Hanging On

I don't understand how I could get an embryo transfer on 1st September last year, and the embryo took. And then the embryo grew, and grew, and grew into a baby. And then, four days before the baby was about to come out, my husband could be diagnosed with cancer. So then, the whole world went topsy-turvy and suddenly my husband had started the fight of his life, my pregnancy was forgotten, Mr TC was sick sick sick.

What kind of competition in hell did I win? I'm not on speaking terms with God at the moment; in fact, I DID say a prayer to him the other day, when Mr TC was having his bone biopsy ...

Dear God,

Even though you're a motherfucking arsehole, can you please make sure Mr TCs bone marrow biopsy goes ok for him today.

Topcat.

Know what happened? The fuckers took FIVE GOES to get the needle into his bone marrow.

Mr TC has stage 3 agg.ressive no.n-hodg.kins lymp.hom.a. (I have to keep disguising that with dots, otherwise avid googling family and friends of ours might stumble across my blog. Then I would have to run away and start a new life in Mexico .... actually, that's not a bad idea.)

He has had one night at home since Monkey has been born. I was supposed to go and pick him up today for a triumphant homecoming .... but he started his chemo yesterday. I texted him this morning, because MY googling led me to discover the first bout of chemo always knocks you for a six. Mr TC could hardly speak, hardly think, he has been throwing up all night.

I don't know if he can come home now.

I have two sons. Did you know you can be married AND be a single parent at the same time?

My wonderful, beautiful, amazing, much longed-for miracle IVF baby is 13 days old. He has dimples. His hair looks red in the sunlight. He sleeps a lot. He is so fucking good looking it's not funny. He is calm and placid, my magnificent sisters both agree that it's like he knew he had to be. He's not fussy at all. I'm quite laid back with him, let him have a little cry when he needs to and don't stress over every little thing. His legs haven't unfurled yet. He is much smaller than Tiger was. He sucked his hands in the womb, so has quite a strong suction on him when it comes to breastfeeding! I call him my little mothersucker. Sometimes I call him his secret blog name ... Monkey. It suits him. His belly button thingy fell off last night. His daddy knows none of these things.

I live in a beautiful part of the world. Compared to Sydney, it's a really small community up here. Which is good. And bad. The mums at Tigers school have done up a roster, to pick him up and drop him off from school every day, plus we get someone delivering a yummy dinner every single night! Isn't that amazing. (Even though I'm so standoffish with most people! Tee said "Gee, can you imagine if you had actually been NICE.") I mean, I am nice .... I guess I'm just reserved, as I don't go around telling people I'm a recovering alcoholic/junkie. And when people don't know that about me, I always feel like I'm holding back, like they don't really know me. (Or if they did, they wouldn't want to!)

Now, I am the freak who's husband got cancer days before she gave birth. EVERYONE knows. I have been in lockdown mode, these past 2 weeks. Not answering my phone or the front door. I can't. Some people are genuinely, lovingly worried about us ... other people are just curious fuckwits, slowing down to view the car crash. Fuck OFF.

The next post I do will be all about Monkeys birth, with some amazing photos. I keep looking down at him, willing myself to be in the moment, right there with him, soaking him up and drinking him in. His birth has been tainted, overlooked, almost forgotten. Yesterday, I put the biggest, longest, extravagent birth notice in the paper. Cost nearly sixty bucks, but I didn't care. A new, beautiful soul has entered the world and goddamit I will remind people that it has been a happy time too. Has it? Can you be happy when you look down at your newborn and wonder if he will ever know his dad? And my precious little 6 year old Tiger .... he is sick of different people minding him. His life has been turned upside down. Today I am pouring all of my love out onto him, doing only fun things, paying him my whole attention. We will go the park and the video shop and buy hot chips, and I will chat cheerily to him, and pretend it's just a normal day.

After cooking and baby minding and doing SO much, my sister Rex left yesterday. We were doing fine, and I felt strong ..... until I went out to get some wood in for the fire, looked up, and saw the biggest, blackest, hairiest huntsman spider, right near the wood pile. I freaked out and ran inside, panicked and scared and crying. Mr TC always gets the spiders for me .... teasing me about my biggest fear.

I hadn't cried all day, but fuck I bawled over that stupid fucking spider.

The fire went out.

