We can't help ourselves. Everytime I get pregnant or have an embryo transferred we end up giving the embryo a name. So far names have included Blob, Pip, Poppy, Speck and Jellybean. I can't remember the others. This time, the name Popsicle seems to have stuck. My husband asks me several times a day how Popsicle and I are doing. He puts his head on my tummy and tells Popsicle how much we love her/him and want her/him. I love that he does and says these things.
On Monday night while he was at work, he sent this email:
Hello my Popsicle
I am sitting here thinking about you in your Mothers beautiful womb. To you I say feel the love she and I have for you, let it welcome and nourish you. Be safe with the knowledge that you are the miracle we pray for, stay with us and we promise you our love and devotion. Hear my voice and listen to words of warmth, comfort and love. So to you me little popsicle I say stay and grow and be with us. I ask your mum to read this aloud to you, so you know I am thinking of you in my mind, heart and soul.
All my love and self
Dad
He is already a wonderful dad to his son, but I can't wait to make him a dad to OUR children. He is fantastic.
By the way, we have actually got a real names picked out, but of course we can't use those until we get a sticky bub. Hopefully soon!
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
I'm PUPO!
So I'm Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise.
I've had a fairly cruisey day, which is just what I needed. My lovely husband brought me a cup of tea in bed, then we got ready and headed in for my acupuncture session, dropping my stepson at school on the way. Then into the clinic to wait for our appointment. They were only running 30 minutes late today, which isn't too bad by their standards. My FS is just so busy and there's really not many options in Tassie (only one clinic) so the waiting room is mostly always full.
This time I asked to know more about the quality of our embryo. It was a six cell, but only grade 3 (I think at my clinic the top grade is 5). So I was a bit disappointed that it wasn't graded better, but it had apparently grown more cells since it was defrosted yesterday, so that is something. My FS is a believer that it is how well the embryo divides that counts, not the grade. He says it's not always the pretty ones that succeed (does that apply to life too I wonder?). So I will try and take comfort from that, but not having a grade 5 doesn't sit well with my perfectionist take on life.
Anyway, we were in and out within five minutes with our embryo tucked in safe and sound. Then we saw a nurse to get my first pregnyl injection. I'm having pregnyl (HCG) shots to hopefully elevate my progesterone levels and give the frostie a good chance. I didn't use this last time, so hopefully it makes a difference. I have to give myself another injection of pregnyl on Thursday and Sunday. The thing with using pregnyl is that you can't take a sneaky pregnancy test early as the hcg will give you a false positive. This is going to be so hard for me. Test date is 16 days away - how am I going to keep my sanity for that long??? I've been an early tester since we started TTC. I have a stash of internet cheapie pregnancy tests to feed my addiction! Last time I got a BFP only 6 days after transfer.
Anyway, after that was another acupuncture session (with a quick browse around Myer to kill some time before) then a lovely leisurely lunch at one of our favourite haunts. Home to watch a DVD in bed (told you I had a cruisey day!) and now I'm kicking back on the couch watching some tv.
So, please cross your fingers and toes for me, as I will for you. I hope to have good news to share with you on the 11th August!
I've had a fairly cruisey day, which is just what I needed. My lovely husband brought me a cup of tea in bed, then we got ready and headed in for my acupuncture session, dropping my stepson at school on the way. Then into the clinic to wait for our appointment. They were only running 30 minutes late today, which isn't too bad by their standards. My FS is just so busy and there's really not many options in Tassie (only one clinic) so the waiting room is mostly always full.
This time I asked to know more about the quality of our embryo. It was a six cell, but only grade 3 (I think at my clinic the top grade is 5). So I was a bit disappointed that it wasn't graded better, but it had apparently grown more cells since it was defrosted yesterday, so that is something. My FS is a believer that it is how well the embryo divides that counts, not the grade. He says it's not always the pretty ones that succeed (does that apply to life too I wonder?). So I will try and take comfort from that, but not having a grade 5 doesn't sit well with my perfectionist take on life.
Anyway, we were in and out within five minutes with our embryo tucked in safe and sound. Then we saw a nurse to get my first pregnyl injection. I'm having pregnyl (HCG) shots to hopefully elevate my progesterone levels and give the frostie a good chance. I didn't use this last time, so hopefully it makes a difference. I have to give myself another injection of pregnyl on Thursday and Sunday. The thing with using pregnyl is that you can't take a sneaky pregnancy test early as the hcg will give you a false positive. This is going to be so hard for me. Test date is 16 days away - how am I going to keep my sanity for that long??? I've been an early tester since we started TTC. I have a stash of internet cheapie pregnancy tests to feed my addiction! Last time I got a BFP only 6 days after transfer.
