puthandu vazthukal

That's "happy new year" in Tamil.

I hope that 2011 brings you all peace and happiness.

yuletide

In the words of one of my favourite Christmas songs:

I wish you a hopeful Christmas
I wish you a brave New Year
All anguish, pain and sadness
Leave your heart and let your road be clear


(This is my favourite Christmas song though).

The candle I lit for my Little Stars this evening is also lit for Starchild, Bean, Snowflake, Eurydice and siblings, Baby Hurricane, Thomas and his siblings, lost ones and their grandfather and sadly so many more.

Wishing you all a peaceful Christmas.

because I can't say this out loud

Dear IRL friend,

I live in your world.  

I rejoiced for you when you met your wife and found yourself stepping in to a ready-made family.  I celebrated with you when your wife got pregnant with your biological child.  I read and replied your emails during your wait for fatherhood, I admired photos of your baby in utero and from across the miles I held your hand as you worried about whether you were really ready to be a parent.

I bought and sent gifts when your daughter was born, for her christening, for her first birthday.  I admired more photos, I asked the right questions, I responded to your letters which were all about your daughter and your step children in kind. 

I forgave you when you didn't write after I lost my precious Starchild, my darling Bean, my tiny Little Stars.

I live in your world.

I am struggling to adapt to a childless life.  I see pregnant women, parents, children, grandparents everywhere.  I concede summer and Christmas holidays to my colleagues who have children.  I cover for them when they need to take time off for plays and concerts and sports days and measles and tummy upsets.  My taxes help to pay for maternity leave and child support and free school meals.

I live in your world.  

I listen when people tell me I should just adopt or just relax or that some people just aren't meant to have children.  I laugh like it's funny when people tell me I can "have my kids for a day if you want, that'll change your mind", I agree I am so lucky I have more disposable income and that I can lie in bed on Sunday mornings and I can drink wine every night.  That I should get over it and move on.



I live in your world.

I remember your birthday, your wife's birthday, your stepchildren's birthdays, your daughter's birthday, your wedding anniversary.  I don't expect you to remember my exact loss dates or know my unfulfilled due dates, why should you?  They are just random days to you and I understand that.


But I wish that just this once, just this time, you had remembered that I lost my babies on Christmas Eve and you didn't send me a festive card made up of photos of your children. 

a year ago

A year ago today I was pregnant.

A year ago tomorrow I learnt my HcG levels were dropping.

A year ago on Friday I started to miscarry our Little Stars.

A year ago I still thought that this Christmas would see us as parents.

It was only a year ago.

But it was also a lifetime ago.

loss

If you have time, please go and give Elizabeth some love.

bittersweet

One day while pregnant with Bean I fainted at work and was tended to by Dr Lovely.  She asked me if I was pregnant while she took my blood pressure and when I said "yes" I saw something in her eyes I recognised - pain and envy.  A few weeks after Bean died a group of us went out for an evening and Dr Lovely and I found ourselves at one end of the table, tipsy and talkative.  She told me about the struggles she and her husband had had, how there was no chance of them conceiving without medical intervention, how none of their first cycle embryos had made it to blasts and how they were going to be sinking everything they had into a cycle done at a famous American facility.

Last November Dr Lovely had her embryos transferred two days after I did.  I lost my Little Stars on Christmas Eve, hers stayed for just one more week.  We had cycled together, hoped together, tentatively rejoiced together and then mourned together.

Today I had a gentle email from Dr Lovely who is currently working in Africa.  They had a last ditch, 4th IVF at the famous American facility and she is now almost out of the first trimester.  I am genuinely happy for her and rejoiced that her heartbreaking journey is finally heading in a wonderful direction and could send a sincerely joyful email back.  But if she had been in front of me she too would have seen something in my eyes that she recognised.

stunned

On Tuesday evening I nodded goodbye to Mad Secretary as she stomped off into the icy cold night, wrapped up warm from her sensible boots to a very dashing hat.

Yesterday JJ stopped by my office to say that Mad Secretary hadn't come in and wasn't picking up either of her phones.  We rang the agency (Mad Secretary is a temp) who hadn't heard from her and they tried ringing her ICE number to no avail.  JJ and I fretted for the rest of the day, with JJ intermittently trying Mad Secretary's phones.  We ran through possible scenarios: Mad Secretary went to visit her daughter in one of the Home Counties and got snowed in (best case), she slipped and fell on the ice on the way to work and was taken to her local A&E (JJ's worst case), she fell in the bath and broke her hip (my worst case - she is 71).

This morning the department PA came to my office and told me about the scenario we hadn't imagined.  That Mad Secretary had had a massive heart attack sometime either Tuesday night or Wednesday and had died instantly.  I know it's true.  We all know that it is true.  It's just impossible to believe.

Brrr and Grrr

It is quite fresh out here in England at the moment.  Today London, compared to the rest of the country, was a balmy 1 degree (Celcius) and by the time I had walked to the Lovely Therapist's office this evening I couldn't feel my feet.  It's cold for the time of year and it's cold for central London.  It is no kind of weather to be standing still outdoors.

I am labouring this point of how freaking cold it is so that I can share this story.  I got to the Georgian building which houses, among others, the Lovely Therapist's office and standing outside were a couple with a pair of not more than 2-month old twins.  Mum and Dad each had a baby in one of those B@byBjorn carriers and they were leaning against the railings chatting while Dad finished off a cigarette.  He threw away the stub just as I got to the steps and Mum pushed past me to get inside saying "got to get these mites in the warm".

I hated them both so much.

Anyway.  Today is World AIDS Day. 

m.i.a...

...my blogging and commenting mojo, that is.

I've been a bad blogger lately and a terrible commenter (although I do try to leave a pebble when I don't have words - thank you, Miss Ruby!).  Truth be told I seem to have misplaced my zest for life in general recently.  I hope I can get it back soon but in the meantime I'm still interested in what is going on in all your worlds :-)

the importance of names

I have been thinking about writing this post for weeks now but (for reasons I find very difficult to explain) I have felt shy of doing so.  But then I was encouraged by two awesome women (from here and here) so have found the courage.