Monkey Grip

I can't seem to find the right words to post. I have so, so much to say. We are home, (well, me and Monkey are, anyway) and we are tired and weary. Mr TC was there for Monkeys birth, than went straight down to the big hospital. On Friday morning, I told the doctors I don't CARE that Monkey looks yellow and maybe we should do 'just one more heel prick to check his levels' .... we were leaving at 9am. I knew he wasn't jaundiced, and he wasn't.

Tee picked us up, and we hightailed it down to the big hospital. Make that the big, putrid, stinky hospital that is full of fuckwits. Oops, is that too judgemental? I had Monkey in a sling, with a throw over him, and my biggest fuck-off vibes. Yes it's a tiny baby now FUCK OFF. Instead of Mr TC picking us up and driving us straight home, where we introduced our lovely little guy to his home and bedroom and new world with us, Monkey got driven straight to visit daddy in a cancer ward. I couldn't make this shit up.

Seriously. It appears the Universe has played a big trick on us - you want a baby? Here, have a baby .... oh, but that comes with a side-serving of CANCEROUS TUMOURS in your husbands stomach.

Mr TC has non-hodgkins lymphoma. He had a biopsy last Wednesday, he cried with pain on the phone to my sister Tee. Rex has stayed with him in his hospital, doing EVERYTHING for him, how I love both of my sisters love and generosity. We couldn't be getting through this without them.

This week he will be getting a bone marrow biopsy and full body scan, to see how far it has spread. Repeat after me .... no cancer in the bones, please. I don't know much, but I do know that cancer in bones = BAD.

I will be posting again, soon, hopefully. Monkeys birth was surreal, amazing, scary. My nightmares have been out of control ... I need to think positively.

In hospital I got told told I wasn't just in shock, I was in trauma. I'm still processing everything. Monkey is perfect. I am determined to enjoy this short time of newborn-ness, and not get swallowed up in cancerland.

Up, down, around. Elated, exhausted, terrified.

I have read every single comment ... twice. I can't wait to check in on my peeps .... and some new peeps, it seems. Thank you for your warm wishes, and love, and thoughts. I have felt them, and we have desperately needed them.

xoxoxo

Happy Birthday Monkey!

Hi all - Tee and Rex here,

We are the VERY proud aunties of a beautiful beautiful BOY! His name is R_occo and he is just under 8 pounds, and 53 cms tall.

Topcat and Mr TC are amazing, they booked him into his hospital yesterday afternoon and were both relieved to be told that he could come home that night. So after some tests, and waiting around to speak to a doc, they arrived back here.

To be honest excitement was sadly lacking this morning, we are all still really shellshocked by the surrealness and wrongness of what's going on. That aside though, they managed to film a hilarious clip on their video that they'd been planning for months. They drove off around 10.30am. We picked up Tiger around 1.30pm and headed off after them. We were shunted into the waiting room and proceeded to wait for half a freaking hour all the while Tiger's playing with the useless toys on offer and occasionally saying 'this is taking forever!'. Finally a midwife summonsed us and we went to Topcat's room.

Mr TC was standing in the middle of the room looking down at his baby, it's Monkey! [insert actual boy name here] he declared the minute he saw us. Despite the threat of the baby licking, we decided to step back at this point and didn't even hold the little tacker until Topcat came back from recovery. You'll be pleased to know that she didn't have to go under a general this time so was the first person to hold him.

Topcat was quietly convinced it was a boy, despite most others thinking it was a girl, she told us that during the procedure, they pulled him out and when she heard the cry she looked up and to put it in her eloquent words "all I saw was this ballbag coming at me!".

He is such a sweet baby, looks a little like Tiger but with dimples. His hair colour is still up for debate so the competition winner can't be announced until after his first bath.

Tiger LOVES his lil bro, he's so proud and waves at him, asking things like "mum, can Monkey have some chocolate"?

Tiger insisted on being driven back up after his shower tonight for another hold of his brother. He is so sweet and careful with him, and held him for quite a long time whilst Topcat was being washed. On the drive home he said "aunty Tee, did Monkey stink a bit?" I had to laugh and agreed with him, just that weird bloody, amniotic fluidy smell that newborns have when they haven't been washed.. Ahh Tiger, you've your mother's nose!

