The Obligatory End of Year Post

Ahhhhh......the tail end of 2006. It was the best of times....it was the worst of times....

Actually, it really wasn't the worst of times. Reflecting back on the year, I'd have to say it was pretty good overall. We have become very skilled at living in and appreciating the moment - one day at a time.

So...the year in review.....

• We've become stronger as a couple.
• I've made and acted upon my decisions to become healthier in all domains of my life.
• I have assertively dealt with the bullshit at work and had myself moved out of the unhealthy position I was placed in, so that makes my work life much happier.
• I joined and have successfully worked a weight loss program, and am now only 19 lbs away from my goal.
• HB and I are working out four to five times a week together - accomplishing two things at once - me actually getting to the gym and spending time with my awesome husband.
• I am officially half way through the master's program I began in January 2006, and thus far have a straight A average.
• We've spent more time with family and friends this year, and plan to continue to make that a priority.

So all in all, not bad. Not bad at all. May sucked with having to make the decision to put Big Dawg to sleep. Then there was the whole miscarriage in October thing. But even that seemed to have a lesson in it for us. I feel pretty confident now that I don't want to get pregnant again, and also pretty confident that we are exactly where we are intended to be with parenting. I believe we are meant to be here for Frodo and Mini-Me ... something big feels like it's brewing there. And I'm very ok with it all.

And as for our houseguest? HB and I had decided that we were going to ask her to give us a few days here by ourselves when she returned on the 28th, and also that we were going to have a conversation about what her plans were for January and beyond. We rehearsed and practiced - encouraging each other to feel ok but not enabling her to avoid dealing with the real world any longer. HB broached the subject with her when she arrived back here that evening, and her response was simply that she didn't want to talk about it. He told her that he was giving her fair warning that the conversation would indeed take place in a few days.

We left the house at about 9:30 a.m. the next day and she was still in bed. When we got home in the afternoon, there was a card on the kitchen table that had the precise amount of money we had given to her for her airline ticket (which we had intended as a Christmas gift), along with a note. The note basically said that she hoped we didn't think she wasn't appreciative of everything, and that she was giving us some time alone. At first we thought, "how nice". Then we realized that she had packed up every one of her belongings and simply left. We figured out that she is another sister's but there has been no contact at all with us. She still has our housekey, we're not sure what her plans are at all, and we've been denied the opportunity of a discussion with her about it. I just hope she isn't planning to simply waltz back in here now.

It bothers me that she just left like that with no chance for us to talk about what our thoughts were. Who knows what she's thinking or feeling about the whole situation. HB tells me not to worry about it - that she this behaviour is passive-aggressive and this is just another way of her avoiding confrontation....even though we had no intention of being confrontational. We just knew that we had to have a discussion that would have an end date attached to it. It was starting to take too large a toll on us to have a third party in our home and in our marriage all the time.

Another lesson learned in 2006 - HB and I are totally an old married couple now! We understand each other's needs and wants so well we don't even have to talk about it, and when the apple cart is upset, ain't no one happy! Is it bad to be that set in our ways?

So....tonight we will travel up to my parents' place and hang out with them for the new year's celebration. We'll eat chinese food and play silly games. We'll watch my father and HB love each other up and laugh at them together. And we will be thankful for yet another year together, happy, healthy, in love with life and each other.

Happy new year to you.

About that fish?

We finally have our house to ourselves - if even for a few days! Our perpetual company went back to her family for the holidays. Her ticket was our Christmas gift. Oh yeah, it was a gift to her too!

Even HB had to admit that the constant presence was beginning to drain him. His way of relaxing is to hang out on the couch in the living room and watch continuous Star Trek with no one .... I repeat no one speaking to him for a few hours. He has a little ritual. He hasn't been able to engage in that ritual since August.

Needless to say, we are enjoying doing some of the things we haven't been able to do since August. We went out to dinner by ourselves. We went to the theatre. We got up early and sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee and not saying a word to each other. He watched Star Trek until his ears got pointy today.

She's scheduled to come back on the 28th, but HB and I have had enough conversation now to know that we have to set some boundaries. Among those boundaries are some pretty basic things like, let's see:

• buy your own shaving cream and do not use my razor
• if you're not going to pay rent, then at least begin to kick in on the groceries once in a while
• there's a tv in your room - let us introduce you to it
• if you're home doing nothing all day, stop it and look for a job!

And most importantly, we're going to have the discussion about how long she plans to stay. We never intended this to be a semi-permanent thing. I have been feeling fairly unChristian about this whole thing, and that's no good. You know that whole my castle is your castle thing? I don't think it was meant for a small semi-detached castle that already has two adults, two growing kids and two very large dawgs in it.

In other news ... still going to the gym and loving it. I'm down 25 lbs as of last week, and loving that! Successfully finished up another semester in the graduate program and completed two exams this past week. Also hosted a full Christmas dinner for 10 people last weekend, got the tree bought, put up and decorated - all in one day.

I'm almost Martha Frickin' Stewart these days.

Keep the change

Today was my mother's 76th birthday. They live about an hour from us, and we don't see them nearly often enough. We drove up today to spend the day with them, and loved every minute of it. We always do. In truth, I think I've married my father. HB is a younger version of Dad. They are like two little boys when they get together - laughing and telling jokes, carrying on. They just bring out the best in each other, and I love to watch it.

There is a part of me that is terrified at the thought of losing my parents. They are both getting so old and it seems to be happening too quickly for me. They have both really aged since my brother's death in 1999 - that was an emotional aging. The kind of aging we're seeing now is totally related to chronological aging. Mom is getting very forgetful. We tease her about it, and she teases herself about it, but it's so hard to watch.

I know that we all face it. The people who were so strong, so sure, so confident, so loving to us are becoming old and preparing themselves to leave this world. I want to drink in every moment with them. I want to remember the good times, and honour them by being the woman they raised me to be. I want to create more good times with them.

