Light-bulb!

I have slept soundly for the last two nights.  Don’t ask me what has changed.  Maybe my body gave up after 3 weeks of not sleeping.  Needless to say I am feeling immensely better.  I feel human again.

I went cycling at Kyalami Race Track twice last week, maybe that had something to do with it.  I have also realised why I have been feeling so down and out.  Not being able to conceive is something we have very little control over.  Getting a BFN is not something we can change, what’s done is done.

The thing is that in the past, I have found control in other ways.  I had my business to run, over which I had a lot of control.  Now I work for a boss, and have very little say in what I do day to day.  I have not been excercising, another way I used to have control.  I guess maybe going to the track and getting onto my bicycle again has empowered me in a way.  I feel like I can be as healthy or unhealthy as I choose.  I may not have any say at work, or with childbearing matters, but I can take charge of my life in other ways.  I can choose to be happy or sad, lazy or motivated, fit or unfit, fat or thin, positive or negative.  I said to the Hoff the other day that I did not feel like the master of my own destiny – I felt like destiny was dragging me around by my short and curlys.  That was a choice too. (I think I may be having a “light-bulb” moment!)

Hmmm, maybe that is what has changed.  You see?  Blogging is better than therapy.

(Just promise me that when destiny starts dragging me around again, you will direct me back to this post)  🙂

Shootin’ up a storm

So after a seemingly never-ending round of BCP’s, September 18th finally rolled around. And it was over with in a heartbeat.

I went in. Spoke to the nurse. She stabbed me in the stomach and charged me R900 for more of the same! I was feeling a bit weird after the first Lucrin shot, and got this disgustingly bitter taste in my mouth, but other than that, nothing major. Today I actually felt fantastic… until about six o’clock. That’s when the headache set in, and it is here to stay.

So far I am feeling quite good, not exactly optimistic, but not entirely pessimistic, either. I am trying to keep positive, but very scared to let hope in the door. Yes, I have started daydreaming again… Picturing myself in the mirror, rubbing my swollen tummy… laying under the trees on a picnic blanky with “The Embryo That Could”. (Okay, that was a bit weird! But you get my meaning…) At the same time I realise how very dangerous this type of thinking can be. Damnit.

Also, I have been keeping up with my mandatory 50 gajillion litres of water per day, and I must tell you that my skin is definitely thanking me. My bladder is using abusive four lettered hate words. It is a good kick start on the whole “living more healthily” angle that I have ranted about in the recent past. Plus the nurse says it gives my ovaries a fighting chance. And I’m all for that!

I still have to post the obligatory show of needles, but I am too tired and headachey to lay them all out, so you may just get a photo of the bucket which they came in 🙂 Oh, all right, I’ll lay them out all fancy! Don’t beg! It’s actually not that impressive because I don’t have the Menopur shots yet, so this will be like a preview, really. (Watch this space)

From the not-so-secret Garden, that’s all I have to report right now. You know what they say: “No news is good news.”

New Beginnings

Thank you for making me smile with your comments on my last post. 🙂

After a quiet weekend, lazing in bed, I am good to go. Still walking like a geriatric, but other than that I am “strong like bull”! In body and mind. As I lay in bed, navigating through the many movies I had recorded for later viewing pleasure, something struck me.

At the beginning of this year I threw myself into the fertility treatment full force. I had made a decision that I would be pregnant this year if it just about killed me. At this point, everything else came to a grinding halt. Why not, I told myself, this had to work, I would be pregnant soon, and then I would carry on with everything else…
Fast forward eight months: Picture me, lying in bed, my insides stitched closed, moving around is a chore, breathing is laboured, and I feel like I have been hit by a truck. I have not been eating properly or exercising; I look thirty something and feel ninety-something.

And that’s when it struck me. I have been taking my health for granted. I have been filling my body with all sorts of destructive niceties (cake, fudge, chocolate, sweets, copious amounts of fast food) and have done ZERO exercise since January. My body, in the meantime – which should be my temple – had turned into a giant pile of mush. For the first time in my life I had to go out and buy a size bigger because my clothes no longer fit me. I have never owned “fat” clothes… until now… I feverishly started to make all sorts of “post op resolutions”. When I’m well again, I’ll start cycling and walking and eating healthily and drinking more water….

You see, on any normal day, (when I haven’t had surgery of any kind) I am a pretty mobile person. I can run, jump, skip, dance and work. I can breathe easily, sing out loud and drive myself anywhere anytime. I don’t want to take advantage of these luxuries. I want to preserve my health into my pregnancy and beyond it, well into my twilight years. I want to run and play with my child(ren) and hopefully one day grandchildren. That is entirely up to me and depends on how look after myself now.

So with that said – who has some good salad ideas?