Anyway peeps, we just wanted to let you all know that we are all REALLY touched by your beautiful caring words - keep up the positive loving - we all need it over here. We are so SO SO proud of our amazing sister and know that she will get through this, that her great hunk of a gorgeous bloke will fight his damndest to get through this and we will be with them every tiny little step of the way.

Yours proudly

Tee and Rex xx

Pics below...

Nothing

Terrible, awful, no-good, very bad. The world seems to have crushed down on us, it's very hard to breathe.

I have thought dark thoughts and felt horror of what is going to happen. I have coped with some crap in my life, but this is just ridiculous. Other peoples reactions are really starting to PISS ME OFF, this "Oh my God he's going to die!!!" look in peoples eyes, yesterday I found myself talking to people trying to make THEM positive, and every time I did they were just like "Oh, but the timing!" "Oh, no! My friend died from that!" (Yes, seriously). From now on when people say "What can I do?" I will ask them to think positive thoughts, for fucks sake.

It's like a roller coaster, that I can't get off. I can't Pollyanna-think my way out of it, but don't want to get stuck in the mire of the what-ifs.

Mr TC is getting worse. His stomach is bloated, it's hard for him to move. He's quiet, and pale, and serious. He can't think properly, doesn't want to see anyone, says he's not scared but has a look in his eyes that makes me want to cry. We need to know how bad it is, they are hopefully doing the biopsy on Wednesday. I have googled lymphoma and am trying to work out my own diagnosis, I predict a very aggressive form because of the increasing pain. He is on painkillers which he HATES, now it has taken the pain away but left behind this awful physical hard feeling in his tummy. I knew he was thinking something big yesterday. I asked what. Nothing. I said, seriously, please just let it out hon. All his words tumbled out "Well, if something DOES happen to me, there's this home loan, sell my ute, try and take care of all the kids, maybe move into somewhere smaller and rent this house out so you've got income coming in til you decide what the fuck you'll do, ..." blah blah blah. I just nodded and said sure, will do.

I thought the baby might come last night, I had 2 contractions and it felt like the baby was dropping into position. I thought .... good. The baby can come and we can be together for a little bit at least, and we won't tell anyone, not till morning.

But the baby didn't come, and that's ok because today we have to pick out a carseat and I need tracksuit pants and we haven't finished cleaning the office and we need chicken wings for the dog yes Tee and Rex will walk her don't worry Tiger can go to a friends house today oh - and both of us need to pack hospital bags. And if the big hospital rings then we will drive down together and I will make sure my hubbie is propped up in bed and give him my iPod and some magazines, and then I will drive back home to spend my last night pregnant in an empty bed BECAUSE LIFE IS A CUNT LIKE THAT.

Sorry.

I'm in shock. We all are. Except Tiger ... I have to protect my guy.

Aftershock

I keep waiting until I feel better to post. But I'm not. Thanks so much for everyone's comments, and for keeping us in your thoughts. It really does mean a lot.


My poor sweet man, Goddamit I love him so much and I'm so scared. The night we found out, we just held each other all night. I couldn't sleep at all - literally, not a wink. Just my two eyes peeping wide out into the darkness, holding him so close, with disbelief at what is happening underneath his skin. He got up to go the toilet and nearly collapsed, I had to help him back into bed. I listened to his breathing all night, afraid it would stop. We got up at 2am and sat up on the couch next to the fire, watching some elder Aboriginals on tv making boomerangs by hand. It was amazing. We kept telling each other we loved each other, Mr TC said "It's like it was when we first met!" And it was, our love in the room around us like this big, palpable presence.


The day gave us some light. I'd written lists and lists of stuff we needed to do before we both go in. He's very worried about his business - he employs 6 people, they're all on different jobs. He has just built a beautiful brand-new house that we can let-out for holiday accomodation ... we need to get it furnished and up and running to start getting some money in. He has health insurance, so hopefully they will come to the party. (Cancer party! Yay!)


He gets admitted on Sunday, for a biopsy and 'look' operation on Wednesday. Strange that he has to spend three nights in there first, but 'a good bed is hard to find' in the public system and we can't risk losing it. The doctor has been so lovely, really working hard to find a surgeon for us. Hopefully Mr TC can get a daypass out on Monday, to be there with me when the baby is born.