My sister suggested that we have Christmas dinner at her house this year and thankfully, no one picked up on it. We're still going to go to Mom and Dad's and do our usual family thing there. Mom doesn't do as much as she used to anymore, by design. She cooks the turkey and supplies dessert. We bring everything else to cut down on the work and to avoid exhausting her. So I'm sure my sister thought she was making a good suggestion - but I'm not ready for that change yet.

I want my little world to stay the way it is for now. I want to keep my head in the sand and pretend that it will always be this way. Just let me stay there for a while longer.

Amazing Myself

So....I joined a gym.

And I love it.

I joined because HB is a big fitness nut, and we were looking for some way to increase our time together. I've been on a weight loss program since July, temporarily stalled when I was pregnant. I've lost 20 lbs in total since joining, but knew that sooner or later, I was going to have to introduce some exercise.

I hate exercise.

Have always hated exercise.

Did I mention how surprised I am, therefore, that I love going to the gym?

I never cease to amaze myself!

Blessed are they....

I've had to tell nine people that I am no longer pregnant this week. Nine people! And those are always the hardest ones to tell, because they get the whole face crumple look going, and then I end up comforting them, doing the "of course, how could you have known?" thing.

Well, part of how perhaps they could tell is that by now, I would have been 18 weeks pregnant. I know I'm overweight, but I did hit the 20 lb loss mark this week. I'm tucking my shirts into my jeans again. I'm into my jeans again! That's a stand alone statement right there. I do not look like a woman who is 18 weeks pregnant right now.

HB's band played this weekend. One of the other guys in the band is married to one of the most delightful, wickedly funny women I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Any time we get together is a fun time - she's one of those dance like no one's watching chicks. I love her. This weekend was no exception. In fact, even though I don't drink, she and I got into Cosmopolitans in fancy martini glasses Friday night. I couldn't figure out what was going on with my tongue Saturday morning as I dragged my arse out of bed at way too early to go to a meeting. First time in years I've had to deal with a hangover. Made me remember why I don't drink actually.

Our Sunday was intended to be a full day of rest. Both of us are exhausted, and had even decided to skip Mass this morning. That plan was waylaid by the hot water heater. It gave up the ghost, but not before leaking all night long. Under the sub floor and stairs and into the rec room where the perpetual guest is currently living. So this morning was spent completely cleaning out the basement, pulling up carpet, and replacing the hot water heater.

Luckily for us, one of the guys that plays in the band with HB is a plumber. In fact, he's a famous plumber. His picture has made the rounds on the internet many times since he decided to do this to his truck.

Anyhow, he came over mid morning and installed the new one for us. We are very fortunate to have friends like him. Now we will need to lay new flooring in the rec room, making it the nicest room in our whole home. Ironically we were just approved for a consolidation loan on Friday, completely clearing up our line of credit and credit cards, so we have room to deal with this issue. As we were mopping up this morning, someone made a reference to Katrina victims, and it knocked it totally into perspective for me. Yes, I'm tired but this is a minor inconvenience that is actually going to result in us finally getting to a renovation we intended to do all the time anyhow. We are blessed with a nice home, good friends, family, health and happiness. Life at Casa Dawgs - I like it. I think I'll keep it.

We will survive.....

anything in this marriage. Of that I am now certain.

We have survived and thrived through:

• addiction
• loss of faith
• five miscarriages
• deaths
• physical injuries
• job problems
• weight gain
• weight loss
• family members living with us
• a psycho ex-wife from hell
• blending a family

and now.....painting. In case I have never mentioned it before, HB is a perfectionist. And apparently, much to my shock and surprise, I am not. I am not great at cutting in, rolling, or keeping the coloured paint off the ceiling or trim (picky picky picky people). I am, however, very good at painting closets, which is great because that's where I spent the last hour of our painting excursion. In the walk in with the door closed and my cup of Tim Horton's, sitting on the floor, pretending I was cutting in for the final coat.

And to his credit, when HB told me he couldn't help it, that he had to put on two more coats over my first rolled coat, he said "please don't ever forget that you live with a perfectionist who always ends up pissing and moaning his way into doing all the work himself because no one can live up to my standards, so this is NOT about you, ok?".

He then proceeded to take the blame for every splotch of Sudan Sand that was on the ceiling and/or the baseboard trim. And made me love him even more, if that's possible.

It helps immensely that SIL (I am going to have to nickname her here soon) took the cues this week, packed a bag and went out to their other sister's place for the weekend. We all needed the break from each other.

Now excuse me while I go love up my husband.

Fish and Dawgs

It's been an interesting and sometimes rough few weeks here at Casa Dawg. HB's sister is still living here with us, and it looks like it might be for a while longer. She is taking ownership of an interesting and new franchise here in our area, and just this week, her loans were partially approved.

Her husband and kids are in their home province, but have the house on the market and will likely join her. Not in our basement, mind you!

In the meantime she is here. Although I've often joked that I would love to have a wife, I have to tell you it's highly overrated.

Our schedule is such that we often don't get around to eating supper until about 7 p.m. here. But since she's home, she prepares supper in the early afternoon. Now HB is a teacher so he can manage to get home by 4 or 4:30 if he wants to do so. I, on the other hand, don't technically finish work until 4:30 or 5:00, and then have a 45 minute drive through traffic. I also have at least one, sometimes two, errand stops on the way home, given that we live outside the city and away from most services like grocery, retail, etc.

You get the picture. I get home - the dishes are done, they've both eaten, and whatever she's cooked is sitting cold and dried up for my supper, which I eat alone.

That is just one example. I love her but as someone said in reply to an earlier post about this very topic (remember - she joined us here in August and left to go home for three weeks only), company is a lot like fish. I totally get that now!