Doing a very quick search on the world's premier online market place (UK site) I found that there are at least 1,265 books of baby names.  You can get books of "unusual" names, Armenian names, Gaelic names, saints' names.  You can get bumper books, little books, greatest books, modern books.  But mostly you get the idea -  the naming of children is a very important matter.

A and I never knew Starchild's gender but I believed at the time and later (when pregnant with Bean) was convinced that he was a boy.  So in our hearts we gave our son a name: Zachary Joseph MySurname.

We found out for sure that Bean was a girl only after she had died (we hadn't wanted to know at  my 12-week scan).  Her name is Matilda Tui MySurname.

We never got that far with our Little Stars so they will always have to remain nameless.

Zachary Joseph, Matilda Tui, Little Stars.  "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be."

in the paper today

From The Guardi@n today: The lonely pain of miscarriage.  A heartfelt and open story (though some of the comments are heartless and unthinking).

four candles

I think we all know that this ALI community we are part of is amazing.  I know that we all support and find support here.  I know that I have "met" some wonderful women and I know that I would not have made it through so much of these past 12 months without you all.

I know all of these things but I was still amazed and moved beyond words when I got an email to tell me about this.

These are for my babies.

Jenn - thank you.  It means more than I can say.

punched

This afternoon A was doing a back-up of all our photos and videos, clicking on the odd one now and then as he went.  Before I could stop him, he clicked open an untitled video he took of me in early April 2008 at the top of the Sk.y T0wer in Auckl@nd.  It's quite an ordinary video, I'm just walking on the glass floor and staring down.  But it's the commentary.  A is talking to Starchild-in-the-future, saying "there's mummy, isn't she pretty?"

It punched us both in the stomach.

versatile

The awesome InBetween gave me this award (thank you so much!):

The rules are simple - link back to the person who gave you the award, write down seven things about yourself and pass along the award to seven bloggers you enjoy reading.

So, seven things about me.

1. I hate shoe-shopping.  Hate it.  Apart from my C0nverse All-St@rs, I have 3 pairs of shoes (2x flat black pumps, 1x flat red pumps).  But I love boots.  I have 9 pairs (not including walking boots) and am always on the look-out for more.  Hmmm...boots...
2. I think I am addicted to diet c0ke.  I drink at least 2 cans a day, often more. It was harder for me to give it up when I was pregnant / in the 2ww than it was for me to give up coffee or alcohol.
3. The last time I wore make-up was in 2006 for my cousin's wedding, and I had to buy it all new then because the time before that was 1995 when I was a bridesmaid at the wedding of my BFF.
4. Misuse of apostrophes make me cross, which I know is snooty and unreasonable but still. It makes me cross!
5. I am very forgetful, if I don't write it down then it may as well not have happened.  My friend Too tells me that makes me a good person to borrow money from.  She may be right, I have no memory of ever having lent her any...
6. I also have no sense of direction.  I once got lost on a straight road (seriously).
7. I love sparkly things.

And now to pass on to fellow bloggers.  This award has been going around a lot lately so I apologise if you have already been nominated:
Alex at Alex's Adventures
Jen at Life in Our 40s
B at non geordie mum
Ruby at The Miss Ruby
CGD at Adventures in Infertility Land

(I know that doesn't make seven!)

different world

I sometimes (*cough*) think about What Might Have Been.  I wonder what our life would be like if I hadn't lost Starchild and he (we didn't know if Starchild was a boy but I was convinced) was going to celebrate his 2nd birthday next month.

Or what our life would be like if we hadn't lost Bean and we had a 15-month old daughter lighting up our days.

Or what if we hadn't lost both our Little Stars in December and we would be currently sleep-deprived and ankle deep in the nappies.

I've fallen a bit in love with the many worlds theory lately because it says that somewhere there are universes where all of those things are real.

October 15th

www.october15th.com

Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope

Today (and every day) I remember Starchild (lost 28th April 2008), Bean (lost 6th February 2009) and Little Stars (lost 24th December 2009).  I love you, my babies, and I miss you every moment.

in which I fail to find my big-girl pants

I am having a bit of a mini meltdown.  It's not pretty, feel free to click away and come back when I have grown a pair.

1.  We have damp.  I was making up the spare bed this evening, for my mother to spend the night in tomorrow and found small spots of damp in one corner of the mattress.  There are also spots of damp on A's and my bedroom ceiling.  I am going to have to Get A Man In and, even though it may all turn out fine, at the moment I am being very Eyeore and trying to figure out how the frack I am going to pay for a damp course.  Two years ago I had to have a new boiler installed, 18 months ago I had to have double glazing put in and then my half of the cost of the fertility treatments wiped out what was left of my savings.

2. My dad is having surgery on his retina tomorrow.  Again, I am sure he will be fine, it's a routine operation and he should, all being well, only have to stay in hospital until Tuesday.  But he is 70 years old and not in the best of health, and will be having a general.

3. Work is awful at the moment, so much so that for the past month I have found my footsteps slowing the closer I get to the hospital.  A couple of days ago I had to shut myself in my office on arrival because I was in tears at the thought of facing another day there.

4. I am really, really tired.  Tired of worrying about things, tired of wondering how to afford to pay to fix the next problem. Tired of the huge, gaping void in my life and heart that hurts with almost each breath I take. Tired of pretending that everything is fine, tired of pretending that I am fine.

5. I am not fine.

my day as a Western

The G00d -getting tickets for this as part of a surprise birthday "do" for a friend later this month.

The Bad - guzzling not one but two ch@i lattes today.  I don't even want to think about how many calories that was.

The Ugly - I was in my friend JJ's office when Mad Secretary came in, stood at the fax machine, let rip the most gigantic f@rt, smiled and nodded at us and walked back to her own office.  !!?!?!??!??!!!

knee-jerk

Back in the dim and distant past, before miscarriage and loss overwhelmed me, I was considered by all who knew me to be a "tree-hugging leftie".  By that they meant that even my worst enemy could not call me judgemental.

Not so much now, although thankfully still only to myself.  And you, dear interwebs.

Yesterday, on my journey to the dentist, I saw this young girl, couldn't have been more than twenty years old, pushing a pram with a maybe 2-year-old in it.  The young girl was also visibly pregnant, and smoking a cigarette.  Walking with his arm around her was her, I presume, partner who was smoking what I know was NOT a cigarette.  I swear my anger and hatred and judgementalness (what? It's a word) was coming off me in toxic waves.

