The Washcloth

AF Symptoms still looming over me… I got this e-mail (thanks Giselle!) this morning and thought it would be nice to break the suspense with a laugh:

The Washcloth
This has to be read, laughed at and passed on. There is not a woman alive today who won’t crack up over this!
I was due for an appointment with the gynaecologist later in the week. Early one morning, I received a call from the doctor’s office to tell me that I had been rescheduled for that morning at 9:30 am.
I had only just packed everyone off to work and school, and it was already around 8:45 am.
The trip to his office took about 35 minutes, so I didn’t have any time to spare.
As most women do, I like to take a little extra effort over hygiene when making such visits, but this time I wasn’t going to be able to make the full effort.
So, I rushed upstairs, threw off my pyjamas, wet the washcloth that was sitting next to the sink, and gave myself a quick wash in that area to make sure I was at least presentable.
I threw the washcloth in the clothes basket, donned some clothes, hopped in the car and raced to my appointment.
I was in the waiting room for only a few minutes when I was called in.
Knowing the procedure, as I’m sure you do, I hopped up on the table, looked over at the other side of the room and pretended that I was in Paris or some other place a million miles away.
I was a little surprised when the doctor said, “My, we have made an extra effort this morning, haven’t we?”
I didn’t respond.
After the appointment, I heaved a sigh of relief and went home. The rest of the day was normal . Some shopping, cleaning, cooking.
After school when my 6 year old daughter was playing, she called out from the bathroom, “Mommy, where’s my washcloth?”
I told her to get another one from the cupboard.
She replied, “No, I need the one that was here by the sink, it had all my glitter and sparkles saved inside it.”
NEVER going back to that doctor ever!!

Will keep you updated on “the other thing” as the day unfolds.



I am so scared. You have no idea. I have been getting AF cramps since last night. I expected to be crying into a cappuccino by now.

It could be the progesterone. I have heard it delays AF. I haven’t had the slightest tinge of her. Going to pee is becoming a nightmare. I sit there, close my eyes for a while, sigh, and slowly check. First in the loo, then the loo paper. Nothing. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Or go and pour myself a stiff drink. (I know this is HIGHLY personal info, but what about IF isn’t?)

Thinking of getting a POAS (pee-on-a-stick, for non IF’s) I am terrified of those things. As I type this I am feeling really shaky. This is the worst place to be.

Fat Lady Warming Up Her Vocals

Honestly… I feel a little PMS coming on.

My breasts are feeling a little tender, and my lower back is starting to ache: classic symptoms of AF for me. *sigh* I am trying to remain neutral until I know for sure, but we all know how easy that is!

I am deeply sorry for Debbie, who got a BFN yesterday. There is nothing that can be said, that can take away the feeling of emptiness and disappointment when that happens. There has been so much good news in the blogs lately, and we all hope to be a part of that, too. Sadly though, whilst some of us will move on to happier times, some will inevitably have to stay behind and continue to struggle against the odds.

When I started reading other people’s blogs, and sharing in their disappointment, I would often try to give an upbeat, positive message to those people, thinking that it would make them feel better. (Yes, I am a Stage 6 NTI – Baby Dust -kinda gal). Silly me, there is nothing positive about a Big Fat Negative. All that people really want is support: a thoughtful comment, mail or sms; a small bunch of flowers or any other kind gesture; or just a hug. Plain and simple: acknowledgement of their loss.
I know what you’re thinking, “How can they grieve a loss when they never had anything to begin with?” Believe me, when you are staring down the barrel of a BFN, it is with an overwhelming sense of having lost something. I cried like my heart would break with my last failed IUI. (And I don’t cry easily.) It’s just that you pour your heart and soul into the process, you allow yourself to “breathe out” and feel a little hopeful again. You imagine how you will tell people, you imagine their delighted reactions. You dream about holding your baby close to your heart and feeling that love welling up inside that everyone tells you about. It’s a massive investment of yourself, and when it crashes, the repercussions are great.

At the aforementioned 21st birthday party, I failed to mention that there was a 6 month old baby there. He was the most adorable little thing, cute as a button, really. BUT: I could not for the life of me spend more than 5 minutes around him without a feeling of absolute despair setting in. I avoided being near him or his mother (21). I watched from across the room as people handed him around, playing with him and making him smile. I felt such a heavy weight bearing down on me. Without realising it, I have avoided babies and all things baby related for so long, that I am not even sure what it is that I want so badly anymore. All I know is that the ache won’t go away until I have it.

So I am still here, waiting patiently for my own result. You’ll be happy to know that I have not given up on this cycle. Yet.

Teetering on The Edge

I’ll admit I have been rambling on a bit… You caught me! It is a vain attempt at keeping my mind off the AF cramps and lower backache I am so familiar with by now.
Going to the toilet is becoming a nightmare, as I am expecting scarey Aunt Flow to jump out and strangle me any second. And whilst this post may seem quite light-hearted and up-beat, inside I am teetering on the edge of sanity. My eyes are cock-eyed from all the other blogs I have been reading in an effort to ignore my own looming BFN. Good luck to Faith, Baby Blues, Bea, Smarshy, and all the other hopefuls out there.
I was about to go and slit my wrists with a blunt spoon this morning when a mail popped into my box which, I daresay, saved my sorry ass. It said the following:


Everything that is going wrong in your life today shall be well with you this year. No matter how much your enemies try this year, “they will not” succeed. You have been destined to make it and you shall surely achieve all your goals this year. For the remaining months of this year (2007), all your agonies will be diverted and victory and prosperity will be incoming in abundance. Today God has confirmed the end of your sufferings sorrows and pains because HE that sits on the throne has remembered you. He has taken away the hardships and given you JOY. He will never let you down. I knocked at heaven’s door this morning, God asked me… My child! What can I do for you? And I said, “Father, please protect and bless the person reading this message”… God smiled and answered…Request granted.

Thank you Cheldene, you will will never know how much this precious little piece of SPAM meant to me. It was just what the doctor ordered. I was about 2 seconds away from giving up hope.

Still no AF yet, still have all the symptoms thereof, so watch this space. Any words of encouragement at this point would be greatly appreciated.