Seriously...

...prodding buttock.

I may have just found the perfect motivational tool for 99% of my days.

I've just managed to spend an entire hour on the cross-trainer (assisted by the wondrous Lady Gaga), my legs now feel like jelly and I'm worried I may faint in the shower, but I did it.

My motivational tool is below:

This is the baby jacket that my darling sister brought me back from Canada in 2005. In fact she brought it back exactly six years ago last Monday (20th). Unfortunately that makes tomorrow exactly six years since I had my first miscarriage.

We've got an appointment with the specialist at New Cross next Tuesday. Hopefully we'll get a few questions answered and get a few pointers for the future.

But I'm thinking that making myself sad and angry so that I blast it with the cross-trainer until I fall over will be an excellent coping technique.

As for the other 1% of the time when it just makes me want to eat chocolate, hopefully the 99% will help counteract it!

Well...

...that was number 4.

A few of you might remember this post about history repeating. (If you don't, follow the link and read it).

Well it did.

The day after we got back from our lovely Lanzarote holiday I peed on a stick. And it told me that I'd probably be avoiding chocolate for 8 months or so.

Unfortunately last Tuesday there was another little bit of history that repeated itself.

Namely, this bit.

Once again we went for the first scan, and once again there was no heartbeat.
The plan then was to go back in the following Tuesday (tomorrow) for another scan, and then to be "surgically managed" on Wednesday. My body had other ideas and tomorrow's scan is now to check that it's done it all itself with no help from any doctors.

I have spent the last week in a bit of a fog, well to be honest a lot of a fog. Anthony is pretty much the same, he just doesn't know what to do with himself or how to help me. Therefore when he hasn't been at work he has been getting himself hooked on The Walking Dead or having mad organising sprees in the garden.

I have been lucky enough not to have to go into work (fat lot of use I'd have been there anyway) and have instead been blasting through some achievements on WoW.

This had its own side effect, the PC had a fatal error on Saturday morning and we had to go and buy a new one. But that's another post

However every terrible thing brings good things in its wake. In this instance it has brought postmen bearing chocolate gifts from fabulous people, it has had me giggling at links on Twitter posted by people trying to get me to smile, it also had me in tears with surprise when the person knocking at the front door turned out not to be a salesperson, but instead a Kayels bearing flowers and cupcakes.

These people are my real true blessings from this. The people who may not live just round the corner (and those that do and offered to post me bread through the letter box one slice at a time so as not to disturb me) but who are no less my friends because of their geographical distance.

You have all been real heroes this week, thank you so SO much.

I've suddenly realised...

...why 2010 has felt a bit weird.

Nothing has happened.

Well I mean, obviously things have happened, but nothing huge and life-changing.

I mean, let's go back a few years.

• 1999 - realised that the uni course I'd wanted to do for years, was not for me, so left uni.


• 2000 - split up with my uni-boyfriend, moved in with a friend who became a boyfriend, got dismissed from my job and had my first acknowledged episode of depression.


• 2001 - split up with James and moved home.


• 2002 - met The Yeti and moved 150 miles up to Wolverhampton with him after knowing him 3 months.


• 2003 - both my grandfather, and the eldest son of one of my mum's oldest friends died. (Granddad was a bit of a shock, George was a hell of a shock, he was only 28. Killed by a drunk driver.) Two days after finding out about Granddad and George, I tripped off a kerb and broke my arm.


• 2004 - The group of friends that I socialised with was split asunder by someone who we all trusted. While a few of them still see each other, I have hardly seen any of them since. (one of the reasons my social life is work folks, my ex-neighbour Angie, or Twitter folks).


• 2005 - I had a miscarriage the day before my wedding.


• 2006 - I have a second miscarriage. A week later, The Yeti left. Two months after that, I met Anthony.


• 2007 - My father died and I had to take a month off work over Christmas as I couldn't get out of bed.


• 2008 - Obvious repercussions at work at the beginning of the year. Miscarriage number three at the end of it.


• 2009 - Mum is told she has breast cancer (grade one, she's had the all-clear barring the 5 years of meds), the Monza trip, we buy a house.

See? There's been at least one huge event a year.

I mean, plenty has happened this year: tweet-ups, book signings, Anthony winning DotY again. But nothing super major life-changing.

I really do hope I'm not tempting fate here...

(unless it's a nice thing!)

This week I was supposed to have...

...four days at work before then having nine days off.

Then I got a letter from the hospital informing me that my appointment time had been changed AGAIN!

So I phoned them up and ranted a bit (and cried quite a lot) and the end result was that I could either take the new appointment time or wait until July for a new one.

So I then had long confabs with Anthony and with RichieFingers (who is a Rota God, seriously) and the end result is that Anthony and I will be at the hospital for our appointment time of 10.55.

I am stupidly scared and nervous. Although I know that it is very unlikely, my mind is already running through all of the worst-case scenarios that it can think of. The stupid thing is, even if one of them happens it won't have prepared me for it.

But we are prepared.

Anthony has Series 6 of Pokemon, I have Ashes to Ashes, Numb3rs, CSI:NY and Eleventh Hour (which I haven't seen any of yet, but it's got Rufus Sewell in it!) on the V+ box. Of course, we both have WoW for when the other one is watching TV.

I also have this:


It was in the Thornton's sale for £10 (from £30) and I couldn't just leave it sitting there...

Update: Home now. Got to see consultant a mere hour and 15 minutes after appointment time. Then she made me cry when she demanded to know why I wasn't currently taking folic acid.
Her - "But if you're trying to get pregnant you need to be taking it."
Me - "I'm not trying bloody anything til I know what went wrong last time, and that's what this appointment is for!"

The blood tests were all fine, the chromosome tests were also all fine. The only one that was slightly iffy was the blood protein one and so off I trooped to have some blood taken.

So basically, no idea what went wrong. But at the same time it's not a case of "give up, there's no chance".

Now I am going for chocolate egg and beer (the sun's past the yardarm) and since it's sunny I shall probably sit in the garden too.

It's been...

...a very strange two weeks.

Center Parcs was bloody brilliant. Lots of chilling out in the spa, lots of reading, far too much wine consumed on a couple of occasions - thoroughly good fun.

Anthony spent quite a lot of time playing with his new fancy camera, Brychan liberated Paris (Blazing Angels on the Wii), Emily had an argument with Professor Layton ("I put in 5 AGES ago and it told me it was wrong, BLOODY GAME!") and Mum got us all hooked on Tyrrell's crisps.

This week I have had a migraine. And that's about it. It started as a headache on Monday afternoon and progressed on Wednesday to me not being able to see out of my left eye and being sent home from work. Yesterday I slept pretty much all day and then today I've alternated between dozing on the sofa and sharing various woes with my lovely Twitter peeps.

The only thing that's been a constant for both weeks was an attack of the green eyed monster.

Well not really a monster, more a stab in the heart and lots of tears kind of monster.

The only problem with going to Center Parcs when it's not a school holiday is the other people who take that opportunity. Like the 17 million couples with babies/toddlers who seemed to make up the rest of the guests there. Oh there were a few older couples there too...but they all seemed to be there with their kids and grandchildren.

Babies are bloody everywhere at the moment and it's really bloody hard.

I was supposed to have had a doctors appointment last Tuesday to discuss my miscarriage. About a week after I got the original letter I got another one to say they had to change the appointment to April instead. At the time I was just glad that I was getting seen, now I'm sad that this means no baby for me in 2009.

I am looking after myself though. Any blogs I've been reading that have unbelievably adorable new babies on I have deleted from Google reader (not you Keris, for some reason reading about Joe is ok), I'm trying to avoid the updates on Facebook from the 8-9 old school friends who are either expecting or have just produced, and I've been avoiding watching anything on TV that could get to me.

CSI:NY clobbered me though. I knew there was an episode coming up where Lindsay told Danny she was pregnant, I didn't expect her to whip out an ultrasound photo to prove it.

My brain seems determined to protect me by making me feel that it didn't really happen. Same as with my dad I guess. Silly coping mechanisms. The one thing I wish I had done was get the ultrasound photo. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it would be proof that I got to that point for the first time.

Gonna stop now cos none of this is making any sense. Thank you for listening.

Third Strike...

...and I'm down but not out.

I haven't been blogging much recently because I've been absolutely wiped out with a combination of extreme tiredness and nausea. Also because the reason for the tiredness/nausea was really the only thing I wanted to blog about.

I didn't want to blog about it til after Christmas, until my birthday in fact.

Then I could announce the fantastically good news that I was expecting a baby in late June and then everything was going well.

And it was.

Right up until the point during my first scan yesterday when I was lying there looking at the screen and making out the shape of my baby and the ultrasoundographer (is that even a word) said sorry. She said she couldn't find a heartbeat.

So I'm afraid that instead of joining the many blogging friends and friends from school with happy baby announcements, once again I have to buck the trend and be the one with bad news.

I'm off to the hospital this afternoon for what is referred to as "surgical management". Anthony is here and proving yet again exactly why he is the Yeti's polar opposite.

You know what? Next year I'm going to have a bloody fabulous Christmas, cos last year and this one are just too pants to count.

And if anyone would like to buy me an early Christmas present? I'd like this please. *grin*

Love you xx