Mrs Negative: August 2007

Hard to Watch..

Thanks for your encouragement regarding my GB test. I will cross one bridge at a time....as has been my precedent.

For many seasons I have avoided certain Pay TV programmes like the plague.
And it's not only Blokesworld.
Shows like "Bringing Home Baby" and "Maternity Ward" and particularly "Test Tube Babies" have flashed across my screen, viewed for a few moments & then switched off. For obvious reasons they were painful to watch. Since falling pregnant I have found myself watching snippets, guarded, cynical. Bruised. But allowing myself a curious education (especially Maternity Ward) & trying not to roll my eyes with such an air of authority.
I realise that these programmes are edited for the best viewing value....but gosh they are hard for an IVF gal to watch.
Yesterday's episode of "Test Tube Babies" showcased a perfectly lovely couple in their late 30's. He had 4 children from a past relationship. Vasectomy. They were together 18 months. She was sure she never wanted children. Until she met him & decided he was an "Alright Guy" and wanted to have his baby. We watched them go to injection lessons. She was incredibly wimpy. Possibly overplaying it for the camera but she had to leave the room entirely on one occasion because the sight of an injection had her nearly in tears. Straight away I started yelling at the TV "Toughen up honey"....The cycle was air brushed to hell. Everything went fine. We watched them stroll out of the clinic after transfer arm in arm. The commentator informed us that in 12 days time they'll know if they got pregnant. The next scene opens up with the words "12 Days Later..." the couple look incredibly stressed, high strung, sad. That's more like the IVF I know, I thought. We hear that the couple are here for Beta even though she started bleeding over the weekend. Her period arrived. Suddenly I felt sad for them. Knowing that disappointment. "Our whole world is over" he said. "We can try again" she said through glassy eyes.
You can imagine my surprise when the clinic co-ordinator informed the couple that they were pregnant. "It's Positive" she said
"Oh My God!" Squealed the lady.
"Well!" Shouted the man.
"WTF???" Dribbled I.

I wonder what's on Blokesworld.

Give me a BREAK!

For fucks sake!
I failed our Gestational Diabetes test. Of Course! Why wouldn't I? I seem to suck at everything!
Now I have to do the 2 hour tolerance test.....all these tests. I seriously feel like we are paying the wages at "Acme Pathology".

Is it the era of "Too Many Tests"???? Of course I want what is best for Hef....but I wish that didn't involve an open chequebook and a serious pounding on Mummy's coping skills.
Sheesh.

The Big Easy

Some day are diamonds. Your schedule comes together effortlessly. Like yesterday, for want of an example. Our 24 week check up with Dr J. My Dr's office is located within a modern, bright Private Hospital that has a luscious cafeteria, tasteful decoration & well heeled inhabitants. I often wonder if anyone is ever sick or in pain within the corridors? The softly lit suites hardly seem capable of harbouring suffering.
The car park, however is impossible. FULL of pain & suffering! Often, several repeat loops must be navigated before locating a spot. Not good for the nerves if you are already running late. But yesterday we cruised under the boom gate, sailed into into a prime parking spot and promptly high fived each other. It's the little things you see, that incite glee for P & I! We headed straight for Pathology to take my Gestational Diabetes screening test and bingo!..the waiting room was empty! I downed my glucose drink with abandon. It was sweet, chilled & surprisingly pleasant. The lab technician set a stopwatch and told us to come back in 1 hour for the blood test. We headed upstairs to Dr J's rooms with minutes to spare. I thought of the many, many times I'd been within this clinic. Over the years, seemingly the only flat bellied, barren girl amongst a smattering of gestating queens & their bored husbands. There is nothing more heart sore than an infertile in a Ob/Gyn waiting room. I felt an air of melancholy within me....even as I balanced a magazine on my expanding belly. It's hard to believe that we're there because I'm pregnant & not because Plan F, G & H failed. The appointment goes well. My belly is measured, cervix is confirmed long, Hef's heartbeat dances around our ears. My husband looks glassy eyed. I feel a little bashful, being pantless & wandmonkeyed in his full view. Just as things were wrapping up, a brisk knock at the door was followed by his assistant's voice "You are needed in the Labour Ward" she says, panic free. Dr J points to the tissues & calmly announces "Everything is looking wonderful! Now, I'd better go...take your time dressing, let yourselves out and see you in a fortnight" My husband urged him on his way, much like sending a warrior into battle! Exiting I did feel a tad sorry for the waiting patients. Who knew how long they'd be there for...waiting for Dr J to return from this delivery? Why did I feel so smug that our appointment had not been delayed? We got lucky. Back at pathology, the stopwatch was counting down 33 seconds....32...31. Perfect timing! Blood was drawn, lunch was bought & to top everything off....we were under the free parking quota by milliseconds. Shizzah!
Ah, yes. Some days are Diamonds!

Optional belly shot below if you are still inclined.

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Boo.

My Tribute to.....Mylanta

My innards growl all night and day,
Intestines...bowel in disarray.

Belching acid on the hour,
...regretting what I did devour.
Indigestion! Oh so dire!
My Oesophagus! It burns like fire!
MYLANTA! ....mystic tummy fixer,
Chalky white, supreme elixir.

How I crave your offensive taste,

Spoonfuls gulped with messy haste.

You alleviate the torment well,

And rescue me from heartburn hell.

My trusty friend.... all bottled blue,

Sweet reflux slayer...I heart you.

Wishy Washer

On the weekend I fulfilled a lifelong fantasy.
I washed baby clothes & hung them out to dry.
Mundane?
No. Thrilling!

I rarely have those daydreams where I am actually holding, rocking or bathing a Baby. I still can't picture myself with a wee one.

But strangely I do daydream about buying baby items in aisle 5, chatting to my kid...and hanging out tiny singlets to dry.

Baby clothes are sooo darling. Ridiculously small. Needy. They barely warrant a peg on the clothes line. But standing in my backyard, admiring those little garments flapping, I thought my heart should surely burst.

And folding baby clothes to put away in minuscule drawers is almost as intoxicating.
Sigh. 23 weeks today.

Bend & Stretch..

At last, I agree with a topic written about in my "Pregnancy For Imbeciles" book. Pregnancy makes you clumsy. I have indeed, morphed into a doofus-y klutz. Daily I drop things, I smash things, I tip cups over, spill lunch, fumble, trip over my shadow...you get the idea. Apparently the joints in your hands become relaxed & you don't grip things as tight as you normally would. It is quite bizarre. I am also on stretch mark alert. So far, I have not a one. But each morning & feel a little tighter, a little itchier & know it would be unusual to escape without getting the buggers. I haven't been doing "The Dance of 1000 Creams" (thanks Pat) I guess I am happy enough to leave it up to fate.
I feel Hef every now & then. I wish there was a little more activity. The movements are subtle, enough to captivate me & then leave me desperate for more. "Hello Baby" I say & touch my belly. I stayed at my brothers house through the week, my 6 month old niece woke several times through the night. I lay listening to my SIL soothe her & warm a bottle in the pitch black kitchen. I was thinking "that will be me soon".....and in agreeance, Hef gave a little kick. Just you wait.

Let Me Entertain You..

...Ha! Well, I can't argue with that.
The Centre of Attention is one of my favourite places.

Looky!

Wow! What an achievement! Ova Girl has always been one of my favourites. I feel so proud of her. Congrats Lady! Your talent & humour has made my journey easier. I can't wait to grab my copy....