Anyway, after that was another acupuncture session (with a quick browse around Myer to kill some time before) then a lovely leisurely lunch at one of our favourite haunts. Home to watch a DVD in bed (told you I had a cruisey day!) and now I'm kicking back on the couch watching some tv.
So, please cross your fingers and toes for me, as I will for you. I hope to have good news to share with you on the 11th August!
Saturday, July 24, 2010
The blood collector
When you do ivf, you generally have to have lots of blood tests (as you may know from first hand experience). I normally don't mind this. I'm not particularly worried about needles or the sight of blood. The collection centre that I normally go to has a number of blood collectors that cycle through. Most of them are great and I'm in and out in a few minutes. But there is one lady who awful at taking blood and I get nervous as soon as I see it's her on the job when I visit. My last visit on Friday was the worst so far.
The wait for my turn takes ages. I don't mind waiting, but there are only two people ahead of me and the first takes 20 minutes and the second 15 minutes. Maybe they were having lots of samples taken, but I somehow doubt it, she is just very slow. Finally my turn. The lady fusses around slowly getting everything ready. She is very chatty and friendly, but this seems to slow her down even more. She puts the tourniquet on one arm and makes me pump my hand while she pokes and prods. She tells me I have "terrible veins" (she tells me this every time, no one else ever seems to have a problem with them). Then she decides my other arm might be better and repeats the same on the other side. Nope, no better, so back to the first arm she goes. By now my arm was beginning to throb and go purple as she has the band on so tight. Then she tells me she's not "allowed" to get blood from deep veins, only from the ones near the surface as she hasn't had much training and experience. Eeek! She also tells me she feels she shouldn't have to work at this particular centre as she gets all the ivf patients who have terrible veins from having to have so many blood tests all the time.
Finally she goes for the jab and misses. Wiggles it around a bit and still nothing (just pain!). After all this (about 15 minutes worth), she rings her supervisor who comes in and has blood out of me within 60 seconds. I finally leave only to find a parking ticket as it has taken so long! I'm feeling really quite upset and stressed by now.
Normally I am not a complainer about bad service or products. I just don't go back and find somewhere else. But in this case, there are not many options, I can't really shop around. So in the end I rang up her supervisor and discussed my experiences with her (keep in mind that I've had blood collected from the collector a number of times and it has been awful each time). I feel bad for complaining about her as she seems to be a very nice person. But I just can't go through that each time I have to have blood taken. IVF is stressful enough without adding anything more to the mix! We've come to a bit of an arrangement where I can ring and see who's on before I go in. If it's her, then someone else will come in to take my blood.
Now I feel mean for dobbing on her. And I hope I don't run into her anyway, as she probably thinks I'm a whinging cow.
The wait for my turn takes ages. I don't mind waiting, but there are only two people ahead of me and the first takes 20 minutes and the second 15 minutes. Maybe they were having lots of samples taken, but I somehow doubt it, she is just very slow. Finally my turn. The lady fusses around slowly getting everything ready. She is very chatty and friendly, but this seems to slow her down even more. She puts the tourniquet on one arm and makes me pump my hand while she pokes and prods. She tells me I have "terrible veins" (she tells me this every time, no one else ever seems to have a problem with them). Then she decides my other arm might be better and repeats the same on the other side. Nope, no better, so back to the first arm she goes. By now my arm was beginning to throb and go purple as she has the band on so tight. Then she tells me she's not "allowed" to get blood from deep veins, only from the ones near the surface as she hasn't had much training and experience. Eeek! She also tells me she feels she shouldn't have to work at this particular centre as she gets all the ivf patients who have terrible veins from having to have so many blood tests all the time.
Finally she goes for the jab and misses. Wiggles it around a bit and still nothing (just pain!). After all this (about 15 minutes worth), she rings her supervisor who comes in and has blood out of me within 60 seconds. I finally leave only to find a parking ticket as it has taken so long! I'm feeling really quite upset and stressed by now.
Normally I am not a complainer about bad service or products. I just don't go back and find somewhere else. But in this case, there are not many options, I can't really shop around. So in the end I rang up her supervisor and discussed my experiences with her (keep in mind that I've had blood collected from the collector a number of times and it has been awful each time). I feel bad for complaining about her as she seems to be a very nice person. But I just can't go through that each time I have to have blood taken. IVF is stressful enough without adding anything more to the mix! We've come to a bit of an arrangement where I can ring and see who's on before I go in. If it's her, then someone else will come in to take my blood.
Now I feel mean for dobbing on her. And I hope I don't run into her anyway, as she probably thinks I'm a whinging cow.
Just an update
I had planned to write a new post every day or at least every second day, but somehow it just hasn't happened this week. It was (yet another) busy week at work, plus we have my stepson with us this week, which also makes things busier.
On Monday we are having a frostie transferred. Last Wednesday I had another scan. I was very nervous that there would be no follicle and that my cycle would be delayed and all would happen when I'm supposed to be travelling for work in a couple of weeks. But it was fine. I had a 17mm follicle on my left ovary. My FS said my lining was excellent and was "trilaminar". Of course I really didn't know what that was until I came home and consulted Dr Google. Apparently your lining is best if it shows three distinct layers when seen on an ultrasounds. Studies have shown rates of successful pregnancies are higher when a trilaminar lining is seen before transfer. So that's good news.
I had another acupuncture session a couple of days ago. My acupuncturist is so lovely and I feel pretty comfortable around her, but somehow I'm not finding acupuncture as relaxing as I thought I would. Friends have told me how they get really relaxed and one even falls asleep regularly while on the table with needles poking out everywhere!
So back to Monday. This cycle I decided I would take the day of transfer off work. Last time, I had my transfer after a morning meeting at work, then had to go straight back afterwards for another meeting. It wasn't a relaxing day! I am also having acupuncture straight before my transfer and then straight after. I'm still taking the foul smelling and tasting chinese herbs. The mix I'm taking now (from ovulation to transfer) are particularly disgusting. Almost gag stuff.
So fingers crossed this is all not for nothing again!
On Monday we are having a frostie transferred. Last Wednesday I had another scan. I was very nervous that there would be no follicle and that my cycle would be delayed and all would happen when I'm supposed to be travelling for work in a couple of weeks. But it was fine. I had a 17mm follicle on my left ovary. My FS said my lining was excellent and was "trilaminar". Of course I really didn't know what that was until I came home and consulted Dr Google. Apparently your lining is best if it shows three distinct layers when seen on an ultrasounds. Studies have shown rates of successful pregnancies are higher when a trilaminar lining is seen before transfer. So that's good news.
I had another acupuncture session a couple of days ago. My acupuncturist is so lovely and I feel pretty comfortable around her, but somehow I'm not finding acupuncture as relaxing as I thought I would. Friends have told me how they get really relaxed and one even falls asleep regularly while on the table with needles poking out everywhere!
So back to Monday. This cycle I decided I would take the day of transfer off work. Last time, I had my transfer after a morning meeting at work, then had to go straight back afterwards for another meeting. It wasn't a relaxing day! I am also having acupuncture straight before my transfer and then straight after. I'm still taking the foul smelling and tasting chinese herbs. The mix I'm taking now (from ovulation to transfer) are particularly disgusting. Almost gag stuff.
So fingers crossed this is all not for nothing again!
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Choosing infertility
Something I sometimes think about is whether it is worse to be able to get pregnant but always miscarriage or to not be able to get pregnant at all? Don't ask me why I think about this, it's not like you get to choose what type of infertility problems you might have.
I'm a "get pregnant but always miscarriage" type of infertile. This I find is such a huge roller coaster of emotions that it is utterly exhausting. I've been pregnant four times now and each time, I get excited. I just cannot stop myself feeling a little bubble of hope that grows bigger each day. I start thinking about the due date, when I will finish work, what things we will need to buy and on it goes. I know deep down that the chances aren't good, but my internal optimist always takes over and my imagination of life with this baby kicks into gear. The first time I was pregnant there was no doubts in my mind - I was pregnant and we would have a baby in less than 9 months time. Big crash back down to earth when we lost it. Each time I've been pregnant since, the optimist in me has been a little less enthusiastic. But the elation and hope that I feel each time I see two lines on that little stick always takes me sky high...and it is a long drop back down the other side when I inevitably lose the bub.
On the other hand, how would it feel to struggle to actually even get pregnant? You wouldn't get that excitement of seeing two lines on the stick and all the dreams that go with it, so I guess the roller coaster ride wouldn't be so high? Lot's more lows though I imagine and more doubt? I don't know.