We need to find out what we are dealing with, before they can treat it. I didn't expect to be asking about the effects of a person on chemo being near a newborn, during my last-ever doctors appointment yesterday.

I keep crying at really inopportune times .... standing in line at the grocery store, walking up the street. How strange for people to look at me with such sparkly excitement in their eyes ... when having a baby is the furthest thing on my mind. I have organised a quick release program from hospital, so that I can be visited by the midwives. This is mainly for my little Tiger, who got in the car this morning, and after picking up on all the 'vibes' with Mr TC and I said "Geez mum. Today is just really weird." We have told him that daddy is a bit sick in his tummy and has to go into hospital, but that Auntie Tee and Auntie Rex will be here to take good care of him and then mum and dad will both be home.

My sisters will be here on Sunday. I think I have been putting that off, because I know after this weekend that our lives will be forever different, no matter what happens.

I have an awful feeling that I have created this, which is quite irrational. But Mr TC always reckons I fear spiders so much that they always come to me, and scare me. I have experienced a lot of deaths of people close to me, and sometimes I have worried about what would I do if Mr TC died. Like the whole "The Secret" thing, manifesting your reality. But, I think, if that was real ..... then there would be no infertility blogs, would there.

I'm a bit all over the place today. This morning, we were all having a cup of tea by the fire, and Mr TC was telling Tiger he'll have to take the garbage out as one of his jobs. Tiger goes "No - you can take the garbage out when you're a ghost." I felt sick, and hoped Mr TC didn't notice. Then the dog jumped off the ute ... when she was leashed on there, so she was dangling like a freaking hangman. Mr TC grabbed her and she was fine, but she has never done that before.

It's all surreal and strange and numb. I can't believe the timing.

In twenty years from now I want to be talking to my twenty-year old child about what a scary week it was before he/she was born. And then Mr TC will walk into the room and crack a silly joke about it and I will laugh but say a silent thank you up to the universe.

_____________

I cannot get this song out of my head. I'm going to find it and play it so loud it will blast all my yucky cobwebs away.






Ultraviolet (Light My Way) - U2

Sometimes I feel like I don't know
Sometimes I feel like checking out.
I wanna get it wrong
Can't always be strong
And love, it won't be long.
Oh, sugar, don't you cry.
Oh, child, wipe the tears from your eyes.
You know I need you to be strong
And the day it is dark, as the night is long.
Feel like trash, you make me feel clean.
I'm in the black, can't see or be seen.

Baby, baby, baby, light my way.
Alright now, baby, baby, baby, light my way.

You bury your treasure where it can't be found
But your love is a secret that's been passed around.
There is a silence that comes to a house
Where no-one can sleep.
I guess it's the price of love;
I know it's not cheap.
Oh, come on, baby, baby, baby, light my way.
Oh, come on, baby, baby, baby, light my way
Baby, baby, baby, light my way.
I remember when we could sleep on stones.
Now we lie together in whispers and moans.
When I was all messed up and I heard opera in my head
Your love was a light bulb hanging over my bed.

Baby, baby, baby, light my way.
Oh, come on, baby, baby, baby, light my way.

We just got back from the cancer clinic. Looks like Mr TC has some form of 'systematic lymphoma' in his stomach/intestines.

He is in extreme pain, the doctor is going to find a surgeon for him asap, hopefully tomorrow. He needs to be opened up, to see how advanced it is and how far it has spread.

I cannot believe I am typing this.

The doctor said it's likely he will need chemo.

We sat in the waiting room that was full of old people and there was a wicker basket of free knitted beanies.

He probably won't be there when Monkey is born, we will be in different hospitals.

We are both in shock.

Apologies in Advance ...

So guess who had an ultrasound yesterday? No - not me .... my husband. Because there is something wrong, and the doctors don't know what! He could need an operation! Or, it might be cancer! Or, just a twisted stomach muscle!

Hooray for choices!

I'm quite (VERY) freaked out about it. I just want us all to be ok ..... I NEED us to all be ok.

I want to cry, but can't seem to.

Mr TC just rang ... the doctor doesn't know what it is, got an opinion from a surgeon, doesn't know either. He had an ultrasound and x-ray yesterday, today they booked him in for a cat scan. Mr TC thinks it's his intestine ... every time he eats, he gets sick, he's bloated, and feels like 'something's leaking in there.'

