ALL THE WAYS!

Well I STARTED my Christmas Eve with a good attitude. My day started with laughs and smiles. Then I made the critical error of trying to perform a seeming trigger-free task. I went to the convenience store to wish the owner, a friend of the whole neighbourhood, a happy retirement (today is his last day) and to buy recycling bags for the Christmas wrap (we have some presents under the tree).
During my warm chat with “Harry” from “Harry’s Variety” he glanced at my belly and asked excitedly, “when is baby coming”.

Deep breath, swallow those tears, keep up that fake smile, decide how to deal with this.

I decided to go with an approach that has worked in the past. The truth. For an old man to whom English is a second language he was actually pretty interested to talk about it. I told him there was no baby in there but that we were waiting for a child through adaption. He asked what the problem was? Why couldn’t we have a baby? I told him they just wouldn’t stay in there. He asked why I don’t try ALL THE WAYS? ( he really emphasized that one). I explained that we tried ALL THE WAYS (emphasis right back at ya) but to no avail. We moved on to talk more about adoption. He’ll be watching for his new neighbour to arrive.

Merry Christmas and happy retirement Harry. Now time for a little cry.

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Pumpkin Smackdown 2013 – the Results Show!!!

Immotileturtle's Blog

It’s the moment that you’ve all been waiting for, the highlight of the year, the reason you got out of bed this morning. I am about to announce the winners of the #IFPumpkinSmackdown 2013!

If you don’t know what I’m talking about (Who are you? Where have you been?!) you can read all about it here and you can read about some of the awesome prizes on offer here and here.

This totally awesome competition was the brain child of Barren Betty and Fertility Doll and I am honoured to have been named “Grand High Judge and Priestess”.

There were 36 entries in total… yep, you read that right, thirty six. Each and every single entry was absolutely brilliant. I hope that you all had as much fun carving them as I did judging. If you haven’t seen Betty’s post from last night, which showcased all 36 entries…

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Pumpkins, infertiles and cackles

I’m glad we’re finding ways to have fun with the tough holidays. Still probably going to turn off the lights and close my curtains though!

Fertility Doll

You NEED to read this! Pumpkins + Infertiles  (pregnant ones included) + Barren Betty with a drill= A WHOLE LOT OF FUN! This could go horribly well for some of us and tragically wrong for others. Either way we’re all going cackle happily and we want you to join in!  Barren Betty explains it all on her blog including how on earth we came up with this– so head on over there!! Whatchu waiting for?

If you’re worried about your pumpkin carving skills (or lack of), rest assured there are many categories and this is one of them:

 we are all fighting for the Lamest in Show award… #gameon  – Barren Betty 

Current pumpkin contenders (this is sounding like Gladiators)

1. Barren Betty

Betty’s in it to win it. The fact she’s being let loose with knives and a drill scares me a bit. I hope Mr Betty…

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sunshine award

Nominated for a sunshine award! Thanks Eli’s Corner! I’ll do my homework as soon as I have the chance. I’m so glad we’ve all found each other..it almost makes it bearable.

Eli's Corner

Hey all,

I’ve been nominated for the Sunshine Award!  Yay!  I have to confess I had no idea what that was – being pretty green at all things bloggy – and it took me a minute to figure it out.  It kind of reminds me of the old chain letters you used to get.  Yes, I’m old enough to remember chain LETTERS, none of this email-this-to-100-people-or-your-cat-will-die crap.  I’m talking mail a pair of panties to 9 friends and you’ll get 200 pairs of panties in the mail.  I never actually did that because it was a lot of postage, and I felt weird getting panties in the mail from strangers.  Also, really, who needs 200 pairs of panties?  But this I will do, because it means that A Calm Persistence believes that I am a writer who brightens other people’s days – which is amazing and awesome.  Especially since I…

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Boot Camp Baby Bomb

you can't choose when

Last year, around this time, I signed up for a boot camp with a friend.  It was in the time just before I got into the fertility clinic. Another little window for exercise.  I stopped the class when we started to “try”. There was no way I was going to lose another baby.  I know that exercising is very likely NOT the reason that I lost my babies, but in the back of my head there is always the wonder and blame.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have gone swimming”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have done those push ups”

“Maybe, maybe, maybe….”

To take the class in the first place, I of course had to fill out the medical questionnaire.

  • Recent Surgery? Yes, two D&Cs
  • Medication? (insert long list of fertility drugs here)
  • Recent Weight Gain? Yes (see above)
  • Reason to want to “Get Fit”?  So that I stop looking pregnant/ So…

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Period Peddies

I got (yet another) bad news call from the doctor today. Another negative.
I’m so frustrated and puzzled as to why this isn’t working. I knew there was a significant chance that if I got pregnant again it might not work out but now I can’t even get pregnant anymore!
After the call, I was feeling frustrated and defeated. I could really use some good news.
I decided to treat myself to a pedicure. “Period Peddies” have been a little reward I’ve been giving myself. When I get my period, I go for a pedicure. This little tradition has been my way of staying positive and not seeing “Aunt Flo” as a complete devastation. A couple of my friends have even started to recognize that when my feet look shabby, I’m probably pregnant.
The moment I plunked my feet into the bubbly, soothing, salted water the pedicurist asked…
“Are you pregnant?”
(Seriously, people need to learn to stop asking this question!!!!!!)
There goes my relaxing treat. So much for taking my mind off things.
Instead of the polite “no”, I opted to give her the full story. Not the sob story version but instead more of a medical bulleted list ending with “and that’s why I often look like I’m pregnant”. (All presented “sans tears” by some miracle).
I figured the full version of the story was appropriate here because I see her (almost) every 28 days. I really don’t want her asking me every time she sees me!
Here’s to hoping that I get some shabby toes soon!

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Congratulations?

This has been a very difficult week.  The same day that I found out that I’m not pregnant, I got the news that my brother’s baby boy was born.

 I’ve been dreading the news.  I didn’t know exactly when the baby was expected, but I knew it was soon.

 

I seriously hoped that as soon as I heard the news or saw a photo that my heart would melt and I would want to go see the baby and it would be different because it’s my family.

 

That didn’t happen.

 

When I found out I almost threw up.  I cried and cried.  I peeked a photo and had to close it right away because it was far too painful.  It’s still painful. 

When my mom phoned me and told me how amazing the baby was and how much he looked like my brother I had to cut her off.  I can’t even stomach hearing about it.  

 

I’m glad now that I communicated my feelings to my brother and his wife before the baby came.  I told them that I might not be around when the baby comes but that I hope to keep the door open and come around when I’m ready.  Thankfully they understood.  

I sent them a message as soon as I heard:

“Congratulations! Glad the baby is here safe. Give him a big squeeze from his aunt. xo”

Hopefully occasional messages and gestures will remind them that I actually care. 

In one of his emails my brother said I would be a great aunt.  I know I will and I’m sad that I have to put it on hold.   I so wish that everything could be different.   I wish I was there now handing them down the things my baby had outgrown.  I wish our babies could be together.  I’m so sad and so jealous.  I never got to bring my babies home.

 

I’m not ready to be an aunt.  I need to be a mom.

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