Eighteen hours later I think that it still is.

Q&A

Over the past few weeks, I have been asked a couple of questions in comments, to which I haven't replied.  So:

Mummy in Waiting, Tireegal and Noelle asked about my job.  I am a research assist@nt at a large London teaching hospital.  We research all manner of stuff but my area is communicable disease.  I'm not a boffin, though, the science bit - the hows and whys - is done by the medical and lab staff.  I contribute the "who" by getting patient consent, looking at notes and lab results, talking to patients (my favourite bit) and then entering all the data onto a database for the boffins to analyse.

Tireegal also asked if Illanare is my real name.  Oh I wish that is were, I think it is so pretty!  But no, it is said by some to be a very ancient name for Sri L@nka (from whence I came).

And Circus Princess, in response to this post, asked if A wasn't making a lot of the decisions for our lives.  And she is right, he is.  Well, it seems to me that he makes the major ones like stopping TTC, no chance of looking in to adoption, living together but never getting married, moving to NZ in a few years time.  And I have let him.  Because I can't get knocked up without him (and a cast of hundreds, of course).  And I can't frog-march him down the aisle, nor can I adopt a child without at least his knowledge.  But what I can do is regain control of my own life.  I just need to marshall up what forces I have left after the battles of the last few years and march onwards.

day 30: a dream for the future

Regular readers will know that my hopes for the future have undergone a major (and traumatic) overhaul in the past year.  I have had to let go of my dreams of motherhood and as yet I have not been able to replace them.
So for now, my dream for the immediate future is to find a new dream.

day 29: hopes, dreams and plans for the next 365 days

I hope:
that my father's eyesight doesn't deteriorate and if he does have to have surgery on his retina, it all goes well
that A can come off the anti-depressants and not plunge back into the pit of despair he was in before
that my darling cousin Billie's broken heart heals
that I can start to look more than a few days ahead in my own life and not start to panic and feel like I am drowning

I dream:
that I can find a more local job

I plan:
to start my (part-time) Masters' degree next September

the M@ry P0ppins handbag

Some of you asked to see a photo...:

And yes, my darling little cat does fit in it, as she very cutely proved on the day I bought it.

day 28: what is in my handbag

This will take some time, I like to be prepared for all eventualities.
1 NHS lanyard to which is attached my photo ID, swipe card and 2GB memory stick
1 set of office keys
1 set of house keys
1 diary
1 notebook
2 hankies
1 mobile phone
1 0yster card
1 tube of tiger b@lm
1 mini torch
1 fold away to nothing nylon shopping bag
1 roll-on bags-under-eyes reducer
3 pens
1 pencil
1 book
1 umbrella
1 digital camera
1 MP3 player and ear-buds
1 purse
1 little green make-up bag containing spare contact lenses, 4 hair grips, a tube of lip balm, my brand new, super-dooper migraine meds
1 plastic bag containing a spare pair of clean knickers, 1 tampon and 1 sanitary towel (today is CD204 - any day now, right...?)
1 box of spearmint Tic T@cs
1 hair band
1 inexplicable pen lid
1 kitchen sink and a lost tribe of Inca...

day 27: my worst habit

I think that this would depend upon who you ask. 
A would say it is twirling my hair; I do it all the time (especially when I am stressed) and it seriously irritates him.
My mother would say it's procrastination, although to be fair I have now elevated that more to an art form than a habit.  Especially when it comes to the ironing.  Or cleaning the oven.
Me, I think my worst habit is moping.  Of late I have become a champion moper.  I feel I should be heading out to Delhi right now to mope for England in the C0mmonwealth Games.

day 26: the week in detail

It wasn't a good week really.  It started with me in floods of tears on Monday morning, not wanting to get out of bed and go to work.  (Work is AWFUL at the moment).  I kept crying over and over again on Monday and Tuesday, for no discernible reason.

Monday was also the day the patient with...problems...came in very late in the day when almost everyone had already gone.  She kicked off in the clinic, became abusive and violent and it took four of us to make sure she left the building (we don't have security guards), which she was very reluctant to do.  She only left when we threatened to call the police, but not before she lit up a cigarette, called one of my friends an f*****g transvestite (!!!) and told us all to "watch our backs" because she knows where we work.

Tuesday evening A and I went to our session with Lovely Therapist.  For the past 5 months, I have mostly let these sessions be All About A but this week - I don't know, I think I was sad and angry and frustrated and verbose. So that was good.  I think.

Wednesday was better because I went with some friends to see Sing@long Gre@se, which was just so much fun.  I went home still humming those catchy tunes and smiling.  Thursday and Friday were long days, having to get to work by 7.30am.  Yesterday I was in bed the whole day with a migraine (which are getting old now...) and today I have done laundry, vacuuming, ironing, cooking and washing up.  I know - the glamour, eh? :-)

day 25: day in great detail

As I have spent today in bed with yet another migraine, I'm cheating again.  Here is yesterday in great detail.
05.30:  woken by my furry alarm clock's gentle tap, tap, tap on my head and a less gentle "meow" in my ear - stagger to kitchen, shake out some cat biscuits, stagger back to bed.
06.00:  my other alarm clock shrilly galvanises me from bed and into the shower before my eyes fully open.  Dress, gulp coffee, feed my darling little cat, glare enviously at A's oblivious and still sleeping form and then at
06.35:  creep out of the flat into a breathtakingly chilly morning and trot down the hill to the bus-stop
06.45:  climb onto bus, plug in my MP3 player and zone out until
07.30:  get off bus and walk to the hospital, stopping on the way for coffee
07.40:  arrive at my desk, boot up the computer, check very important emails lolcats 
07.55:  gather papers and notebook and go to meeting number 1
09.00:  dash back to my office for meeting number 2
09.50:  two cups of coffee are making their presence felt and I am silently begging my colleague to stop talking so I can go to the loo before
10.00:  meeting number 3 which is dull with a capital Boring.
10.30:  hooray! Meeting over
10.31:  time to make another cup of coffee
10.35:  type up minutes of meeting number 1
11.15:  consider stealing a biscuit from the lab staff, remind myself stealing is wrong
11.17:  steal chocolate digestive
12.00:  go to evidence based medicine session
14.00:  evidence based medicine session finishes, there is an ugly rush to the sandwich shop opposite
14.10:  eat sandwich at my desk while making pie-charts in Ex£l for Dr Beardie
14.30:  data collection for a research study which involves going through 125 sets of patient notes.  There are a lot of data points and I have only done 3 sets of notes by
15.15:  go over to the lab to see if any patients have been diagnosed with another condition we are currently researching in the last 24 hours.  One has but they don't fulfil the inclusion criteria.
15.30:  back to data collection
16.45:  can I go home yet?
17.15:  water plants, shut down computer, wash up coffee mug and cafetiere, leave the hospital
17.30:  sitting in a pastry shop with a cup of tea and a chocolate eclair, chatting to a friend I haven't seen in months
18.30:  friend decides we should decamp to the pub next door for some chips
18.35:  we agree that the perfect complement to a bowl of chips is a G&T
20.00:  friend realises that she has 20 minutes to cross London to get her train back to the Home County in which she lives
20.10:  I am on the bus home, watching Young People in inappropriately skimpy clothes queue to get into clubs and pubs to start their evening
21.20:  A, who has been out for a work thing, and I arrive home within moments of each other to an extremely hungry and vocal cat
21.24:  A and I are sharing a bowl of honey roasted cashew nuts and watching tv
22.00:  time for the interwebs - Scr@bble is down!! 
23.00:  Goodnight!

day 24: where I live

I live in a hilly, leafy, north London suburb which is mainly Edwardian in feel, although there are much earlier - and much later buildings as well.  We live in a flat in an Art Deco block although sadly a lot of the original features have been lost in the intervening years.

The suburb is about 6 miles from Ch@ring Cr0ss (the centre of London) and it has parkland at one end and woodland at the other.  We also have, among other things, three coffee shops, four patisseries, a fishmonger's, a florist, a cheese shop, two bookshops and an old-fashioned grocer's which has been in the same place and run by the same family since 1897.

I love it here and I am so glad I sank every penny I had (and more I still don't) to buy this flat 12 years ago because I certainly wouldn't be able to afford it now!

Our street in the snow

day 23: a y0utube video

I love this, I think it's adorable:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z3U0udLH974&feature=related

day 22: the internetz

This is the day for posting my favourite website. This is predictable but I don't care, Ai lubs it:
http://icanhascheezburger.com/

day 21: a recipe

This is difficult because I seldom measure ingredients and I often cheat. But this is my variation on a traditional Sri L@nkan Th@kkali Isso (prawn and tomato curry) - I hate tomatoes so I substitute them with cashew nuts. And, although my Ammama (grandmother) would be shocked if she had known - I don't use fresh prawns but frozen (I hate de-veining them!) So really it's nothing like a Th@kkali Isso at all...

Anyway. Illanare's Prawn and Cashew Nut Curry

16oz (450 grammes) frozen but defrosted (or fresh for the non-squeamish) prawns
1 red onion
1 garlic clove
1 curry leaf
1 - 2 red chillies, de-seeded and finely chopped
3.5 fluid oz (100 millilitres / 3.3 fluid oz US) coconut milk
8oz (250 grammes) cashew nuts
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon paprika
1 teaspoon curry powder*

Heat 2 tablespoons of olive or vegetable oil in a large, flat-bottomed pan.
Finely chop the red onion and peel and crush the garlic and add to pan with the whole curry leaf.
Fry gently until the onion begins to soften.
Add the curry powder, paprika and turmeric and stir.
Add the prawns and mix well.
After a couple of minutes if using frozen prawns, or 5 minutes if using fresh, add the cashew nuts. Stir together then reduce the heat to just above a simmer.
Add the coconut milk and stir together well.
Simmer gently for 10 minutes then serve immediately (I like to use lemon rice to go with this curry).

*I usually make my own curry powder - it's pretty easy:
2 teaspoons coriander seeds
1 teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon fennel seeds
1/4 teaspoon mustard seeds
Crush together in a pestle and mortar - job done!

day 20: a hobby

Why, this blog of course :-)

day 19: a talent

I'm not really very talented. No, not being falsely modest or doing myself down here, I'm not. I am a passable cook, quite handy at DIY, rather good at Scr@bble and very good at my job - but I'm otherwise not especially talented.

I do, however, like making my own Christmas cards and I think that they come out ok.

day 18: my wedding

I've never had a wedding and, as A would rather gouge out his own eyes with a blunt spoon than get married, I'm never likely to.

day 17: a piece of art

Deg@s' Little D@ncer. I've loved this piece since I was about 6 and taking ballet lessons - I wanted to look just like her!

day 16: a song that makes me cry

I have three songs that make me cry. They are all associated with different times or events, and I couldn't decide on one in particular. So here they all are:

"She G0es On" by Cr0wded H0use.
This belongs to my BFF Kay. She was in her final illness and her husband (Marathon Man) and I were at her bedside. Kay suddenly asked Marathon Man to sing this song to her, which he did. She said that it would always remind her of an afternoon only a couple of months previously when the three of us were sunning ourselves in their back garden, Marathon Man absorbed in the sports section of the Saturday Gu@rdian while Kay and I were working on the short story we were writing together. When Kay died, this song was the one Marathon Man chose to play at the start of her funeral. It was years before I could listen to it again.

"Lean 0n Me" by Beth Ort0n.
After Kay died Marathon Man and I became very close friends. We would talk to or email each other every couple of days and would spend weekends together several times a year. The weekends were invariably fuelled by wine and music and each night lasted into the small hours of the following morning. One of those Saturday-night-Sunday-mornings was played to a close by Marathon Man picking "Lean on Me". As he lined up the track he said that the song always brought me to his mind because he had leant on me since Kay died, and that he "genuinely believed" that I saved his life in those early dark and despairing months.

"Fix Y0u" by C0ldplay.
I played this over and over and over again in the days after losing Starchild, just for the lines "and the tears come streaming down your face, when you lose something you can't replace".
It is made worse because I can't stand this band or the constipated-piglet vocal stylings of the lead singer and I hate that they are the ones responsible for this song!

day 15: my dream house

You can barely make it out in this photo - this was taken in 1997, almost a decade before I got my first digital camera with optical zoom. But that white building in the distance is my dream house. It is on the Maine coast, at a heavenly town called B00thb@y H@rb0ur. It's perched on the rocks with the sea on three sides and I fell in love with it instantly.

Although I loved B00thb@y H@rb0ur, I have since then seen even more beautiful places where I have day-dreamed of living but always in this house...

day 14: a non-fiction book

"The R0ses of No M@n's Land" by Lyn MacDonald. I read this first in 1989 and I remember being so absorbed in it that I missed my Tube stop and found myself at the end of the line. I had to put the book away for the return journey so that I didn't spend the entire evening travelling the District Line from one end to the other.

It's an amazing, vivid, moving, wrenching report of keeping soldiers alive on the front line during the First World War. It makes you feel uncomfortably like you are at a field hospital in Flanders or France as you read it.

30 day journal day 13: a fictional book

I'm not sure how today's item differs from day 4 (your favourite book) so I have decided to take the Desert Isl@nd Discs approach and choose the one I would get most out of for the greatest length of time. It has to be the complete novels of J@ne Auste.n.

30 day journal day 12: sleeping with the enemy

Something I am OCD about: the kitchen worktop. Everything has to be lined up in the right order and perfectly. L-R fruit bowl, spice rack, kettle (with spout pointing towards the door), toaster (unplugged and cord tucked neatly away), food processor (handle pointing towards the window).

Any deviation, even slight, completely messes with my day...

happiness today, hope tomorrow

A month ago the wonderful Miss Ruby gave me this award.


Here in her own words are the reasons:
infertility (and many other things in life) makes you focus on the future your desire is for a future event even if you manage to get knocked up or get a successful adoption placement it's still a future event and so we're constantly looking forward looking to the future and focussing on happiness we may achieve then but what about the now? what about what is making us happy in this moment in this very instance?

I hadn't been able to pass it along until now, because I just hadn't been feeling much happiness or hope. But both of those are slowly changing and now feels like the right time.

The rules are easy - you put that picture up on your blog and you post about one thing you're happy about right now and one thing that you are hoping for in the future. And then you pass the award along.

Right now, I am happy that I am (albeit agonisingly slowly) finally losing weight because I am eating healthier and exercising more, and feeling happier so I am eating healthier and exercising more and losing weight and...well you get the gist.

And my hope for the future? I can't believe that I am not going to write "a healthy baby" - because I have finally acknowledged that my life is never going to include that. I'm not saying I'm happy about it, but I have stopped fighting it. So my hope for the future is a happy one with A.

I would like to pass this along to:
Jen @ Life in our 40s - Ups and Downs
Betty Rubble @ The Fork (Knife and Spoon) in the Road
CGD @ Adventures in Infertility-Land

30 day journal days 10 and 11

Another blinding migraine yesterday meant that I skipped a day, so lucky interwebs you get two posts for the price of one today.

Day 10: a photo of you taken over 10 years ago.
This was taken on Christmas Day 1976, I was aged 8 and had been given that doll by my my parents. Even then I wanted a baby...


Day 11: a photo of you taken recently.
This was taken 3 months ago. I know, I'm cheating - but this is an anonymous blog :-)

30 day journal day 9: a photo I took

This was taken 10 years ago with my old 35mm and recently scanned in, so apols for the poor quality. But it represents a life-long dream realised.

30 day blog journal: day 8

I'm at home sick today, coughing up bits of lung (re-vol-ting) and I can't watch tv because A is working from home in the living room (tube strike avoidance) and I'm bored.

So, after a month's hiatus, I thought I would resume the 30-day blog journal meme which I paused abruptly after day 7.
Day 8 - a photo that makes me sad. Well, it had to be really. Ironically it is a photo taken on the happiest day of A's and my lives - the morning we found out I was pregnant with Starchild.

ah memories...

Two and a half years spent either taking meds or being pregnant made me forget what my life was really like. Today is CD182...

earthquake

My Not-In-Laws live on a farm on the outskirts of the NZ city which was hit by an earthquake less than 24 hours ago. We have been able to speak to them because they have an old-style phone and they are okay but without electrity, heat and water. There was minimal damage to their house and Not FIL says that the land seems fine. They have been given drinking water by a neighbouring farmer and have been using their bbq to cook meals but they are cold (it's winter down under).

I wish that we could just magic them here and look after them!

words

I saw this on B's blog and thought I would try it.

This is mine:
You can do your own here.

fellow feeling

I have never been a Tory supporter or a big fan of W1ll1am Hagu£

But, regardless of whatever he may or may not be hiding in regard to his sexuality, you have to admire his courage on speaking out about his wife's and his IF and loss.

everywhere

From the barista at my local coffee shop to the receptionist at work (22, unplanned) via one of the nurses, it seems that everyone in my working day is pregnant.

I am so bitter and envious and raw and hurting that I don't recognise myself.

does anyone know...

...how C from Cats With Passports is doing? She hasn't updated in a couple of months...

days like these

Most of the time I potter along, doing okay. And then - bam! It all hits me all over again.

To be fair, today didn't come completely out of the blue, I've been teetering on the edge of a wobble since the weekend. Saturday went better than I expected (a post on that later) but it was a gathering where A and I were the only adults who weren't parents.

I have spent the days between then and now thinking about our losses.

I have a work colleague who regularly sends out forwarded emails (you know the kind). Usually she sends religious texts or prayers or miracle stories (all of which I find difficult being agnostic). This morning she sent a prayer which was illustrated by maybe 12 pictures of babies. Smiling, happy, healthy, living babies.

Three hours later I discovered another colleague is pregnant. No-one told me, she has just started to show.

And now I am undone. I miss my babies. I know that if Starchild had lived, I wouldn't have been pregnant with Bean. And if Bean had been born, I wouldn't have had my little stars inside me. But I miss my babies, all of them. I want to hold them and kiss them and feel their hearts beating and hear them laugh and watch them play and tell them how much I love them and how I will always love them.

I want my children back.

FB status - updated

You know all those "repost this if you are a mummy" status updates we see on In Yer Faceb00k? Well my cousin (mother of two living and one lost) posted this an hour ago.