We hit the wall over the past few days. I am generally one of the most easy going people you will ever meet, but I turned into Holy Hannah from Hell this week! HB and I had one of the most spectacular fights that will ever be witnessed in this house - complete with slamming doors, yelling, and mucho cursing. The kids were here to witness it. The dawgs were here. And the SIL was here.

It worked itself out, but resurfaced on Monday morning. I was in the shower and not once, but twice, the water went on me. Once due to a toilet flush and once due to a kettle being filled for tea. We have a cardinal rule in this house. Do. Not. Flush. When. The. Shower. Is. Running.

Just Don't.

I thumped and screeched, and when I came downstairs to get my coffee, asked which of them would like to get in the shower next so I could return the favour....and we were off to the races again!

I left the house storming that morning, driving to work mentally pushing pins into the matching brother and sister voodoo dolls I had created. The phone rang. It's HB. Telling me he's sorry, it's out of control, and that he loves me. I begin to cry at the stupidity of it all.

We had dinner alone together Monday night and had a great, healing talk. We are both still grieving, and haven't been allowing ourselves to do so. We haven't allowed ourselves a minute to breathe, let alone grieve.

We have made a pact to one night per week, alone together, as a priority. And I have told him that there are things he has to tell his sister - I know they don't bother him but they do bother me and I can't say them to her. Right or wrong, woosy or whatever - I'm not doing it and he is. And he agrees that he can start by modelling respect for me around here and her - by demonstrating that I have a very important place in his life and in our home, and that she is not the wife.

So it's been a better week, but the road getting here sucked.

In the meantime, Anna Banana is doing well. Training up alright - although she has behaviours we're not used to dealing with as we haven't had to in so long - like chewing. It's just puppy behaviour, but it takes some readjustment. Plus the fact that she's choosing to chew on HB's old running shoes, which does not make her breath the sweetest!

Here she is:

Standing at the door - remember she's 10 months old!

I'm Baaaaack

I went back to work on Monday. What a weird experience. I've been on assignment in another program area for over a year now, and it has not been a great experience. Interesting that this assignment is with an all women team, and yet only one actually came up to me and dealt with the miscarriage face on. The rest, including the team lead, didn't even say welcome back, I'm sorry, kiss my arse ... nothing.

My home team, which is primarily made up of men, sang a whole different tune. I was greeted warmly, welcomed back, asked how I was doing, and offered appropriate words of condolence.

Now - I have not been enjoying this assignment, and when it seemed (just for a nano second of insanity) that I might be leaving on a maternity leave at some point in the not too distant future, I went to my former team lead to ask how to go about securing my real job as the one that I would be returning to after the maternity leave. He suggested that we make a move to have me actually finish up the assignment now, so that I would be leaving from my home program area, and therefore returning to my home program area at the end of the maternity leave.

Well, we all know what happened to the need for said maternity leave. However, when I returned to work on Monday, my home program team lead came up to me and told me that I was still welcome to come back right away if I wanted.

If I wanted? I could have kissed that man! Not only had he dealt with all the senior administration about ending my current assignment, he found me an office (an OFFICE...no more cubicle dwelling!) and provided me with a carefully thought out description of the new assignment upon which I will be working. And it all starts on November 1st. November 1st! TWO more days in that other assignment!

I actually quite enjoyed the team and the team lead on this other assignment, and the work was very good work. There was just a huge communication issue about what the intended outcomes of the project I was working on were to be - and consequently I would file reports that no one would read, but everyone wanted results. I have to take responsibility for some of what happened, and have done so, but I'm really just wanting it to end. I am not feeling productive, challenged, stimulated or part of a team. I'm keen to go back to my program division, and to reunite with my home team.

I have also taken to treating myself to regular therapeutic massage. La-ti-da! We switched our health plan coverage from my work to HB's work plan, and part of his benefit package provides for 20 massages per 12 month period. That's one every three weeks, if you're counting, which I was indeed doing. But first, I had to use up the four remaining massages that were available under my plan! So I have been having a weekly massage since the miscarriage.

And as for Anna Banana? She is amazing. In no physical way could a person consider this 90 lb beauty a pup, but she is indeed a pup. She is almost scarey smart - trains so quickly. We adore her.



I had gained 4 lbs during the pregnancy. I went back to my weight loss program almost immediately after the miscarriage, and had only kept one of those pounds. That plus four more are now already gone. I'm on a roll - I feel healthy and in control.

So all in all, life is good here. One day at a time, and no more talk of babies. Not doing anything to actively prevent it - but I have a feeling that I don't have to worry about that anyhow. Now if I can just stay away from the Halloween chocolate bars this weekend, my life will be perfect.

Beating the odds

I live on a small cul de sac. There are precisely twelve duplexes (or semis as we call them) on this cul de sac. Three of the women who live in these twelve duplexes are newly pregnant. One of these women lives in the other side of our house. She had loaned me a book on pregnancy when we shared our news with her. Yesterday I propped that book, along with a gift card that I had "earned" from a local maternity clothing store the day I went on my optimistically stupid shopping trip, in between her two doors. I know the statistics for healthy pregnancies. Please let all three of these women beat the odds. Please. Is that too much to ask?

And now onto something completely different and totally awesome! Take a gander at the wee one that will be joining our happy crew here as of tomorrow at around lunch time:


Her name is Anna, and she is only five months old in this picture, which was taken in May 2006. She is in her 10th month now and from what I am told by my sister in law, who is bravely driving her from Newfoundland in her little car, is a real piece of work. Reminiscent of our Barkley boy.

I believe she will have to be christened Anna Chiquita Banana. Anna is far too formal.

What if?

I've been debating about whether to blog about my mind quandry or not - but then realized that to not blog about it is to deny myself the true avenue this blog is intended to be for me.

