Headfuck

My period was due over a month ago – and it didn’t arrive.

I vomited, I swung wildly between happy and angry and my sense of smell, well, wow. I felt pregnant.

And then subtly, I didn’t anymore.

Pregnancy tests, that I’d waited to take, said negative, backed up by a blood test from the doctor, which was mostly inconclusive, but still negative.

I got an almost, barely there positive test in the beginning. We couldn’t tell properly if there was a second line, it was so faint, and I figured that another test in a few days would show a proper result. Only it didn’t.

My doctors opinion, most likely a blighted ovum and something went wrong, early on, leaving me with barely any HCG by the time I had blood drawn. Let’s just wait until you bleed naturally. Or in another few weeks, we can put you on the pill and try and stimulate a period that way.

He didn’t want to investigate further and actually, I’m glad he didn’t. I knew I was pregnant, just like I know that something didn’t go right and I am not having a baby.

I continued to vomit, while still not being pregnant.

So I put myself on the pill, tablets I had left from the 6 weeks of bleeding prior to conceiving Isaac.

Monday night (while still on the pill) I started to bleed.

So it’s finishing and even as I’m cramping and in pain, I am glad to be getting it over and done with.

In my mind, I am losing a pregnancy, not a baby. Something went wrong when cell A tried to join to cell B and they didn’t equal a baby.

And that’s okay, it truly is.

And I’m okay. There were tears when I got the blood results and I’m missing my grandmother more and more,

but I am okay.

I’m phillisophical about the whole thing.

Except the cramping. That just kind of sucks.

***

I truly am okay, so please don’t feel sad for me. If you want, you can share your stories of loss here and we’ll all hold hands and smile wryly at each other. Plus, the lovely people at The Online Circle, sent me some Cadbury Fairtrade chocolate to try and that arrived today, which was lovely.

Mmmmm, tastes guilt-free.

(Actually, it tastes delicious. The ingredients are slightly different to the other block of Cadbury chocolate I had in the cupboard and the Fairtrade seems to be more … pure? somehow? Delicious anyway.)

***

In other news, I bought myself a Canon 100mm Macro lens for my camera and I am in love.

LOVE.

Love.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

I keep repeating to myself. I will NOT have a panic attack. I will not. Nope, not at all.

It’s not working of course, but I’ll keep repeating it anyway.

***

When I was little, Mum and Dad slaughtered a pig in the middle of summer. Only to have their refrigerator and freezer die that same day. Much stress ensued and much pork was eaten.

Mum is planning on slaughtering her pigs this weekend. We’ve been discussing it, knowing that a fair amount of the meat was going to be stored in my freezer.

‘How’s your freezer?’ asks Mum this morning.

‘Fine’ I said, ‘waiting for the pigs!’

HA! HAHAHAHAHA. HAAAAA.

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

UGH.

This morning, after I spoke to mum, I opened my freezer.

And everything was defrosted.

Everything.

Seems that the power surge we had a few days ago has blown my freezer up. The lights are on, but the temperature is not frozen. Sigh.

I rang my insurance and yes, it will be covered, just jump through these hoops, stand on your head and spin three times.

Fine, I can do that.

Everything was fine.

FINE.

Fine.

Until we started to do the washing.

Now, the washing machine is plugged into the same power point as the freezer. Most everything else we own is plugged into surge protected boards. Thank God.

Half way through a wash, the machine stopped. It started playing up, all the buttons flashed and it refused to spin anymore. Fine. Stop/restart. Same issue.

Finally we got a load of washing finished.

And then everything went downhill.

It’s a front load washing machine, which means that it has a door lock, to prevent the door opening midcycle.

Seems the door lock is electronic and has forgotten how to disengage.

On top of the machine not wanting to spin or wash or WORK.

Broken.

I rang my insurance again, and got the now broken washing machine added to my recent claim. They’ll repair it, or replace it, depending on what the electrician has to say.

Fuck. It just never rains does it?

***

In other news, Panic Attacks. The Reason For.

Go and read this post. Go on, I’ll wait. La. lalaalaa. Laaa.

Right, you’re back?

Hello.

The hospital rang today.

We have an appointment in about 3 weeks, to see the Paediatric Coordinator (the head honcho) about Amy and Isaac’s genetic test results.

I’m worried because when the orders for the Coeliac genetic screen was put through we were told that our regular Paed would give us the results. Then, we were told to ring for the results. Then, we were told the results were too complex and involved to be discussed over the phone and could we please come in for an earlier appointment. Oh and by the way, you’ll be seeing Dr B, the big boss guy.

Today, the nurse rang to let me know about the sooner appointment. She made a point of telling me it would be with Dr B, and not one of the Registrars.

Shit.

So I’m a little stressed.

A teensy bit.

A whole lot.

So, Dear Internets, what do you think? Stressing for no reason, or justified? Where you are, would you have to see the Boss Guy just for a simple Coeliac Gene Screen?

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Part One here.

I organised to meet up with a friend -A- who was visiting from up north. She met me after work and then Nathan drove us back to where I was living. We arranged to have drinks at Nat’s new place and I went home and grabbed a change of clothes. I talked to my boyfriend, while A listened.

Her comments after I finished talking to him? ‘He treats you like shit Ron’. It’s not that my boyfriend treated me like shit, he didn’t really, it’s that we were 16 and we’d been together for well over 2 years. Familarity and everything. He was a nice boy.

And so, we went and got drunk. All together, Nathan and I, his older brother, a housemate, and my two friends, A and K. After a few drinks, I stopped drinking and instead, watched everyone else get drunker. Eventually everyone passed out or went home except for Nathan, his housemate and me.

We didn’t do much of anything except talk.

Nathan snuggled me, he looked into my eyes and talked to me, he kissed my fingertips. He made me melt.

His housemate left in disgust.

The morning came and I was sober. I had had no sleep, I needed a shower and I started work at 2pm. I also realised I couldn’t keep going the way I was going and that it wasn’t fair to my boyfriend. I talked to A, I talked to Nat’s housemate, I talked to thin air. I begged Nat’s housemate to give Nat my number. She was reluctant, but said she would. She didn’t.

9am that morning found me back at my boyfriend’s house, sitting on his bed, telling him that I wasn’t ‘in’ love with him anymore and crying.

I regret how I told him. We had been together for 2 and a half years and I didn’t have the decency to let him wake up properly before dropping the bombshell. I regret that.

I showered and cried and got ready for work. Before I left, I packed a bag and my now ex and I talked, a lot. As I left for work, we parted with a hug and a kiss, on sort of good terms.

I walked to the bus stop, hung over and exhasted. That night at work was the longest shift I have ever worked.

I crashed the night at Ex’s grandmothers house. She was lovely enough to let me stay (my shifts all started at 6am that week and she lived close to work) for a night or two and to hand me tissues as I silently cried.

Then, I spoke to my mother about everything and I went home, on her orders. Back to my grandmother’s where I was living, except when I was staying at my boyfriends house.

It was the smartest thing I have ever done.

A few days later, Nathan and I met up for coffee before I started work and spent 3 hours talking about nothing. The next day, he picked me up from work and drove me home. He didn’t go home that night, or any night afterwards.

And that was that.

We moved into his house not long afterwards, and from there, back to my parents after a large falling out with his housemate.

We rented our first flat and suddenly, here we are, 5 years later.

It’s been a rollercoaster these last few years. We’ve now got a mortgage, two babies, two dogs, two horses and two cats. And for all that happened to get us to this point, for how ill I still feel when I think of some of it, for how unproud I am of some things, I wouldn’t change a moment. Because here we are, and I am happy.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }