I bought myself a 100mm Macro lens and oh, I am in love.
So I’m sharing that love, right here.
Miscellaneous Voices: Australian Blog Writing #1 can be purchased at Miscpress, from Editor/Publisher Karen Andrews.
Category: Life
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In love
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It’s all a bit surreal.
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.
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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.)
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In other news, I bought myself a Canon 100mm Macro lens for my camera and I am in love.
LOVE.
Love.
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Pillows
You don’t know this, but I have a thing about pillows.
I like them.
A lot.
So much in fact that when we were cleaning out Nan’s house, I ended up with all of the pillows. Seems Nan liked having lots of spare pillows about too.
We used her spare pillows to pack the furniture as we moved it, shoving them into glass cabinets and between things to prevent breakages. They did their job and nothing broke.
Today, I found 4 pillows on the floor of my bedroom, all sans pillow cases – it seems Amy likes naked pillows as much as she likes her naked self. I picked them up and went hunting for pillow cases.
Thinking about it, I remembered that out in the shed, there were more pillows, packed still into the glass cabinet that’s in storage here. It’s coming up to winter now, the weather is cold and the cats have a plethora of mice that they can’t kill fast enough.
Side note: It’s probably not going to be that long until you start seeing posts like this. and this. and this and this and this.Wow, seems I wrote a lot about mice last year.
I went out into the shed and unpacked all of the pillows, not wanting the mice to start nesting in them.
One, two, three, four, five, six pillows, packed into the cabinet.
6 pillows.
I rummaged around in the shed and brought inside anything else that I thought mice might find interesting, then I came inside to put pillow covers on all of the pillows.
You know, almost 9 months on, those pillows, they still smell like my grandmother.
And that kinda sucks.
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I have Nan’s overcoat sitting in the back of my closet. Despite hanging around with my clothes, it still smells like her perfume. Every now and again, I’ll lean in and breathe in her smell.
Then, I’ll take a deep breath and walk away; back to my daily chores, back to the blogosphere; back to life.
I’m not sure what I’ll do when it doesn’t smell like her anymore.
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A few months ago, maybe month 6, maybe month 7, I stopped talking about Nan. It hurt too much, there were too many tears unshed and so I just stopped.
I dragged my brain away from thoughts of her and refused to think about it.
At all.
Mostly, this works for me.
I don’t have to think about her, or speak about her, or cry anymore.
But, it’s funny. Still, most days, fuck, every day – something will happen and it will run through my head like a litany.
I miss my Nan. I miss my Nan. I miss my Nan.
In time to my heartbeat; in time to my breathing.
Because I do. I miss her so badly it hurts.
I just don’t talk about it anymore.
It’s been almost nine months.
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Lovely day.
It’s been a lovely day.
I KNOW!
How often do I get to say that? My days are normally fraught with never ending toys, tantrums and issues, but today, well it’s been a good day.
I even feel (I know, GASP if you want, I know I did) like I’ve managed to get on top of the housework (I am not domestic. the thought of being domestic gets me sharpening my eye gouging spoons, ready for stabbing something) and the kids have behaved.
It was all topped off by the fact that Isaac snuggled into my chest and fell asleep, after hours of fighting a nap (but remaining happy, again, wow) and then, I got to lay on the couch all snuggled up with my son snuggled firmly under my chin.
You know, sometimes a snuggled baby is all you need.
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Because it’s a Sunday, I’ll point you to my food blog and tell you to check out over there. Nothing much else happening on the internet for me, I’ve not written anything much.
Congratulations to Xbox4NappyRash, his blog is a finalist in the Best Irish Blog awards. It’s up to a panel of judges now and I hear he has some huge competition, but I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed anyways.
Barbara needs some help coming up with ways to keep her son entertained for 20 seconds while he uses his inhaler and spacer. What would keep a small boy entertained while he has to sit still and breathe? Go over and give her some ideas (I said singing, as did lots of others.)
Frogpondsrock is having a competition, she is also looking for inspiration. Enter as many times as you like, you might not win, but your comment might be the one to inspire her next set of work. I haven’t entered, probably because I can boss her into making me things without taking the prizes away from other people.
Also, if you want to weigh into the camera debate, she is asking for your opinion on what sort of camera she should be looking at. I’m pushing for a DSLR, but that’s because I love mine.
Uhm, I think that’s it for a lovely day/link roundup thing.
Now, I’ve got to go and check the slowcooker and start sharpening my spoons. I think I feel a bout of domesticity that needs stabbing.
x
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Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…
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.
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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?
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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?