HB and I consider ourselves to be people of great faith. We believe in God, and believe that God will not give us any more than we can handle. Some people call it fate; others call it destiny. For us, what happens in our lives that is out of our control is what we call part of God's plan for us.

We have always chosen to believe that our recurrent miscarriages are part of God's plan for us. And not in a "you guys are awful and don't deserve to have children" kind of way. I have been actually been feeling some guilt because I think I'm not feeling sad enough about this loss. When I expressed that to HB the other day, he told me that he believes I'm more at peace with this baby's death because I have indeed been asking to know God's will for me, and more importantly, to be able to accept God's will for me. And I do believe that had this baby been born, it might have been more than we could have handled - and God's plan says we're only going to be given what He knows we can handle.

So that faith and trust helps us to deal with this current loss.

But therein also lies my quandry.

I'm soon going to be 44 years of age, and had pretty much come to grips with the fact that I was not going to be pregnant or a biological mother....and I was starting to be pretty ok with that reality. Then this unexpected pregnancy comes along - which tells me that my body is still capable of conceiving, and who knows, maybe even capable of actually carrying to term. So if HB and I continue in our usual ways (and I do love continuing in our usual ways....hehehe), there is a possibility of conceiving again unless one of us either deals with it surgically or we decide to practice some form of birth control.

I have no qualms at all with ignoring the man made laws of the Catholic Church when it comes to birth control, so I'm probably one of those hypocritical Catholics that people love to talk about. I am a Catholic because my parents are Catholic. There are many things about Catholicism that I disagree with, and many traditions and beliefs of the Catholic faith that I love and in which I take great comfort. I am first and foremost a Christian. I believe that if I get up every day and live my life the way that God calls me to live - and use Christ as my human example of what that call is - then I am living out my baptismal promise here on earth even if I never step forth in a formal church again. It's more important to me to be church in the real world - the world in which I live every day - and be straight in my relationship with the God of my understanding, then it is to be known as someone who was a good Catholic.

If I believe that God has a plan for me, and I believe that God won't send us more than we can handle, then I really don't see how I can mess with His plan by using birth control of any kind. If I'm not intended to be a biological mother, I will not be ... whether that's through never conceiving again, or continuing to conceive and miscarry. But what if....just maybe....we are intended to conceive and give birth to the person who is going to bring about world peace? Or who is going to save a life someday? Or is going to have even just one gift to share with this world? What if? Is it our place to alter that plan by using birth control?

The human and the woman in me kicks in and tells me that I could not go through yet another miscarriage. That I am too old to be a mother now. That my life is good just the way it is.

And then I go back to the what if scenario.

The bloody aftermath

Saturday sucked. I knew that things were starting when I got up, but because all of our previous miscarriages were either so early that it was more like a heavy period, or so late that a d&c was required, I had no idea what to expect with this one.

So we got up, got dressed and headed to the rink to watch Frodo play hockey. I got about 30 minutes into it and realized that I needed to get out of the rink. I waited in the truck while they finished up, and got home just in time.

I spent the day between the washroom, bathtub and bed. The pain was beyond my expectations. I got relief when I was hanging off the edge of the bed, throwing up into the garbage can and HB was rubbing my lower back. Of course, being the arse that I am, I had turned down pain medication at the ER the day before because I wasn't in pain. I've never been known for my foresight.

I actually don't remember a whole lot about Saturday. HB said he called the duty doctor at one point because I was feverish and he thought that the pain just seemed to be too severe. He has always marvelled at my high pain threshold, so for him to say he felt it was too severe, it must have been bad. I don't feel like too much of a wimp anyhow - so even if it wasn't that severe, I love him for saying it. We decided to wait it out here at home instead of taking the duty doctor's advice to go to emergency. I couldn't imagine going through that in an emergency room waiting area, and although it sucked, I'm glad we stayed at home.

HB got me some gravol, and six tabs later, I got to sleep.

And basically slept until Sunday.

Figuring it was over with, we got dressed - me somewhat shakily - and went to Mass. Then we got in the truck and drove an hour to my parents' place for Thanksgiving dinner. I hadn't eaten since Saturday morning, and didn't have a big bunch to eat that night, but did get some turkey and veggies into me. After supper, I was in the washroom, washing my hands, when all of a sudden I felt as if I was peeing myself. I got onto the toilet just barely in time. I can't remember ever having seen that much blood before - it terrified me. That has happened two more times since. No warning - just a woosh and there it is.

I've been put off work for the week, and am being referred over to the early pregnancy complications clinic to see if a d&c is required.

I'm glad to be off work. I don't feel like facing people at all right now. I think it's hitting HB hard today. We were talking last night - this whole roller coaster ride of whether we can have kids or not have kids is taking a toll. We had both just adjusted to the thought of a very cool life with just Frodo and Mini-Me, whom we get to send away to their mother, giving us a good dose of adult time and activities, when this baby came along. Swing back quickly to adjusting to another plan for life. And then just as quickly, that is stolen from you.

He's been such a rock. I want to be a rock for him now - and let him know that we are going to be ok. I hope I can help him to believe that's the truth.

So Much For That

Spots turned to clots this morning. I went to emergency at 11:30 a.m. Had an ultrasound at 2:30 that told us the baby had not grown and was not viable. They sent me home at 4:00 p.m. to pass it, with instructions to come back if it got too bad.

HB and the kids were all with me, and we'll hang out together this weekend. This Thanksgiving weekend. I'm going to try really hard to find some things to be grateful for.

Back from Bowston

We had a great time in Boston. HB and I were attending a conference together, which is a rarity, and got to stay in an awesome hotel which was close to some great shops which although I'd never buy from, I had a whale of a time touching stuff in. I touched purses that went for $600, shoes that were $800, jackets that were $2500 ... you get the picture.