This week we remember all babies born sleeping or who we have carried but never met and those we have held but could not take home. Make this your profile status if you or someone you know has suffered the loss of a precious baby. The majority won't do it, because unlike cancer, baby loss is still a taboo subject. Break the silence............... In memory of all our sleeping angels ♥ ♥

Updated: I hadn't re-posted this on my FB page - but I am just about to.

saturday

The day I have been dreading for months has dawned. I feel it is fitting that the skies are unsettled, it’s quite humid and the weather forecasters predicted heavy rain in the south-east.

For today is the day I will find myself in the company of Holier-Than-Thou, the wife of Marathon Man. She hates me. No, that’s unfair, she doesn’t hate me. Rather she regards me as you would a gnat at a summer picnic: insignificant and to be swatted away, but still annoyingly spoiling the perfect day.

When she first met me she viewed me with suspicion, and to be fair to her, I can understand why. Not only was I her new boyfriend’s closest female friend, I was also his late wife’s BFF. But I was just so glad that Marathon Man had found someone who made him happy after so many years of heartbreak, loneliness and despair and welcomed her with open arms.

Holier-Than-Thou didn’t really make a terribly good impression on most of Marathon Man’s inner circle when we met her for the first time, but we knew that afternoon must have been nerve-wracking for her, which led to a couple too many beers, which led to awkward behaviour.

The next time I met her was in New Y0rk when I was there with a friend. Again, Holier-Than-Thou was over-bearing and rude but this time I put it down to me being tired and not at my best. The next time was only a few weeks later when she and Marathon Man were fleetingly in London. We met for dinner with another member of the inner circle and Holier-Than-Thou’s greeting was “wow, Illanare, seems like wherever we go, there you are”.

For the life of me, I couldn’t spin that into something nice.

And then Marathon Man and Holier-Than-Thou’s wedding. It took place in New York State where they live and the BFG and I flew all the way over there for the occasion. It cost a lot of money and precious annual leave but, hey – I was glad to do it to see Marathon Man happy. Holier-Than-Thou spoke to me twice over those four days. Once to tell me that there wasn’t a spare seat in the station wagon for me and so would I please climb in through the tailgate and sit in the boot (trunk). The other time was to ask me to not take photos at the wedding reception (everyone else could, that was a request just for me).

Again, could not spin that into something nice.

And finally, the last time I was in her company was almost exactly 3 years ago. They were over in England, staying with Marathon Man’s brother who had organised a surprise party with dozens of friends in attendance. When Marathon Man finally had a chance to come and greet me (several hours in to the evening), he and I had enough time to clink our wine glasses together and say “hey you” before Holier-Than-Thou came up, took him by the arm and dragged him out to another room.

Even the BFG, a man notorious for seeing the good in people, thought that was a bit odd. “I don’t think she likes you,” he observed.

And why the name Holier-Than-Thou? Because at that very first meeting all those years ago, she announced to the assembled company that “unless you were a parent, you just wouldn’t get it”.

he said, she said

So on Saturday morning, almost a week since we broke up, A and I met to talk things through.

He told me that:
he had made a mistake
he had been to the GP and got anti-depressants and started them straight away
he loves me
he wanted to come home and hoped that I would forgive him for the hurt he had caused me and would take him back

I told him that:
things cannot go on the way that they had been
we need to make a lot of changes in our relationship and our lives
I felt strongly that we should each write down what we wanted to change about ourselves, each other and "us" - a "relationship charter" if you will
that he had indeed hurt me dreadfully
that there can be no more sword of Dam0cles - if he packs his bags again, he would not be able to unpack them here again.

And we are back together.

It feels...almost new. A is more loving and considerate of me than he has been since we lost Starchild. He is taking his antidepressants with hardly any complaints about the side effects. We are being gentle with each other.

Thank you, all of you, for your support over the past week. I truly don't know how I would have coped without you.

processing

It has been a long old week. I'm exhausted but haven't been able to sleep more than 3 hours a night since Sunday.

A (the artist formerly known as Significant Other) has been staying in an hotel nearby and tomorrow morning we are meeting to "talk some things over". I guess that we have a few practical things to sort out - finances, when he will pick up the rest of his stuff, how to divide up the things we have bought together. It's very surreal to be thinking along these lines...

On Sunday A said that it was either leaving or taking anti-depressants. And so he left. He rang me at work this afternoon to say that he had been to see the GP and is now on antidepressants.

I'm very confused.

Anyway.

Tomorrow evening is a big family get-together at my aunt's house. I get to meet my cousin's new month-old baby and another cousin's new man. And on Sunday I'm going to lunch at my parents' house and will tell them the news about A and me.

Heigh-ho.

inadequate words

To say "thank you" just doesn't cover it. I've been sitting here for ten minutes trying to put into more coherent words how much your support means to me but I just can't.

So, for now, just "thank you". You are all so lovely.

the day so far

Woke up and everything was normal.
Had coffee.
Cleaned the kitchen.
Made more coffee.
Then he said it was either leaving me or going on anti-depressants.
He'd decided leaving me was the more appealing option.
He packed his bags and he's gone.

What now? What do I do now?

day 7: a photo that makes me happy

I know it's probably cheating but - to hell with it - nothing makes me happier:

twenty of the best

I'm finding this 30-day blog journal tougher than I anticipated. Nevertheless, onwards with day 6: in no particular order - twenty of my favourite things.