All I do know is that being infertile sucks, whichever way you have it.
I'm a "get pregnant but always miscarriage" type of infertile. This I find is such a huge roller coaster of emotions that it is utterly exhausting. I've been pregnant four times now and each time, I get excited. I just cannot stop myself feeling a little bubble of hope that grows bigger each day. I start thinking about the due date, when I will finish work, what things we will need to buy and on it goes. I know deep down that the chances aren't good, but my internal optimist always takes over and my imagination of life with this baby kicks into gear. The first time I was pregnant there was no doubts in my mind - I was pregnant and we would have a baby in less than 9 months time. Big crash back down to earth when we lost it. Each time I've been pregnant since, the optimist in me has been a little less enthusiastic. But the elation and hope that I feel each time I see two lines on that little stick always takes me sky high...and it is a long drop back down the other side when I inevitably lose the bub.
On the other hand, how would it feel to struggle to actually even get pregnant? You wouldn't get that excitement of seeing two lines on the stick and all the dreams that go with it, so I guess the roller coaster ride wouldn't be so high? Lot's more lows though I imagine and more doubt? I don't know.
All I do know is that being infertile sucks, whichever way you have it.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Me, The Infertile One
So now I have finally met the man of my dreams, I think life should all fall into place. He is just as excited as I am about starting our family. He already has a son from a previous marriage who is 7 years old. I think my relationship with my stepson is about as good as they get. He lives with us week on/week off. He's a pretty great kid and I love him to bits, but he's just not mine. He already has a mum and a dad and my place is as his step mum. So although he does fill some of the void in my life that is reserved for my children, it is not quite the same. I'm sure anyone in the same situation knows what I mean or if you're not, you can probably imagine how I feel.
Anyway, we get busy in May 2008 and expect that I will be pregnant within a few months. It does take a few months, but in September I get two lines on my pee stick. I'm pregnant!! A blood test confirms the result and we excitedly tell both our families, along with some close friends. The elation doesn't last long. A couple of weeks later, I start bleeding and blood tests and a scan confirm a miscarriage. We are both devastated. I had never considered that I would have a miscarriage, that only happened to the really unlucky people right?
We try again. We decided we were just unlucky and the next one would stick just fine. A few months later and bingo! Pregnant again! This time, I'm nervous and anxious. My GP orders repeat blood test to check that the HCG levels are rising properly, but although they are rising, they are not going up quickly enough. As expected, we lose this one too at the same stage as the last.
I'm beginning to feel like something is wrong. I go and see an obstetrician and ask him to investigate. Although they normally don't do testing until after three miscarriages, he agrees to check things out and gives me an examination and orders lots of blood tests. Everything comes back normal.
Feeling relieved, we try again. Surely it will be third time lucky? I fall pregnant again, and this time things are looking much better. My blood tests should great rises and I make it past the stage I have miscarried before. It is now July 2009 and we go for our first appointment with the obstetrician. It is two days before we are due to fly to Vanuatu to get married and I am 7 weeks pregnant. We chat to the obstetrician about how I am feeling, which hospital we want to have the baby at and what the process is during my pregnancy for scans and appointments. Then it's time for the scan. I lie on the table as the doctor probes around with the dildo cam. He is quiet and a slight frown appears. He can't find anything in my uterus. Then he finds the bub with a strongly beating heart. It is measuring perfectly, but it's in the wrong place. It's in my right fallopian tube.
I'd been ignoring the pain on my right side for a few days, thinking I was just feeling normal twinges. An hours after my appointment I am rushed into emergency surgery as the pain worsens. My tube has ruptured and I have some internal bleeding. I lose my tube and my baby. I also lose a little more hope.
Hubby is a trooper all the way through this. He is there for me after surgery, looking after me and letting me grieve. He postpones our wedding trip and we leave a week later than expected. Our trip is not what it should have been. I am still recovering physically and am still on strong painkillers. My husband has been so strong for me and is now feeling the effects. He is sad and quiet for much of the trip. Our wedding day is joyous, but we still feel the pain of our loss overhanging us.
When we return home, we visit the obstetrician to talk about next steps. He tells us that my remaining tube is scarred and kinked as a result. There is a high chance of another ectopic. I have surgery in December 2009 to see if he can clear up the tube, and he does manage to remove some of the adhesions, but suggests that time is short and we should consider IVF as our chances of conceiving are not good.