We walked and walked and walked. I had my first trip on a subway. In short, we had a great time. The only downside was a teensy bit of spotting on Wednesday after we finished all our walking around - HB figures we clocked about 15 miles yesterday.

So onto the doctor's appointment today. I was straight up with her about all my fears due to symptoms coming and going. She's so cool. Basically she said what all of you have said. Each pregnancy is different. Many people have no symptoms at all. She then went on to tell me that she was willing to send me for another ultrasound if I wanted, and that she would listen with the doppler today but only if I understood that there was a good chance we still might not hear a heartbeat today - and that not hearing a heartbeat today meant nothing at all since I'm just 11 weeks.

We did listen with the doppler. There was a lot of noise, and twice she thought she heard something but couldn't get enough behind my pelvic bone to get to it fully. HB also thought he heard something at both those times.

She told me that walking all the distance could tilt my cervix slightly, causing a little spotting. She then told me to go home, get off my feet and nap.

We've decided to go for the nuchal fold and maternal serum testing, along with the early ultrasound. We're going to wait until the 19th for the ultrasound, but she has told me that I can call her at any time if I want more. She said I'm in for a lot of ultrasounds anyhow during this pregnancy. I've gained 4 lbs so not bad - especially after a week of eating magnificent meals and desserts!

So basically, everything is fine. I'm tired after the trip and we're headed into a busy Thanksgiving weekend. I have a truckload of studying to get caught up on, and the kids are coming over tomorrow. The great part is that HB is all about me lying down whenever I want to, and I got enough lectures today from both Dr. H and HB to realize that saying I need to lay down does not equal being lazy right now.

I could get used to that.

A Poacher Named Hope

I have decided to leave my head partially in the sand for now. I was truly just having a bad day I think. I've worked so hard to remain positive and stress free, and that just wasn't happening the other day - thus the ostrich post.

Having said that, I got up on Wednesday morning and was going about my morning routine of showering when I was overcome with a coughing fit that left me hanging over the toilet wretching. I have been fairly congested throughout this pregnancy thus far ... something I do remember from my first pregnancy. Without wandering too far into the zone of too much information, the congestion builds up, eventually makes me throw up, and is for me, one of the sure pregnancy symptoms I get.

If anyone had been peeping in our windows that morning, they would have thought us totally wonked. HB is sending me off to work with a kiss and a cheery "hope you throw up all day hon", and I'm smiling weakly back saying "thanks...me too". Yep. Wonked.

So despite all the good advice (seriously...thank you all so much for the suggestions and comments...every one of them), I decided against calling my doctor. I read your comments, googled, read some real books ... all of which assured me that what I was feeling was normal for the 9 to 10 week mark.

We leave tomorrow morning for five days in Boston. As weird as this sounds, I thought if something is wrong, there's nothing that I can do about it. So I might as well wait until I get back from Boston and deal with it at my doctor's appointment on Thursday.

But in my heart, I am beginning to believe that perhaps nothing is wrong. Just maybe. I'm starting to allow that long lost bag named Hope to slip in there .... she's not a permanent resident yet, but she is doing some poaching.

The Ostrich Has A Request

I'm terrified. I've got that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it's not morning sickness. I'm googling and reading ... trying to find reassurance. I just know something is wrong with this pregnancy.

I don't feel pregnant. The only "symptoms" that I really have are tiredness and what feels like a thickened stomach area that's uncomfortable to hold in. Even with the tiredness, I can push through that if I have to and keep going. I have no morning sickness whatsoever. I'm not starving, even if I miss a meal like I had to with supper last night. My breasts are sore when I wake up in the middle of the night, but that's about it. Maybe a little tender throughout the day if I brush against something - but not outlandlishly so. And although I'm peeing frequently, even that seems to have subsided, despite the fact that I'm drinking a ton of water daily.

I don't see my family doctor until next Thursday, and the high risk clinic isn't seeing me until October 19th. There's a part of me that wants to call my doctor today and ask for something - anything - an ultrasound, more blood work, a doppler listen. And then there's a bigger part of me that's winning out that says ignore it. Relax. You really don't want to know if anything is wrong, now do you?

I can't get the sight of the empty sac from our first ultrasound (at 7 weeks) out of my head. I keep having this foreboding sense that it's still empty.

So come on....tell me all your stories about people you know who had beautiful, wonderfully healthy babies with nary a pregnancy symptom. Help me keep my head in the sand please.

Hope deserved?

It doesn't seem fair that some of us have to struggle so very much to bring a child into this world. In my last post, I was being buoyed up by Julia's ever present wit. Now I'm weeping with her and her family as they try to move through this latest development.

I can remember reading the blogs of other infertile sisters who managed to achieve pregnancy. None ever really breathed easily, and most struggled with alternating feelings of guilt, fear and anxiety. I can remember thinking that if it were me, I would just be so eternally grateful for the pregnancy that I wouldn't complain or worry.

I want to hunt down each one of the bloggers I ever thought that about it and apologize deeply now. I so fully get it.

If I allow myself to feel truly happy and relaxed about this pregnancy, I'm convinced I'm cursing it and myself. The joy of the most blessed event of my life has been stolen from me. I can't figure out how to retrieve it and that sucks. I remember when Julia posted a semi-hopeful post and I cheered! Yay and hurrah for hope!

We do deserve to feel joy and hope. We do have the right to be excited about these babies we have loved into existance after so many years of trying. We should be able to shout from rooftops. Yet, as Mony so eloquently wrote, we strap on our orange belts, but still kind of keep them hidden under our folded arms, afraid that if we breathe too loudly, our orange belt will be repossessed.

Sad.

On being a radiant goddess

I was away for the weekend, attending a conference which was exactly what I needed, and where I needed to be. It was a Cursillo conference - filled with people of great faith. Right now I need to be reminded that I, too, am a person of faith. This weekend did exactly that for me, and I'm feeling incredibly peaceful, healthy, happy and yes, hopeful.