I feel like I need to start writing the dates down of all these procedures he's getting, to keep track.

It's all fun and games up here, really.

The Man from the Moon, Fridge Magnets, and an Angelic Dead Dad

What a weekend. Mr TC spent a lot of it either in extreme pain, or in the ER at the local hospital ... with a suspected hernia. This morning he got up at 1.30am and nearly fainted. This is my big tough guyo husband - he NEVER gets sick. It's not a hernia, they don't know what it is. Possibly a bowel infection, that is causing bloatedness, pain, and nausea.

Really what we'd like to be dealing with this week ... not. I just want him to be ok, my mind has wandered into "what if it's something really serious" territory, which has scared me shitless. He was scared too, though he would never admit it. But I saw it in his eyes. I hope he can sleep tonight. I told him it's probably just sympathy pregnancy pains.

I adore Mr TC so very much. We are so right together, in most ways ... and have slowly built a solid, grounding relationship together. Something neither of us ever have really had.



SO .... a few prayers to Universe would most definitely not go astray ;)



I promise, if I go into labour early (which I don't think I will) my sisters Tee and Rex will post asap. With pics, even. As long as Tee doesn't lick the baby while I'm getting stitched up. If I don't go into labour early, I will be getting my STOMACH SLICED OPEN (aka popping the sunroof) on Monday, the 19th May .. I have a whole post about that brewing. And if any prick changes the date on me again, I will burn the hospital to the ground.




I looked down to see how badly my toenails needed a pedicure, but all I could see was this .....


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and no, it's not the moon!!!!


Check out my sister Tees latest handicrafts. She is AMAZINGLY TALENTED in the craft department. She calls herself an artist, and I tend to agree. These are some trousers she knitted for Monkey ....

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When I was a kid, there was a show called Mr Squiggle. (All you fellow Aussies are gonna die when you see this..) Mr Squiggle would sit next to a lady called Miss Jane, and turn a 'squiggle' on a blackboard into a picture, using his pencil nose. Tee knitted Monkey a Mr Squiggle doll. It's about 50cm tall, and totally authentic, right down to the pencil nose ....
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How much does he rock!! He's seriously getting packed in my hospital bag. (HOSPITAL BAG OH MY GOD THE EMBRYO IMPLANTED).



Here, for no apparent reason, is a photo of my fridge ....

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Beneath the Monkey Magic magnet, there's a pic of me when I was a kid on there, next to one of Mr TC when he was a kid. There's Tiger with his face painted as the hulk, a beautiful one of stepdaughter as a fairy, and my favourite fridge magnet that says "Remember, as far as anyone knows we're a nice, normal family."
Lastly, I cannot BELIEVE that the awesome Pam aka Wordgirl asked about this ring I wear ..
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I used to wear it all the time, but I took it off the night before I got married. It's my fathers ring - my real father. It's the only thing I have of his - of course, my manhands meant that it didn't need adjusting!! Pam and I have similar father and family .... circumstances. It's his signet ring, I think. With his initials on it. Sometimes I would touch it, and just think "Wow, my dad used to wear this." It was a tiny, miniscule thing that would make me feel connected to him. Many years ago, Tee clocked it, and said "What are you wearing THAT thing for?" I didn't really know - maybe to feel close to him - the violent, alcoholic Scottish arsehole, the one who rejected me because I wasn't the son he wanted. I'm sure, if he was here today, he would be proud of me. I'm not sure how much I would want him in my life, though. Some marks can never be erased, some things the word 'sorry' can never heal.

So, last November I was having an amnio. It was HORRIBLE. The doctor had a thick Scottish accent and called me 'lass' in such a tender way that it briefly broke my heart. The day of the amnio, I put this ring on, because I inexplicably felt the presence of my long-dead arsehole of a dad, watching over and helping me.

I have had it on ever since. I'll take it off ... after Monkey is here safe and sound. I'm superstitious like that.

xo

Still Here

I'm officially excited and ready. I feel ready.

Last night I dreamt that it was in the middle of my c-section ... and I told the doctors to hang on, while I sat up and took photos. Then the baby came out, and my nipples were silver taps that I turned and lemonade came out. The baby sucked those taps dry, and I felt so proud!

