep department. She has been so sure of this ... I first told her I was thinking of IVF earlier this year and she was just so positive and supportive. Every time I talk to her I feel reassured by her certainty. I think that's her biggest gift.

The weekend was great - I was so freaking lazy. My MIL was good - except when I first walked in the door, she cornered me with the questions. The first, strangely enough, was "How long have you known?" Mr TC only told her earlier that day - and didn't bother to explain the whole getting-around-the-vasectomy scenario. So he left me with the lovely job of telling his mother this has been planned all year, IVF, etc. I was trying to escape - she kept firing "So, natural birth this time?" Ummm, are you freaking shitting me? I said I don't know, I had read stats on ruptured scars with VBACs that freaked me out. Plus, I wouldn't want what happened with Tiger to happen again. She bahed me, said there was no reason why I couldn't have it naturally. Thanks for that. Then she asked did I want a boy or girl. I should have told her the truth - at this stage, I'm just hoping everything's going ok in there and it's still alive. I just said I didn't mind. She made up for it though - cooked every meal and didn't let me clean up. We went to see The Kingdom at the movies, it was really good.

I'm waiting for IVF's-R-Us to call me back - Mr TC still has a sore penis. (Heh heh - penis). From the PESA he had over a month ago. He said it feels like there's a lump there too. I really hope it's just slow at healing.

I have an appointment on Friday with my GP, to see what care I will get from here. Plus, I'd really like another scan - as soon as I can.

The little embie should be looking more and more like a baby, which is exciting, nervewracking, amazing, unbelievable. I hope everything is in the right place. I hope it stays and grows. It feels like too much to ask.

Snap the F*k Out of It

Thelma and Louise's mum has tagged me. Hoorah - I don't know why I can't post lately. Actually, I can't much do ANYTHING. I'm a little down - my kilter is off. I even could possibly be ... a little depressed. Much as I hate that word, but there it is. I just want to go to sleep for a few months. Hopefully I will feel better soon - I'm pregnant, for fucks sake, so shut the f*k up! What do I have to complain about!! I'm sure I'll get over it. I always do.

Check out what happened to this poor woman. Can you imagine?

Here, in no particular order, are 8 random facts about me:

1. I spoke to my mother last night for the first time in 6 months. It was nice to hear her voice. There has been some serious rifts in my family this year ... it's a loooooong story. I told my mum I did IVF and was preggers, she was very happy happy for me. Maybe I'll see her soon - I stopped letting her have power over me many moons ago, so the whole dynamics are changed. I will never forget how dreadful she was to me when I was growing up - but I also don't want to be fuelled on hatred and bitterness. So we'll see ...

2. My real name is the name of Adam and Eve's garden.

3. It cost AUD$750 for my IVF cycle. Australia is one of (if not the most) cheapest countries in the world for IVF. Our government has a cashback scheme that is beyond belief. I'm incredibly lucky.

4. Tiger said to me the other day "People don't know you have a baby in your tummy. They just think you're fat." That's my boy!

5. I do at least one AA or NA meeting a week. It keeps me grounded. Sitting in a room full of people and sharing honestly about how you live your life is immensely therapeutic.

6. I had a caesarean with Tiger. I remember looking at my scar, thinking ... "Wow. Guess I'll never be a porn star now." How strange is that!

7. Hawkeye from M.A.S.H. is one of my most favourite tv characters.

8. I'm scared of dying.

I tag ... the lovely Evil Stepmonster

Buh Bye for now. I am off to my MIL's house for the weekend. Mmmmmm - eat and sleep. Repeat. Just what the doctor ordered. xoxo

7 WEKS!!!!!

I am a spelling FREAK. So it is with great irony that I am the proud owner of an ultrasound photo with "7 WEKS" splashed across it. The sonographer realised her mistake after she had printed it off ... if that was me, I would have done another one. But, guess what - I don't really care!! She can spell it in Aramaic if she likes, for today I saw a mofo heartbeat! 162 bpm! Hoorah! Holy Crap!

And, guess who has OHSS?? No wonder people are already asking have I got a name picked out. My follicles are massively ginormous - aint no hiding my bulging belly under any baggy hoodie. But I don't really care!! And, how's this for drama ... one of my ovaries looks like it could hemorrhage!! But I don't care - hopefully I won't be needing that fucker again anyway!

THERE IS WHAT SUSPICIOUSLY LOOKS LIKE THE MAKINGS OF A GROWING BABY IN MY UTERUS. I AM IN SHOCK.

Driving down there this morning, I suddenly realised that if I got bad news, I was all by myself. Why - why do I find it so hard to ask my friends for help?? I'm so stubbornly proud sometimes, I annoy myself immensely. Later on tonight, Mr TC will finally be back from 10 days away. Thank GOD. I morph into a bachelor when he's gone - don't clean up for days, eat cereal for dinner, generally just slob around. He rang me after my scan - and he was SO happy to hear it was good news!! It made me happier!!

The fertility nurse told me that's it - goodbye and goodluck, they won't be seeing me again. Told me to book into a hospital. WTF!! My next 'official' scan is supposed to be in 5 weeks - but fuck that. I'll be shamelessly faking sore ovary pain before then, to get one earlier. Actually, the ovary-that-might-explode is a teensy bit of a worry - if I bleed or have bad pain, I need to see someone asap.