1. Chocolate. 'Nuff said.
2. Coffee, especially the lovely, aromatic grounds with cinnamon from the old-fashioned grocer-shop near where I live.
3. Rose and geranium body lotion from Ne@l's Y@rd Remedies. Bonkers expensive but oh, such a lovely treat a couple of times a year.
4. D@unt Books on Maryleb0ne High Street. I can't count the hours I have lost myself in there.
5. "0n the S@nds" by Har0ld H@rvey - I love this painting and I have a print of it hanging above the desk. My friend Too bought it for me 15 years ago, after we spent a summer week in Wales, reading on the beach.
6. Reading. Again, 'nuff said
7. This ALI blogging community. I've said it before and I will say it again but - I don't know how I would have got through this past year or so without you.
8. Diet c0ke. It's a guilty pleasure.
9. My MP3 player. I never leave the house without it.
10. My camera. I never leave the house without that either.
11. My 10-year-old pink zip-up hoodie. It is soft, warm, comfortable and unexpectedly flattering - what more can a woman want from an item of clothing?
12. Hot chocolate with marshmallows - heaven in a mug.
13. C@mden L0ck Market. It has changed so much since I used to spend happy Saturdays there with friends as a teenager in the 80s but I still love it (though better in the winter when there are fewer tourists).
14. Not setting the alarm clock at the weekend. I'm not really one for long lie-ins but not getting out of bed until 8.00am on Saturday and Sunday mornings is just delicious.
15. Scr@bble. I love it, although Significant Other won't play the board game with me, so I play on In Yer F@ceb00k with - well, anyone who offers really.
16. My hair straighteners. Without them I have a barnet that resembles M0nica in "Fr1ends" when she goes to Barbad0s.
17. The power shower in the bathroom. I had it put in 2 days after moving in, it cost so much money especially after just buying the flat, that I had to live off scrambled eggs and bananas (not on the same plate) for 6 weeks just to help pay for it. But even now, 12 years later, worth every penny.
18. The fluffy red blanket we keep on the sofa. Snuggled under that, watching tv on a winter's evening everything seems right.
19. Significant Other. Despite the horrible and painful times we are going through right now, whatever happens he will always be the father of my children.
20. My darling little cat.

recommended reading

A little while ago, B recommended this book for the way it deals with grief. I got all excited because I bought and read a copy years ago when my BFF died. I turned the flat upside down in my hunt for it to no avail, but I did uncover this, which I bought after we lost Starchild.

I can't believe I had forgotten it because I found it to be incredibly sensitive, moving, helpful. It is rather UK-centric as well, in its practical advice, but the experiences other women share within the book made me feel like perhaps I wasn't lost in the wilderness all alone. (I found this book before I found the online ALI community).

Anyway, I recommend it.

and I quote

30-day blog journal, day 5: my favourite quote.

I don't know who said this first (it's attributed to a few people if you G0ogle it) but I still love it:

"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, champagne in one hand - strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming holy sh1t - what a ride!"

(This photo is from my birthday celebration with some friends. There's gold leaf in them there cocktails. Seriously. Gold leaf!)

I hate...

...this advert so much I visited the website and voted "not pregnant" 7 times.

I have turned into a bitter, envious woman.

my favourite book

There is no way I can pick one favourite book.

Or five favourite books.

Or fifty.

So I'm cheating (again) and listing the three books I've re-read most often.

The H@ppy Pris0ner by M0nica Dicken.s
The Br0ntes Went to W0olw0rths by Rachel Fergus0n
Persuasi0n by J@ne Aust.en

I'm not a very modern girl, me...

30-day blog journal, day 3

My favourite television programme.

This is an easy one because I don't really watch that much TV. I used to love "The W£st Wing" and "B@ttlestar G@lactica" when they were on but have been a bit bereft since they finished. So the winner of this category is easily "M0ck the Wee.k", a panel show on BBC2. I have been known to cry with laughter over it (and I also have a bit of a soft spot for host Dar@ O Bri@in...)

my favourite movie

I have tried and tried but I can't narrow this down to just one. I mean, sometimes different moods need different films.

So I've (grudgingly) narrowed it down to 5:
"Ice Cold in Alex" (classic war film complete with stiff upper lips, sporting behaviour and heroism)
"Now, Voyager" (Sunday afternoon weepfest meets feel-good, what's not to like?)

"Mama Mia" (because sometimes we all need a little Abba)

"Breakfast at Tiffany's" (even though I've seen this a hundred times, I always but always cry at the end)
"Fight Club" (sometimes I love me a little blood and violence)

me, me, me

I have been taken by this idea of the 30 Day Blog Journal and, never one to leave a bandwagon unjumped-upon, I thought I would give it a go.

Day 1 - my favourite song.
"Oliver's Army" by Elvis Costello. It never fails to cheer me up, although I am at a loss to explain why. And watching him perform it live at a festival a few years ago was one of the best musical experiences of my life.

What's your favourite song (if you can narrow it down to one?)

meh, meh, meh

You are all lovely. Thank you for your comments on my last post, asking whether Significant Other / we are getting help. We are still going to see the Lovely Therapist at Rel@ate on a weekly basis, and the sessions are helpful, in the main. But I think that even Lovely Therapist last week was getting a bit frustrated at our lack of progress; she even asked us why we are still together if we are making each other so miserable.

Neither one of us could answer.

Significant Other is now seeing a therapist by himself, and whether we carry on going to see Lovely Therapist is up for discussion. He is also seriously considering taking some medication but can't quite bring himself to do that yet.

And me? I'm just taking everything one day at a time.

peaks and troughs

I knew that dealing with Significant Other's depression would be a case of peaks and troughs. I just didn't realise that I would be looking back at what I called a trough 2 months ago and find that it was in fact a peak.

champagne cocktail

A combination of an icky week at work and it being my birthday tomorrow made me wander over to the champagne bar at St P@ncras Station and have this before heading home:



Bliss!

things I have learnt today

1) That being asked for money by a grown woman dressed as a fairy, carrying a large bucket simply labelled "charity", is unlikely to induce me to part with my hard-earned cash.

2) That it takes a nano-second to drop a pine-nut into a computer keyboard and a full ten minutes to extract it using an opened-up paper-clip and a blob of Blu-T@c.

3) That wearing a full-skirted frock on a deceptively breezy day is guaranteed to reveal your nether-garments to the paramedics who are taking their tea break in the ambulance bay.

4) That it is possible to walk around the whole day with a pen stuck in your hair and no-one will say a word, so you only discover it when you get home.

5) That if someone tells you at mid-day that you are "well maintained" you will spend the rest of the day feeling like some kind of National Trust landmark.

summer chic

An icky day in the middle of an icky week was enlivened this afternoon by the woman ahead of me in the queue for sushi. She was wearing a strappy sundress, flip-flops and...a Ushanka:

back in Blighty

Thirty-eight hours of travel from door-to-door later and we got home yesterday afternoon. I am still sooo tired that I don't remember much from the journey apart from a few highlights.