I was just reading Julia's most recent blog entry in which she says, "Which, um, ok, but my third husband is not only going to be a pastry chef he is going to be one of these internet spouses I keep reading about who strongly believe that pregnancy is a mystical, awe-inspiring time of great pith and moment and who cannot do enough to nurture and support the radiant goddess they are blessed enough to call Partner, Lifemate, Friend during this magical arduous process".

This cracked me up but also made me reflect on just how grateful I am that HB is one of those internet spouses of which she speaks!

I came home from the conference to find that he had spent his entire weekend painting. Now you have to understand - HB and I are probably the most sloth like home owners in the world. We keep a clean house...a tidy house....but we don't do that paint/renovate/repair thing. At all. Seriously. We have duct taped up holes in the walls. And been fine with that.

But I had happened to mention that I'd like to get the small bathroom on the main floor painted. My wish apparently is his command these days. Not only was the wallpaper border stripped, the bathroom painted totally, and the trim painted a beautiful contrasting colour - he also bought an awesome new light fixture for above the mirror, installed a new sink to replace the old one that had icky holes in the porcelain, painted the front hall and the french doors, and replaced the rubber on the front steps.

Now he's picking out colours for the living room, and I'm dreaming of hardwood floors.

He has decided that I am not to lift my arms above my head, which pretty much rules out putting away or getting any dishes in our house since I'm a short little runt whose kitchen has high cupboards. I am not to vacuum, nor am I to carry anything of weight over 10 lbs. I am not to bend to retrieve laundry from the washer or dryer. The list goes on.

The clinic called on Friday. Our nuchal fold and early ultrasound will not take place until October 19th. That feels really far away. It's hard to believe that I'm really only 8 weeks pregnant. It feels like we have been trying to get our heads around this forever now, when in fact it's only been 4 weeks.

I am beginning to believe this will happen. Why else would HB be treating me like the "radiant goddess" of which Julia speaks?

I'm out of my mind

So...not much is new. I've had a very uneventful week. No bleeding. Minimal spotting. Oh my...the joys of discussing thy inner workings with the internet!

I'm exhausted. Seriously. I'm taking two hour naps when I come home from work. I'm working really hard to eat balanced meals and snacks throughout the day. HB won't let me stretch to put a dish away, nor will he let me pick anything up. If you knew me, you'd know that I don't do the helpless maiden thing well. Either I will get extremely used to this and turn into a huge sow who refuses to do anything but chew, or I will get extremely pissed at this and lift something huge out of revenge.

I did something yesterday that was extremely brave or extremely stupid. (Oh...and apparently pregnancy has reduced my vocabulary...removing all adjectives but the word extremely). Anyhow. I bought maternity clothes.

Stupid? Brave? Hopeful? Not sure. I was at the mall, and found myself brave enough to wander into the store. They had such nice stuff. And this sales chick? I hope she's on commission because she was awesome. I had no intention of even trying anything on, let alone buying anything. Although I had been thinking that it would be nice to get a few things at a time and just put them away.....just in case. Somehow we got into a conversation and I found myself telling her that we were being cautious because of our history. Very tactfully she said they had a full return and refund policy.

I walked out of there with 8 tops and a gift card for $50 off my next purchase.

What the hell am I doing?

And through it all, I'm trying to be happy. But inside, if I'm really really starkly honest, I have this recurring thought that there is really no baby in there. That I'm going to go for the next ultrasound and they will say "ahhhh sac's empty. So sorry." I feel like I have two little creatures on my shoulders .... the evil one on my left shoulder whispering that I'm losing my mind and don't deserve this .... and the beautiful, sweet one on my right shoulder, softly stroking my cheek and telling me that my time has finally come. I just don't know which one will win out.

A scare

How does that John Prine song go?
"woke up this morning....put on my slippers....went to the kitchen and bled...."

No wait, that's the infertile miscarrier song. I get them mixed up all the time.

Anyhow, I'm fine now but we had quite a scare today. I started to bleed bright red at about 11:50 a.m. It held out long enough to get me through this job interview I had this morning, thankfully, but immediately afterward out it came. Went right through my jeans.

I drove myself to emergency, calling my doctor's office on the way. She was out of the office but being as awesome as she is, got the message and called me back on my cell within five minutes. She told me that my hcg levels from yesterday were wonderful, but to reassure myself I should continue on to emergency where she would request additional quantitative levels, an ultrasound and an internal.

I was home by supper time. For all the complaining there is about the emergency clinic around here, they have sure been great to me.

It was ironic, however, that as I sat waiting to be seen by triage, a very pregnant young woman came up, butted in front of me to see how much longer she was going to have to wait to be seen for the dizzy spell she was having. She stood there in front of me, rubbing her belly the entire time. I was biting my tongue and praying for HB to walk in before I lost it.

Anyhow...results.
HCG test 1 - 2800 (August 30)
HCG test 2 - 17,000 (Sept 7 - 8 days)
HCG test 3 - 19,000 (Sept 8 - 1 day)
Internal - cervix closed; presence of a clot of blood but not coming from inside the cervix.
Ultrasound - gestational sac present; no fetal pole but the radiologist and my doctor both warned us before the ultrasound that this is normal for this stage.

The only concern the radiologist voiced was that the sac is not centered in the uterus. It is up higher than he would have liked to have seen it.

The bleeding had subsided by about 3 p.m. and I was home by 5:30, with orders from the doctor to "take it easy" for a while.

We told Frodo and Mini Me last night. They are delighted and have stated their preference for a sister. I love that they refer to the baby as their 'sister'.

The down side of today? HB had to tell Knothead because he had to get her to take the kids for a few hours to come meet me at emergency. She just called her and in her way of being able to make anything be about herself said "How are you feeling? Good. Congratulations by the way. Don't worry about it. I bled in my sixth week. I actually I bled continuously from week 6 to 12."