We see a Fertility Specialist (FS) and start IVF in March 2010. I am excited and nervous. The cycle goes well and I produce 12 eggs. Out of the 12, 5 fertilise successfully. We transfer one in early April and four are frozen. I am feeling confident. I am going to be one of those lucky ones who are successful first go! It's not the case, and I'm devastated when Auntie Flo arrives.
Normally you have to wait one cycle before trying again. The FS agrees to let us try again with a frozen embryo on the next cycle (I am not good at waiting). We have an embryo transferred in early April. Being the impatient person I am, I pee on a pregnancy test 6 days later at 9dpo. There is a barely visible line! The next day it is much darker. I am pregnant!! I'm not supposed to have tested yet (not until 16dpo) so I keep secretly testing for the next 6 days to see the line darken. It does darken, but I don't think enough, so I finally ring the clinic at 15dpo and confess to my testing. They do a blood test and my HCG is at 96. They are not confident and neither am I. Two days later it is 155 (it's supposed to double every two days). We keep testing every two days - 258, 346. I madly search the internet for success stories with slowly rising HCG levels. There are some and they give me a tiny bit of hope. Finally at 5 weeks 5 days, I have a scan. A sac and fetal pole should be visible by now and possibly a beating heart. There is nothing but a tiny sac, way too small. I am prescribed misoprostel to bring on a miscarriage and I start bleeding heavily two days later in early May 2010.
So this brings me to now, July. We've had a month off to recover from the last miscarriage and had more testing done to see if the FS could find any reason for our losses. Again, nothing found. We are doing another Frozen Embryo Transfer (FET) this month. I am pulling out all the stops and have started acupuncture and nasty tasting chinese herbs. My scan yesterday showed only a 5mm lining and no follicles yet developing. I am so impatient, I just want to get on with it. Hurry up body and grow a nice juicy lining and get ready to ovulate!
Anyway, we get busy in May 2008 and expect that I will be pregnant within a few months. It does take a few months, but in September I get two lines on my pee stick. I'm pregnant!! A blood test confirms the result and we excitedly tell both our families, along with some close friends. The elation doesn't last long. A couple of weeks later, I start bleeding and blood tests and a scan confirm a miscarriage. We are both devastated. I had never considered that I would have a miscarriage, that only happened to the really unlucky people right?
We try again. We decided we were just unlucky and the next one would stick just fine. A few months later and bingo! Pregnant again! This time, I'm nervous and anxious. My GP orders repeat blood test to check that the HCG levels are rising properly, but although they are rising, they are not going up quickly enough. As expected, we lose this one too at the same stage as the last.
I'm beginning to feel like something is wrong. I go and see an obstetrician and ask him to investigate. Although they normally don't do testing until after three miscarriages, he agrees to check things out and gives me an examination and orders lots of blood tests. Everything comes back normal.
Feeling relieved, we try again. Surely it will be third time lucky? I fall pregnant again, and this time things are looking much better. My blood tests should great rises and I make it past the stage I have miscarried before. It is now July 2009 and we go for our first appointment with the obstetrician. It is two days before we are due to fly to Vanuatu to get married and I am 7 weeks pregnant. We chat to the obstetrician about how I am feeling, which hospital we want to have the baby at and what the process is during my pregnancy for scans and appointments. Then it's time for the scan. I lie on the table as the doctor probes around with the dildo cam. He is quiet and a slight frown appears. He can't find anything in my uterus. Then he finds the bub with a strongly beating heart. It is measuring perfectly, but it's in the wrong place. It's in my right fallopian tube.
I'd been ignoring the pain on my right side for a few days, thinking I was just feeling normal twinges. An hours after my appointment I am rushed into emergency surgery as the pain worsens. My tube has ruptured and I have some internal bleeding. I lose my tube and my baby. I also lose a little more hope.
Hubby is a trooper all the way through this. He is there for me after surgery, looking after me and letting me grieve. He postpones our wedding trip and we leave a week later than expected. Our trip is not what it should have been. I am still recovering physically and am still on strong painkillers. My husband has been so strong for me and is now feeling the effects. He is sad and quiet for much of the trip. Our wedding day is joyous, but we still feel the pain of our loss overhanging us.
When we return home, we visit the obstetrician to talk about next steps. He tells us that my remaining tube is scarred and kinked as a result. There is a high chance of another ectopic. I have surgery in December 2009 to see if he can clear up the tube, and he does manage to remove some of the adhesions, but suggests that time is short and we should consider IVF as our chances of conceiving are not good.
We see a Fertility Specialist (FS) and start IVF in March 2010. I am excited and nervous. The cycle goes well and I produce 12 eggs. Out of the 12, 5 fertilise successfully. We transfer one in early April and four are frozen. I am feeling confident. I am going to be one of those lucky ones who are successful first go! It's not the case, and I'm devastated when Auntie Flo arrives.
Normally you have to wait one cycle before trying again. The FS agrees to let us try again with a frozen embryo on the next cycle (I am not good at waiting). We have an embryo transferred in early April. Being the impatient person I am, I pee on a pregnancy test 6 days later at 9dpo. There is a barely visible line! The next day it is much darker. I am pregnant!! I'm not supposed to have tested yet (not until 16dpo) so I keep secretly testing for the next 6 days to see the line darken. It does darken, but I don't think enough, so I finally ring the clinic at 15dpo and confess to my testing. They do a blood test and my HCG is at 96. They are not confident and neither am I. Two days later it is 155 (it's supposed to double every two days). We keep testing every two days - 258, 346. I madly search the internet for success stories with slowly rising HCG levels. There are some and they give me a tiny bit of hope. Finally at 5 weeks 5 days, I have a scan. A sac and fetal pole should be visible by now and possibly a beating heart. There is nothing but a tiny sac, way too small. I am prescribed misoprostel to bring on a miscarriage and I start bleeding heavily two days later in early May 2010.
So this brings me to now, July. We've had a month off to recover from the last miscarriage and had more testing done to see if the FS could find any reason for our losses. Again, nothing found. We are doing another Frozen Embryo Transfer (FET) this month. I am pulling out all the stops and have started acupuncture and nasty tasting chinese herbs. My scan yesterday showed only a 5mm lining and no follicles yet developing. I am so impatient, I just want to get on with it. Hurry up body and grow a nice juicy lining and get ready to ovulate!
Life so far
I've been reading other peoples blogs for a while now and thought I might give it a go myself. I'm not sure why I want to, I haven't got a thrilling or exciting life to share with you all. I guess this is more for me. Somewhere to get my thoughts out of my head. Sometimes I feel like I don't have anywhere where I can truly express myself. I always temper what I'm saying depending on who I am speaking or writing to. Here, I am going to be selfish and write exactly what I like and not pretend for anyone. So this probably means that some days this will just be a whinging place for me, other days I will want to boast about something and other days I'll probably have nothing much to say at all.
Most of my posting will probably be about the thing in my life that is really sucky...my struggles with infertility. This is the main thing that takes up my thoughts each day.
I thought I'd start by telling you a bit about how I got to be where I am today. The following will probably bore your socks off, but I think my background has really shaped how I am today.
When I was growing up, I had my life all mapped out. I'd go to uni when I finished school, have some fun, get a lovely boyfriend, finish uni, get a great job, marry the lovely boyfriend, buy a house and then have two kids. By the age of 30 we'd be living comfortably - my wonderful husband, perfect childen and a dog or two.
Now back to reality. When I finished school I still wasn't completely convinced of the career I wanted. I um'd and ah'd and finally decided I'd be an architect. So off to uni I went. Only thing was, I wasn't that good at it and there was too much fun to be had. I like to do things I'm good at and wasn't used to being in the bottom half of the class. So after scraping through first year, I decided to defer for a year and have a bit of a think about if this was the right thing to be doing. In my year off I went on the dole, did a bit of casual work and had a lot of fun drinking way too much and generally being completely irresponsible. After my year of frivolity, back to uni I went and lasted about 6 weeks before chucking in the towel. My parents were disappointed in me. I was a bit disappointed in me too, but I was young, right? Heaps of time left to be sensible and knuckle down.
I spent another year having fun - boys, drinking and partying. By this time I was beginning to realise that I really had better get on with it. I was sick of being broke and felt like my brain was beginning to get a bit soggy. Decided on another career path and back to uni I went.
About this time I met a lovely sensible young man. He had a sensible well-paid job and owned a sensible car. I met him while he was on holidays in my city - he lived in Sydney, a couple of hours away on a plane. We started a whirlwind romance, with him flying in every 2 or 3 weeks to spend weekends with me. Three hours phonecalls every night and romantic love letters in the mail every few days. I decided he was The One and six months after meeting him, I pulled up roots, transferred uni's and moved to Sydney to be with him. Another six months later at age 23 we got married.
Living in Sydney wasn't all I expected it to be. I missed my friends and family terribly. I made some friends at uni, but we all lived so far apart that we hardly saw each other outside uni. I was also older than most of the others beacuse I'd stuffed around for a few years. We had "couple friends", mostly people my husband worked with and their wives/girlfriends.
I started getting clucky and we agreed that we'd start a family after I'd finished uni and worked for a year. We also planned to move back to my home town at the end of my degree. I finished uni and we both looked for jobs in my hometown. Nothing, hardly even anything either of us could apply for. Then, my husband was offered a promotion and I was offered a scholarship to do my PhD (both in Sydney). Without any other opportunities on the horizon, we decided I would do my PhD and he would take the promotion, then we would move to "back home" after I completed.
Three years passed where I tried to suppress my loudly ticking bodyclock and convince myself we'd made the right decision. I was writing up my PhD thesis when my husband finally got a job back home. It was a very exciting time! We sold our house and made the big move. We bought a lovely house and I set about finishing my PhD while working part-time in a coffee shop. Once my PhD was complete, I worked full-time in the coffee shop whileI looked and looked for a career job. Nothing, no one wanted me. I eventually got a base-grade government position.
I worked hard and quickly made my way through several promotions. Meanwhile I was desperate to start our family. My husband kept stalling, "just work one more year" and "let's just pay a bit more off the house" were some of the excuses. Eventually he said he was ready! We decided we'd start trying after our next holiday. I went off the pill and started taking pregnancy vitamins. Finally, it was going to happen!!
Two weeks before we were due to go on our big holiday, my husband sat me down and told me he was leaving me for someone else, a colleague. I was shocked to my very core. I didn't see it coming at all and thought that we were in a pretty good place in our relationship after almost 10 years of marriage. My world came tumbling down and I was close to suicidal for several weeks. He moved in with his new girlfriend to add salt to the wound. A month later he asked me to say we'd been split up for a year already so we could get a quick divorce and they could marry sooner. She didn't want to start a family until they we married!!
Eventually I pulled myself together and made a fresh start. After a while it was actually quite nice to be single again. I came to realise how unsuited we had been. I didn't have my own life as he didn't like me going out without him. He had treated me reasonably well, but was always trying to change me. In particular he was forever trying to make me lose weight. At the time, I thought it was for my benefit, but looking back I can see he was embarrased by me and I wasn't the beautiful, sexy wife on his arm that he wanted. His new love was a dancer - slim, graceful and always beautifully manicured.
I made the scary move of registering on an online dating site. Not something I ever thought I would do! I went on quite a few dates and met some nice guys (and some not-so-nice ones). No one special. I had decided I would give up on the online game when in a last ditch attempt I sent a message to nice-looking guy. He responded and we exchanged a couple of emails. We soon met up and that was the beginning of something very very special.
He brings out the best in me. He treats me like a princess and spoils me rotten. He is my best friend. He makes me feel like no one ever has before. He makes me feel beautiful and sexy. He loves me for who I am and never tries to change me. He is The One.
We met in December 2007. In February 2008 we moved in together. In May 2008 we started trying for a baby. We were married in August 2009. Yes, we moved very quickly, but we were just so sure we were meant to be together and didn't want to waste any more time. I truly believe that we will be together until one of us hops off the twig. I never knew love could be like this.
Most of my posting will probably be about the thing in my life that is really sucky...my struggles with infertility. This is the main thing that takes up my thoughts each day.
I thought I'd start by telling you a bit about how I got to be where I am today. The following will probably bore your socks off, but I think my background has really shaped how I am today.
When I was growing up, I had my life all mapped out. I'd go to uni when I finished school, have some fun, get a lovely boyfriend, finish uni, get a great job, marry the lovely boyfriend, buy a house and then have two kids. By the age of 30 we'd be living comfortably - my wonderful husband, perfect childen and a dog or two.