My laptop has totally died in the arse. I am upstairs on Mr TCs computer, 'just downloading some pics'. (Ahem).

I just want to soak up every last drop of being pregnant now, as I will never be again. I keep thinking man, how am I going to look after the baby with such a big belly in the way? But the baby IS the belly. Oh my God ... THE BABY IS THE BELLY. Shit. I'm so freaking excited to meet it. I'm thinking the name Ramona for a girl. I used to read the books when I was a kid, but I have never met someone with that name. I love it. (Hey Mony - I could call her Mony HA!!)

But, my gut still tells me it's a boy. When people ask me if I know what it is, I've started saying "Well, we're pretty sure it's a baby!" Hilarious I know.

I bought cupcakes home for dessert .... and forgot about them! Only remembered the next day! That is SERIOUS pregnancy brain, to forget cupcakes. I've also forgotten my home phone number - oh, and thrown the brand new home phone handset IN THE BIN. It's seriously gone forever. I denied it, but hubbie SO knows it was me. Oopsies.

I can't believe my tickers. I would look at other pregnancy tickers with awe, and envy. And now mine are nearly finished. From 'a grain of rice', to 'ready to come out.' I can't believe we were all in wombs ourselves. I can't believe my luck.

I have to go, but I will try to update with a few pics soon.

xoxoxo

Mexican Standoff ***UPDATED AT TOP***

**** Ok, after working on my acceptance, I've sheepishly calmed the hell down. The hospital DID call me back. The client liason officer named Alexis, to be precise. She apologised for the mix-up, and said that both doctors will be spoken to. She then gave me a new c-section date ... of the 23rd May. One day AFTER my actual due date. I went ballistic .... I told her, obviously the doctor knows that I am likely to go into labour before then? And that would mean an emergency caesar? I told her it appeared Dr Stinky had washed his hands of me. She told me to "have a cup of tea" (!!!!!!!!) ... and a midwife will call me back. I then rang Mr TC, a ranting raving looney. I had seriously lost the plot by then.

A midwife called me back - saying sorry, but Alexis the liason officer had told me the wrong date ... I now have a c-section date of Monday, the 19th May. It's like, beyond ridiculous. I've given up, pulled my head in, and decided to suck it up. There are much worse things that could be happening. I am really, very grateful to have made it this far. Just frustrated about how I have been treated - if they aren't telling me there's something wrong with the heartbeat, they are YELLING at me for changing the date. Dr Stinky is likely not going to do the caesar, a completely different doctor who I have never met will.

Mr TC was FURIOUS. I feel like running into Dr Stinkys office tomorrow and yelling "ANYWAY, MY HUSBAND WANTS TO PUNCH YOU OUT." That'll teach him.

The funniest thing has been my sister Tees reaction to all the bullshit today. She says if they change the date again, SHE will go into labour. She wants to ring the hospital and tell them that Dr Stinky STINKS. And she said that Monkey is most likely sitting in there, laughing away, thinking "None of these pricks even know I'll be born tomorrow anyway!!"

(Whenever Monkey does come, she will post straight away.)


*************** End of update



I don't believe I have complained much, during the last 9 months. Please allow me to make up for that now.

I AM SO FUCKING ANGRY.

A routine doc appontment with Dr Stinky Eyelashes today, he sees that the different doc of last week has booked my c-section for next Wednesday, 14th May. He starts shaking his head, saying "No, no, no, this will not do. You must go until the 20th May, as planned."

Straight away I was annoyed. I asked, why do different people keep telling me different things? He was SUCH A RUDE PRICK, raises his voice at me, basically accusing me of changing the date behind his back, walked out of the office mid-conversation to talk to the midwife on duty. I lost it.

I am just so tired of .... everything, actually. Of the worry and panic I keep feeling, of people staring at me like I'm a freak, of being petrified at 2 'o'clock in the morning of how drastically a baby is going to change all of our lives, of having no sleep for the next year, of being treated like some dumb idiot by every medical person that I see.

So the doc and I exchanged some heated pleasantries for a while, the midwife comes in to try and diffuse the situation. I kept saying to him .. "But why are you blaming me? This is not my fault! I didn't change the date, I got TOLD yet another different date." The midwife was explaining to me that if he did do the c-section two days ... even one day before 39 weeks, he will get hauled before the administrator to explain why. So basically, he has to cover his arse. (On the 14th May I will be 38 weeks 6 days).