1. on the plane from the Sunshine Co@st to Sydney there was a child in the row behind us who screamed. She screamed when her brother got the window seat. She screamed when her mother fastened her seatbelt. She screamed (for joy this time?) when she was offered a sweet. She screamed for 2 minutes straight for no discernible reason and then her brother swapped seats with her and stopped screaming and instead took up kicking the seat in front of her. Which of course was mine.
2. on the 14-hour flight from Sydney to Dub@i there was a man across the aisle from us who kept his neighbouring passengers...amused...for roughly six hours by singing along to the music playing on his headphones. Every now and then he would hit a particularly high note and his immediate neighbour jumped a mile in her seat, poor thing. He seemed to have an inordinate amount of B@rry White on his playlist, and had clearly been a fan of the tv show "All.y McBe@l" because I swear he once did a bit of this dance in his seat (with his eyes closed).
3. we had a few hours to pass in Sydney so took the train from the airport to Circle Qu@y and checked to see that the bridge and the opera house were still how we remembered them.
4. they were :-)
5. I watched "Shutt£r Island" on the flight from Dub@i to London and it gave me nightmares last night.
   

last days

So on Saturday morning, Significant Other and I got all spontaneous and we hired a car and I drove us to where we could catch a steam train.
We raced the sunset to Hervey B@y where we had a romantic meal amid sparkly lights.


The next morning we watched the sun rise over the marina.

We stopped for lunch at Tin C@n B@y on the way back here.


And today we walked on the beach.

Just him and me, and it was lovely.

raving

We interupt the usual schedule of ranting at the universe to rave over Australia, and in particular, QLD. I have been here twice before but I had forgotten:

The air! Fresh like nothing you whiff in London, even on the breeziest of days.

The tomatoes! I hate them usually, it's a texture thing perhaps but I think that they come straight from Satan's armpit at home but here - so sweet and full of flavour. Nom, nom, nom.

The water! There is a shortage because of a long-standing drought so showers are no longer than 4 minutes long, but it is so soft that my skin feels like velvet and my hair is as soft as my darling little cat's fur.

The laid-backitude! If that isn't a word, it should be. The waiter at the Hervey B@y marina bistro (more on that in another post) last night waved us off with a cheery "toodles!"

And last but not least - the plasticised money! I dropped a twenty dollar bill briefly into the sink this morning and it is none the worse for wear.

I know that there is still a lot of poo to deal with in my life but - right here, right now I am happy.

improvement

You are all, every one of you, both awesome and right.

I can't tell you how much your comments and support have helped. I took your advice as, to a woman, you all suggested that I stop covering things up. So, when not-MIL asked yesterday morning "is Significant Other okay?" I said "well he is rather depressed". Not-MIL said nothing more on the topic to me but I heard her say something to not-FIL and later on in the day Significant Other was taken off for a father-son chat.

Before that, however, I also took a deep breath and spoke to Significant Other on Sunday night and told him that I thought he was being a bit unfair on me by shutting himself in the bedroom and leaving me to entertain his parents alone. I mentioned that this was all very difficult for me as well and told him that I was feeling sad and very homesick. I also said - not threatening, but simply stating the facts, that if things didn't get better, I was going to go home on Friday (it is not-MIL's birthday on Thursday).

And yesterday was a lovely day. Significant Other made me coffee in the morning, did his best to enjoy himself on a river cruise despite the rain, joined in the chatter around the lunch table and took me off for a walk on our own afterwards.

This is all your doing, dear interwebs, because you gave me the support I needed to find the courage to talk to Significant Other. So again - thank you!

Edited to add - just noticed that Blogger put the date and time of this post as if I were publishing in England normal, it is in fact Tuesday morning as I write this.

whimpering

I know that I am on holiday in a lovely part of the world and I should really get over myself but...I'm blue. Very blue.

Significant Other is barely speaking to me and spends most of his waking time lying on the bed in our room, leaving me to pretend that everything is fine to his parents.

My tummy hurts and I have constant nausea.

I'm back in the same state as where we lost Starchild 2 years ago. And even though we are an hour away from where it all happened (Brisb@ne), every time I turn my head I seem to be back in 2008.

I know that this is pathetic but - I'm thousands of miles from home and I could really do with a hug, dear Interwebs.

misnomer

It took almost 2 days of travel to get here - 6 hours from London to Dub@i, 16 hours from Duba@i to Sydney, 6 hour wait in Sydney, 1.5 hours from Sydney to the Sunshine Coast.

Ah the Sunshine Coast - what images does that name conjure up? Sun, warmth, sea, surf.

I'm sitting under the heater, my cardigan zipped up to my chin and the hood snug over my ears after a cold and rainy day, part of which was spent buying me a coat. Everyone I have spoken to today has agreed that we are having an "unusually cold week this week".

Ah well, there is a bookshop opposite and a coffee shop a quick hurtle down the road and we are on holiday so it's not really so bad :-)

travelling

Given that I have been merrily sharing intimate details of my lady-parts over the past year, it feels strange to have been shy of mentioning before that I am leaving London, nay England, for 2 weeks tonight.

Significant Other flew off on Friday and is already in a land down-under and I am leaving on a jet-plane in about 2 hours to meet him there. We are going to spend two weeks with his parents in their holiday apartment in Australia. I guess the reason I didn't mention it before is that I wasn't sure if we would make it to this trip or if Significant Other would have left me by now.

Well, that is one of the reasons. The other reason is that I have met my not-in-laws in the flesh once before, 2 years ago while I was pregnant with Starchild. At that time the plan was to return this year with their 18-month-old grandchild; instead I am going with empty arms, a barren womb and no baby in the future.

On the plus side, of course, I get to spend two weeks on holiday on the other side of the world. And I also get to spend the next ten minutes wandering around staring longingly at unfeasibly large bars of chocolate in Duty Free...

rambling on

When I started this blog a year ago I had no real idea why I was doing it or what it was going to be about.

I wasn't planning on writing about infertility, loss or our struggles to conceive.

I thought that The BFG would be my only reader and I never thought that a year later I would still be rambling on regularly.

I don't even remember how I found Stirrup Queens but every day I thank the blogging stars that I did. This community is amazing and I have "met" some incredible women and the support you have given me has made the ups and downs of the past twelve months easier to bear.

Thank you.

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.