Now back to reality. When I finished school I still wasn't completely convinced of the career I wanted. I um'd and ah'd and finally decided I'd be an architect. So off to uni I went. Only thing was, I wasn't that good at it and there was too much fun to be had. I like to do things I'm good at and wasn't used to being in the bottom half of the class. So after scraping through first year, I decided to defer for a year and have a bit of a think about if this was the right thing to be doing. In my year off I went on the dole, did a bit of casual work and had a lot of fun drinking way too much and generally being completely irresponsible. After my year of frivolity, back to uni I went and lasted about 6 weeks before chucking in the towel. My parents were disappointed in me. I was a bit disappointed in me too, but I was young, right? Heaps of time left to be sensible and knuckle down.
I spent another year having fun - boys, drinking and partying. By this time I was beginning to realise that I really had better get on with it. I was sick of being broke and felt like my brain was beginning to get a bit soggy. Decided on another career path and back to uni I went.
About this time I met a lovely sensible young man. He had a sensible well-paid job and owned a sensible car. I met him while he was on holidays in my city - he lived in Sydney, a couple of hours away on a plane. We started a whirlwind romance, with him flying in every 2 or 3 weeks to spend weekends with me. Three hours phonecalls every night and romantic love letters in the mail every few days. I decided he was The One and six months after meeting him, I pulled up roots, transferred uni's and moved to Sydney to be with him. Another six months later at age 23 we got married.
Living in Sydney wasn't all I expected it to be. I missed my friends and family terribly. I made some friends at uni, but we all lived so far apart that we hardly saw each other outside uni. I was also older than most of the others beacuse I'd stuffed around for a few years. We had "couple friends", mostly people my husband worked with and their wives/girlfriends.
I started getting clucky and we agreed that we'd start a family after I'd finished uni and worked for a year. We also planned to move back to my home town at the end of my degree. I finished uni and we both looked for jobs in my hometown. Nothing, hardly even anything either of us could apply for. Then, my husband was offered a promotion and I was offered a scholarship to do my PhD (both in Sydney). Without any other opportunities on the horizon, we decided I would do my PhD and he would take the promotion, then we would move to "back home" after I completed.
Three years passed where I tried to suppress my loudly ticking bodyclock and convince myself we'd made the right decision. I was writing up my PhD thesis when my husband finally got a job back home. It was a very exciting time! We sold our house and made the big move. We bought a lovely house and I set about finishing my PhD while working part-time in a coffee shop. Once my PhD was complete, I worked full-time in the coffee shop whileI looked and looked for a career job. Nothing, no one wanted me. I eventually got a base-grade government position.
I worked hard and quickly made my way through several promotions. Meanwhile I was desperate to start our family. My husband kept stalling, "just work one more year" and "let's just pay a bit more off the house" were some of the excuses. Eventually he said he was ready! We decided we'd start trying after our next holiday. I went off the pill and started taking pregnancy vitamins. Finally, it was going to happen!!
Two weeks before we were due to go on our big holiday, my husband sat me down and told me he was leaving me for someone else, a colleague. I was shocked to my very core. I didn't see it coming at all and thought that we were in a pretty good place in our relationship after almost 10 years of marriage. My world came tumbling down and I was close to suicidal for several weeks. He moved in with his new girlfriend to add salt to the wound. A month later he asked me to say we'd been split up for a year already so we could get a quick divorce and they could marry sooner. She didn't want to start a family until they we married!!
Eventually I pulled myself together and made a fresh start. After a while it was actually quite nice to be single again. I came to realise how unsuited we had been. I didn't have my own life as he didn't like me going out without him. He had treated me reasonably well, but was always trying to change me. In particular he was forever trying to make me lose weight. At the time, I thought it was for my benefit, but looking back I can see he was embarrased by me and I wasn't the beautiful, sexy wife on his arm that he wanted. His new love was a dancer - slim, graceful and always beautifully manicured.
I made the scary move of registering on an online dating site. Not something I ever thought I would do! I went on quite a few dates and met some nice guys (and some not-so-nice ones). No one special. I had decided I would give up on the online game when in a last ditch attempt I sent a message to nice-looking guy. He responded and we exchanged a couple of emails. We soon met up and that was the beginning of something very very special.
He brings out the best in me. He treats me like a princess and spoils me rotten. He is my best friend. He makes me feel like no one ever has before. He makes me feel beautiful and sexy. He loves me for who I am and never tries to change me. He is The One.
We met in December 2007. In February 2008 we moved in together. In May 2008 we started trying for a baby. We were married in August 2009. Yes, we moved very quickly, but we were just so sure we were meant to be together and didn't want to waste any more time. I truly believe that we will be together until one of us hops off the twig. I never knew love could be like this.
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