Of course I understand that. At one point I just glared at him, and said "I AM THE ONE PREGNANT HERE!! I AM NOT JUST A NUMBER, YOU KNOW."

*sigh*

In the end, he was scowling like a slapped arse, flicking angrily through his calender. "Well I SUPPOSE, if you INSIST, the c-section can be done on Thursday the 15th or Friday the 16th."

Fuck you, c*nt. I grabbed my bag and stormed out of his office, my cowboy boots clapping furiously down the corridor. The midwives watched me go. I am home now, I don't expect anyone to ring to organise anything. Dr Stinky Eyelashes is not coming anywhere near me with a scalpel.

At this point, I'm seriously considering dragging Tigers wading pool out from under the house, filling it up, and havin' me a good old-fashioned water birth.

Have I mentioned that I don't even WANT a c-section? That because I had one with Tiger, I have no choice now? Unless I drive over an hour away to a bigger hospital that has recently had a ton of press coverage about it's overworked, understaffed maternity wing. Yay for choices.

Where I'm at right now? Do nothing, and wait for my waters to break.

I thought birth was supposed to be a joyous experience. ARSEHOLES.

One Belly ... to Rule Them All!!!

Well, as you can guess from the light-hearted tone of the title, I have been given the all clear. Hooray! Actually, the midwives today were all so cranky - the concensus was that there was nothing really wrong with yesterdays printout anyway, they weren't 'decelerations', just a normal heartbeat reading. Thank GOD. I'm so sorry for such abrupt declarations of fear yesterday, I have this belief that if I name my worst fear of what can happen, then it won't happen.

Of course, just as I was leaving, a midwife told me that the doctor measured Monkey at 2 weeks behind. Gee, thanks for that! I choose to believe all is well. I have lit a candle in Monkeys bedroom tonight, and will every night. To help bring Monkey home safe and sound. I will be having a c-section IN 12 DAYS!!

I have so much to write about ... before Monkey comes. I want to write a little bit about Tigers birth. 

I want to write about how normal being pregnant is now .... but how I know that will change. In a few years time it will be a distant memory and I will look at pregnant bellies in the street with awe, like the looks I am getting now. Monkey will grow and grow and change into a little person running around, and I will look back on my pregnant belly pics with incredulous wonder.

I think Monkey is a boy ... or a girl. That narrows it down, HA.

If anyone wants to ask me any questions - anything at all, ask away! Plus, I'll rope my identical twin sisters Tee and Rex in too (who are celebrating their birthdays today HAPPY BIRTHDAY HOMIES!!) - if you have any questions for them I will pass them on. Especially for all you twin mamas!

Here are a shitload more photos. The only shoes I can fit into now are my boots, effectively making me a cowboy every single day. I also wear my preggo jeans daily .... and Tee gave me this amazing top the other week. She got it off eBay, it was hand-embroidered in Mexico. I LOVE it, and am trying to wear it sparingly. Apparently, she had it on last year sometime, asked me what I thought, and I told her she looked pregnant in it!! She hasn't worn it since .. and since I AM pregnant, she gave it to me. (Tee I'm so sorry I was so rude - but so glad it's mine!)

Thanks much for such lovely comments. In Australia, if you love yourself, you're considered a 'love-o'. (There's one for you, Pam! :) So here I am, posting more pics of myself that I have already been complimented on. I am a shameless lovo, for I know (pray) that in a few short weeks I will be wearing tracksuit pants with fuzzy hair and an even fuzzier brain.

Lets play pretend that I ALWAYS look like this HA ...

Me and hubbie. Can you believe, he rang today in the middle of my trace scan, and starts harping on about some bullshit. I said "Mate, listen to this for a sec ..." and put the phone to the machine. I turned it up loudly (I was in there alone), and made him listen to Monkeys beautiful, miraculous heartbeat. "THAT is the sound of your babys heartbeat, and everythings fine, thanks for asking!!" ....

Possibly my favourite belly pic. In order of appearance from the left ... Crash Bandicoot, Tiger, Monkey, and me ...



Bono makes this gesture when he sings certain U2 songs. Bono - *sigh* ...


