blogoversary

I've had friends round this evening and there has been much quaffing of Pimms so my blogoversay post will be just this picture of cake.

ghost in the machine

I think my media player has intelligence. This is what it decided to throw up via random play this morning as I was re-reading my recent posts and the wonderful comments from you all in the blogosphere. First and then, and finally

Okay, I admit that the last one doesn't really have that much to do with the price of fish but damn, that song (and video) makes me smile!

a different sort of biological clock

I have mentioned before (ad nauseum?) that I have a Gippy Tummy which can hold me hostage indoors for whole days at worst and make me an hour late for work at best. Well yesterday I had my annual appraisal with the Neonate (general manager who is one of my line managers).

At first it went well; I had achieved everything set out during my last appraisal plus some other things. We set down a few plans for things for me to achieve in the next couple of months (year-long objectives being out of the question for reasons that deserve their own post) and had a gentle discussion about general morale in the department. And then, just as we were about to wrap up, the Neonate mentioned my time off sick this year. I am the first to admit that I have had rather a lot but in my defence during the days I have to stay within dashing distance of the loo I do 8 hours of work from home. And the days I don't get to work until 9.00 I stay until past 6.00. Anyway, the Neonate told me that if I had any more time off sick this year, she would have to review the situation and consider whether I was "in the most suitable job for my physical condition".

I went away from that meeting with somewhat elevated stress levels and a sense of urgency to kick my GI upset into touch right now this minute...

This evening I finally had an appointment with a gastroenterologist who confirmed that I am indeed in the grip of a particularly long and distressing bout of Gippy Tummy (although he, not being a seven-year-old, called it IBS). Among other things, he told me to Calm Down and Give It Time.

Obviously, I have no choice but to stop stressing and let my insides settle down at their own pace. I just wish that pace was really, really fast :-)

huh

I think, dear Interwebs, that I may be a little bit depressed (pause while you roll your eyes and mutter "no sh1t, Sherlock").

Thank you all for your comments on my last post. They made me ask myself some questions and then, the next day at our Rel@te appointment, I took the depression score the therapist had given Significant Other several weeks before. (She asked me to do it at the time but I didn't feel the need). Anyway, it came out at "moderate depression". I didn't believe it and took it again at home - same score. I then took an online test, this time a different one but the result was the same: moderate depression.

I then spent a couple of days denying it (but it is Significant Other who is depressed, not I!), panicking (but I need to look after Significant Other, how can I do that if I'm depressed!), and being plain idiotic (but why am I depressed!). Then finally over the weekend I realised that yes, I am currently a little bit off-kilter.

My next task is to do something about it.

head vs heart

A friend of mine (child-free by choice) recently told me that just because I don't have children doesn't make my life invalid.

I know that, of course. Or at least I know that in my head.

But with Significant Other still on the fence about whether or not I am worth staying with if we can't have children - well I'm not exactly overflowing with self-esteem at the moment.

In my head I know that I am more than just the sum of my lady-parts.

But in my heart? I feel pointless.

the things people say

CGD recently wrote this post about the varying reactions from her friends to the sad loss of her baby boy and it got me to thinking about some of the slightly more puzzling responses I got after my own losses.

After we lost Starchild one work friend tried to comfort me by telling me that "it wasn't a baby" (I still wonder how he would have felt if I had said that to him had he lost his son at almost 13 weeks). Another woman at work told me that I wouldn't have miscarried if I had only had acupuncture all the way through the first trimester.

After we lost Bean (at almost 18 weeks) yet another work colleague told me that I should take comfort in the knowledge that at least I could get pregnant. Apparently Significant Other's and my mistake was wanting more than that...

But I think that the worst, the very worst response of all came from one of my closest and dearest friends in the world, Marathon Man. I sent an email the day I was discharged from the hospital after losing Bean in February (2009) and his response was "I'm really sorry". Which he sent in May after 3 months of silence.

Updated to add:
I wrote the above a few hours ago because I was feeling somewhat sorry for myself this afternoon. I want to make it clear, though, that mostly IRL we have been met with a lot of sympathy, and some awkwardness and here in blogland I've had nothing but wonderful sympathy, empathy and support, for which I am truly grateful.

And - BFG, I also want to make it clear that I am not aiming any of this at you.

proud of me

Today I did something I'm proud of: I kept it together.

A colleague came to my office and told me about his wife having her 20-week, anatomy scan on Friday. It all went well, the baby is a boy, his 2-year-old daughter is beside herself at being a big sister to a baby brother, he can't wait to have a son, here, Illanare, look at the scan photo.

And I did. And I exclaimed over it, congratulated him, asked all the right questions in a bright and interested voice, smiled and nodded at the answers and when he left I took a deep breath, turned back to my desk and carried on working.

For the first time since we lost Starchild, I had an other-people's-baby conversation and didn't have to run to the loo at the end of it and cry my eyes out. I held my sh1t together.

It won't seem like much in the fertile, non-loss world, but I am proud of me.