This is exactly what she said to me when we lost Brodie. Oh no wait...how she actually said it at that time was "Don't think I'm not sorry about the baby, because I am. I bled during my pregnancy too so I know what you're going through".

Then she gave me a pot of mums. That died.

I had forgotten about that until tonight.

Nervously public

This morning I went to see Dr. H for my first prenatal visit.

Prenatal. Me! (snort!!!!)

It went well. I had been keeping a list of things I wanted to discuss with her, some of which are courtesy of comments here - like Laura's observation about progesterone - and others which were just related to things that had been going on with me, like the brown spotting. It's not even fair to call it spotting. It was more like brown splat on the toilet paper. One splat and it was done.

Anyhow, as I was getting ready this morning I could hear HB up here cackling like a mad scientist. I asked him what he was going through, and he told me that I'd have to experience it to appreciate it. I get to the doctor's office, pull out my carefully printed and bulleted list to go over it before seeing her, and at the bottom of the list, in HB's print, complete with a bullet and a happy face, I read:

"Is excessive farting normal?"

I was on the floor! What a guy I married. I simply slid the note over to Dr. H (who loves HB by the way), and after she stopped crying, she told me she'd be leaving him a voice mail message to explain why he'd better get used to it.

After an opening like that for your first prenatal visit, where do you go from there?

She is delighted with all my blood work, my blood pressure, the fact that I've been smoke and booze free for a few years now, and agrees with HB that no stress is the order of the day. Although she is my family doctor, she is also an ObGyn. She has referred me to the high risk clinic but has also said that I will be a "shared care" patient with her. What that means basically is twice the attention, which also means twice the appointments, but hey...that's cool.

I went for a truckload more bloodwork and urine analysis this morning as well, and then over to the maternity hospital to pick up a nutrition guide she wanted me to have.

Then I went to work. Where the word is definitely out. And I spent the day receiving congratulations from everyone.

We plan to tell Frodo and Mini-Me this weekend.

Oh God .... I hope we didn't make a mistake in allowing this to become so public. But...to quote many other bloggers....NBHHY and there are no signs that SBIGTH (something bad is going to happen). It's just that I'm still so freaking early in this pregnancy. It could be over tomorrow. Everything that I'm reading (yes, I broke down and allowed HB to buy me a copy of what to expect when you're expecting) says that the minute you know you are pregnant, start acting like you are pregnant. Rest when you need to ... be happy and stress free ... eat healthily ... don't lift ... etc. All the things that HB is encouraging me to do. Yet, it's so early. And I don't 'feel' pregnant. And it could all disappear tomorrow.

Chant with me, will you?

Sinking in

It's all good. The spotting has stopped. In fact, it was very minor spotting, in retrospect. One little splurt first thing in the morning on Sunday and Monday, and another little one in the evening on Sunday. I've done enough reading and googling now to know that it's all normal.

I have to be careful what I wish for - yesterday I said to HB that I'd like to get a good dose of morning sickness to know I was pregnant. Well, today has been one of those queezy all day days.

We have decided that we're telling people freely. I know what it is that I have to do to take care of myself physically, but we all know that if it's not going to continue, there's nothing you can about it. So in the meantime, we want people to be happy for and with us.

Yep. It's starting to sink in.

A desperate beg - Updated

I'm terrified.

I woke up this morning to some very mild gas like cramps, and when I wiped, I found a brown discharge on the t-paper. The spotting has stopped although the gas like cramps continue. I can't help but flash back to my first bleed with Brodie. This one is NOT bright red, which is good I know (I've researched at Google U this morning already), but it still terrifies me. My breasts are also not sore at all. And I mean at all. Although I've been a little squeemish at times throughout the days, I'm not experiencing any naseau or sickness. Just tiredness, and even that wasn't bad last night.

The other thing that is terrifying me is that HB is not at all interested in considering the possibility that this pregnancy might not stick around. When we were had that last ultrasound that told us Brodie was gone, I can remember the nurse technician and I both looking at the screen and knowing right away. HB, however, was refusing out loud to believe what he was seeing. He kept saying "it's all alright....the baby is fine" over and over.

He kept saying that this morning too when I told him about the spotting. I'm so torn. I've googled and read, and found evidence on both sides. I don't see my doctor until Thursday. I'm trying to follow HB's advice and be as stress free as possible....be positive....enjoy being pregnant.

And yet I have this feeling of doom this morning. I can't even try to think beyond this day. And of course I'm thinking about how frigging many people we told this week in our stupid excitement.

Please please please let me, just this once, be part of that 80% for whom spotting at this stage means absolutely nothing. Please!

_______________________
Updated:
I have had no more spotting at all since the one episode this morning. No more cramping, and happily, my breasts are tender! Thanks everyone .... I'm going to try hard NOT to be an overreacting hormonal bag very often!

One minute at a time

Driving.
Cell phone rings.
It's the doctor.
Dr. H: Did you get your test results?
Moi: Nope. (trying hard to keep eyes on road while HB sits anxiously beside me)
Dr. H: Well, you are pregnant.
(Pause)
Dr. H: In fact, how do you feel? Because you are extremely pregnant.
Moi: (Still trying to keep eyes on road while tears are welling up in said eyes.) Umm...I feel tired but you know
Dr. H: But do you feel pregnant? Because I mean it...you are very pregnant!
Moi: (Giving up and pulling over to the side of the road).
Dr. H: Make an appointment tomorrow and get yourself in here.

My hcg levels were 2000+

I'm allowing myself to feel happy tonight.

Happy Blogaversary to Me

On August 30, 2004 I posted to this blog for the first time. It had been two years since we had discovered that our baby boy was not alive.