Monkeys room!! Ok I totally know it's a little bare ... we don't really do baby showers where I am from, so I guess I'm waiting on some nice pressies once Monkey is here. I have put the word out for "colourful baby crap, and toys." ...



The squeaky, root-free bed. See that campervan on the table? That was mine when I was a kid. Original Fisher Price .... it even has it's own toilet ... (the table isn't staying, btw) ...



Once we know the sex, I'll decorate a bit (ummm, lot!) more ....

Ok, remember Tees rabbit rattle? Well look at the cat! She made a denim cat, too! SO cute. (I'm going to have to devote a whole post to her handicrafts. She is seriously thinking of starting a craft blog.) In the middle is Pink Ted, who was given to me when I was born. I can't believe I never lost him ... he's been through all the dramas and the rehabs with me! Oh the stories he could tell!! ...


Lastly - thank you so much to those who still read, and are still TTC. I'll be here, cheering and waving you on. Madly.
That's it. That's all I got.
xox

What, Me Worry??

So. I have got a grip .... just.

Went to the appointment today, different doctor. (Such a surprise - NOT). I know I'm lucky to live in a country where medical procedures and hospitals are free, but for fucks sake, I'm now getting a little bit sick and tired of ZERO continuity of care. New doctors and nurses every visit, everyone is rushed and overworked. My proper appointment was 2 days ago - when I arrived, the doctor had simply left for the day. Righto - fuck you, fuck you very much.

So, today, Dr Different (but much nicer smelling) asked me if I had any problems. I mentioned I was getting concerned about lack of movement, I know there's not much room in there, but there's seriously a few nudges here or there compared to full-blown feet and hands and elbows sticking out all over the place. He listened to me, and then said he might pop me on a trace, just to check Monkeys movements for 20 minutes or so.

Cool. So out to the midwife, she leads me down to a labour room, I get strapped in for monitoring of movement, heartbeats, and contractions. She left me there alone, no worries. I had to press the button when I felt any movement. I could tell that Monkeys heartbeats were pretty erratic, from 150/160bpm down to 106bpm. I mentioned this when she came back in, she said not to worry, as long as it stays above 110bpm. Then she left.

About 40 minutes went past, and I thought, seriously, I have to go. But I didn't want to unstrap myself. I called out, but no-one heard me. I thought about buzzing, but felt silly, as I wasn't even a patient. So I used the phone next to the bed to call the switchboard, told them I had to go.

She comes back in .... "Oh, I forgot about you! Ha!"

I was crushed. I had to blink back tears, for Christs sake! Super-sensitive. She unstraps me, and takes the printout for someone to read. I grab my stuff and walk out, there's about 4 people huddled around Monkeys trace readout. They are worried, because of the spikes in Monkeys heartbeat. I felt sick, and just needed to get out so I could cry. They all agreed for me to come back tomorrow for a longer trace, if I have any concerns overnight to come in straight away, I said sure, scurried out and cried and cried.

What concerns? That the baby is going to TOTALLY stop moving and die??

5 minutes later I rang them, and said look, I don't really understand - what exactly is wrong? She was lovely, said sorry, they should have been more clear, that if there was any 'major' concerns over the baby they wouldn't have let me leave today, blah blah. I felt a bit better, but have been quite worried since. What if there is something wrong with Monkeys heart? What if Monkey dies, or is very sick, or ... or .... ANYTHING?

Ugh. I'm 37 weeks today, so that's term. Usually there is a problem about trying to keep the babys IN ... I just want mine OUT. I don't want to be pregnant anymore. I want to be holding Monkey safe and sound, complaining about lack of sleep.

I can't bear the thought of something going wrong at this point. It can't. It just freaks me that I had a trace for lack of movement, but now the worry is over the heartbeat.

Oh - and Dr Different scheduled my c-section for the 14 May (instead of the 20th May) .... in one week and 6 days time! So I was right all along. I am in NO MOOD to be fucked around anymore. If Dr (Stinky) Eyelashes trys to change it to the 20th I'm just going to put my foot down. If any nurse "forgets" me again - WATCH OUT!!

I'm cranky. And really, really scared. Please be ok, lil baby.

I'll post one pic, but don't feel like posting anymore - worried about jinxing myself.

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