I asked the nurse about sex. Actually, my exact words were "Well, I was thinking - she had the scan up there, so surely he can put his .. you-know up there?" Regaining her composure, she said we can have 'gentle' sex. I thought - gentle? Lady, this is my husband we're talking about ....

My sister Tee and her kids come up last week which was great. She's crocheting the most divine blanket for her new niece/nephew. Unreal. This is all unreal - so unreal, that it's surreal. I sat in the waiting room after my scan, waiting to see the nurse - and a lady there was going through her file. Man, it was a big, heavy mothafucka file. I prayed it was because she already had a few babies - and if she didn't, that she would soon. I thanked The Heavens for my luck.

There's a tiny beating being in my tummy. Wow. I will (try to) stop worrying ......... now.

The Waiting Place

In one of my most favourite books in the world, philosopher Dr Seuss talks of many places you will journey to in your life - and how to deal with them. "Oh, the Places You'll Go" was the last book he wrote and illustrated, and I often give it to people who are moving, or changing jobs, or leaving school. (Or, starting out in life).

This year, I have often thought about a particular part of the book.

Here's an excerpt .... for those of us in the world of IF/IVF world, it's especially poignant. If you're waiting to POAS, or waiting to get the green light to start treatment. If you're waiting for AF, your doctors appointment, or an FET. Waiting to miscarry. Waiting to try again after a loss. Waiting for your husband, partner. Waiting for your first scan, with everything you've got riding on seeing the heartbeat. Waiting to stop worrying. Waiting to feel normal again. Waiting to feel something. Waiting to get off this rollercoaster. Waiting to finally meet your baby. Waiting your turn, as everyone around you is getting BFPs. Waiting. Waiting for the green light. Waiting to become a mother. Waiting for the pain to stop ....

... this is for you. I wish you Boom Bands.

"You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're darked.
A place you could sprain both you elbow and chin!
Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?
How much can you lose? How much can you win?
And IF you go in, should you turn left or right...
or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?
Or go around back and sneak in from behind

Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find,
for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.
You can get so confused
that you'll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place ...

The Waiting Place ...
... for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.

Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a sting of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

NO!
That's not for you!
Somehow you'll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You'll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.
With banner flip-flapping,
once more you'll ride high!
Ready for anything under the sky!"

(Two more sleeps until I can stop waiting for my first scan.)

Psssst - have you heard Vons WONDERFUL NEWS????

Excuses, McNuggets, and the Telling of Tiger

My goodness, what a long time between drinks ... HA!! Sorry I have been remiss in the posting arena - a) my internet has been dodgy b) school holidays and c) a dog ate my homework. Actually, I've been thinking a lot of my previous post, and how it all just came bursting out. Thanks to you who left such warm, accepting and uplifting comments. It helps me stay true to myself and not be so ashamed of my past.

I notice this is my sixty-ninth post. 69 heh heh. Poor Mr TC has had no action in that department since my follicles were ripe and juicy and ready for the plucking. Parched indeed!

Apparently, I still have the tiny embie on board. 5 more sleeps until my scan, the sweet, glorious scan of enlightenment. I cannot WAIT. But wait I must. I have symptoms - on and off. I've felt brief periods of nausea. My new favourite meal is from McD0nalds (or, as Tiger would say, McDomino's) ...... consisting of a six pack of nuggets laid neatly sandwiched inside a quarter pounder. Thank God the nearest outlet is 40 minutes away, or I'd eat it every day. Also, I've laid right off the chocolate and am going for anything salty and tasty. Hormones have kicked in too ...... poor, poor Mr TC. He's away for 10 days at the moment (RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!!) I always blamed my intense feelings of anger during my time carrying Tiger on the fact that I was oly 4 months clean & sober. That seems not to be the case at all. I am an angry, moody psycho. Must maintain an exercise regime. Maybe meditation. Maybe a locked cupboard.

Of course, every morning I wake up and do NOT feel preggers in the slightest. Trying not to get upset or worried so much. Mr TC rang this morning from his African drumming camp - I told him my concerns. In his wonderfully blunt way, he said "Look hon, you're past the point of am I, aren't I. You definitely are - and if there's something wrong and the baby is deformed, well, we wouldn't want it born anyway so it's all for the best".

It appears I strangely felt better after that.

I finally have told Tiger. We were swimming at a pool, no-one else was there so I thought it was a good a time as any. He couldn't believe it, he was so, so excited. "Can I name it? I know - let's call it ... ummm .... ummmm," looking around at the pool and spa "Let's call it swimmer!" Considering the state of his fathers very own swimmers ... it was quite apt indeed. He thinks he can feel it kicking already, and kisses it hello in the mornings. He wants it to be a boy so he can put it's hat on backwards and teach it to "Peace Out, Y'all".

LOTS of people now know. I'm uneasy about it - but I'm seriously showing so much! I think that's a good sign, it's already making it's presence known in the world. I desperately hope that I don't have to untell people. I've made a pact with myself that if I see the beating heart next week, that's it. No more ridiculous, unhealthy, obsessive worrying about if it's still alive.

I'm still shocked and surprised by this - I can picture myself turning to hubby during it's Bridal Waltz, saying "I can't BELIEVE you had sperm!!!"