Here I sit, exactly two years later. Pregnant. Holy cow.

I am stunned beyond belief. I saw my doctor today and got the blood work order. I'll go first thing tomorrow morning and believe it or not, I can't remember how it works. I think I will have to go back and get a second draw in a day or two. I'm hoping it's the very next day since I'm working out of town every day this week.

HB and I had already had plans to hang out with my parents yesterday, and we decided that we would share the news with them. HB is working really hard to help me remain positive. Like me, he says he's happy and scared all at once. I think happy is winning out with him. He wants to wait a few days until I get the hcg levels back and then wants us to tell Frodo and Mini-Me together.

I guess Frodo and Mini-Me were talking about wanting a baby brother or sister just the other day. Man, imagine how cool I'll be if I can actually deliver on that want? I mean really....first I actually saw Kiss in person which upped my cool level with Mini-Me....so delivering on this would be huge!

HB and I are following through with our lock down this weekend. I have to head to an amazing part of our province for work on Thursday. HB is going to come with me, and we're going to stay down there for Friday night as well. We've booked a really nice cottage on the grounds of a resort right on the water. My sister in law is going to hang out here with the dawg while we're gone, which is great.

And just to keep things exciting, I got a call today inviting me to an interview for a job that I would just absolutely love to have! It's a one year assignment to start, but it's with a staff team that I truly see as being a key part of my future career. I accepted the interview and will deal with any decisions I may have to make if and when they arise.

A state of disbelief. Part of me knows it's true because I have the positive test stick. And I feel exactly the way I did with my first pregnancy that actually hung around for any length of time. Sore boobs that are already showing blue veins. Bags under my eyes and mid afternoon tiredness. Early morning wakings, and already with the peeing thing. I went to the weight loss clinic I've been attending yesterday, and knew that I had to tell them. They were absolutely delighted, resulting in every consultant in the office coming into where I was, squeeling with delight and hugging me ... and telling me that although I was NOT to eat for two, I was also not to come back until after my baby was born. They were using words like "due date" and "bring the baby in". How the hell can people be so confident that a pregnancy is actually going to result in a baby?

Oh. My. God

This is what I woke up to this morning. I'll write more when I can think straight. I'm terrified right now.

So...edited at 6 p.m. my time to update you all.

Yes, it is what you think. I have been waiting and waiting for my stupid period to start, never ever thinking that I might possibly be pregnant because, you know, I gave up on that some time ago. This morning I got up at my usual time and decided to use this one lonely test I had in the cupboard. I was using it more to assure myself that I wasn't pregnant, and that my period would indeed be starting any day now.

Ha. That worked well didn't it?

I think we're both in shock. I'm very likely only about 5 weeks along. I called the doctor today to see about getting hcg levels done.

I'm terrified. Terrified that it won't stick around. And terrified that it will stick around.

Reluctant hostess

Today is my last day of vacation. It's raining like crazy outside, and I'm not looking forward to going back to work tomorrow. I'll know enough next year, though, not to take my vacation around my week of exams. I thought I was being smart doing that but in fact, I spent the first week of my vacation stuck in the trailer suffering death by stepchildren, and stressed about not getting my school stuff done. Then I spent my second week away from work in classes. Then my third week away from work (second week of vacation) was spent with HB's sister here, who apparently has moved in with us.

Don't get me wrong. She's lovely. It's just that I am used to down time, and our lifestyle gives me plenty of that down time by myself. We might go like wild people between gigs, works, kids, commitments but then I'll find myself all alone in the house for a few hours or even a whole evening, and I will lap it up. Not so much since she arrived.

There's a part of me that feels horribly guilty for even writing about it. You see, her husband of 20 years up and told her in May that he no longer loved her. It has taken her until now to get the balls up to actually leave the kids with him, get on a plane and start thinking about herself for a change. She told him she needed to be with family, and over she came last week. She came camping with us for our two day "let's get away by ourselves" time, and then just never got out of the car when we got back into town.

She told me today that she only bought a one way ticket. And then made a request for me to help her hook up with the people she needs to talk with in order to start her own business.

HB and I were sniping at each other in the kitchen today because we're both kind of at the end of our ropes. There have just been too many people around in this little house all week, and no room to put them or us or the tension.

I'm on the road most of the next two weeks, which probably isn't a bad thing. I'm hoping she'll get lonely enough to think about buying another one way ticket ... or if not that, to think about moving back to her mother's place. Damn me for being lazy this summer and not getting that bed out of the spare room thrown out and replaced with a chair and new computer desk! Did I mention that the only space left in this house that I've managed to protect for my own is this one little computer desk space, which just happens to be in the guest room? I start back to classes in 2 weeks, and given that I'm doing an online program, having a guest in the computer room will not work well.

HB assured me today that the lockdown is still on for Labour Day weekend. I hope he understands that lockdowns do not generally involve inviting your sister along.

M'kay. Bitching done. I'm putting my hostess face back on and headed downstairs now.

Lock Down Time

I finished my summer term at school today and am feeling absolutely exhausted. It was a long week. Early mornings, long days in the classroom filled with making presentations and listening to others, and then late nights getting ready for the next long day. I think I averaged about 3 hours sleep per night this week.

But I have two more courses completed in this program. Only ten more to go - April 2008 will be here before I know it!

I found a job that I'm interested in applying for this week. At best, it will be a lateral move and in fact if I can't negotiate continued support for my educational program, it will be a decrease ... but it's out of the department I'm currently in, and working with people that I really really like. It's also doing work that I find very interesting, and would put me in touch with a whole new group of senior people. I've decided I'm going to apply for it and even if I don't get it, I suspect I'll get an interview which will be a good experience.

HB and I have been trying to get some time alone all summer, and it ain't happening. We thought we had managed to plan a sneaky camping trip for this week, but his sister arrived from Newfoundland earlier this week and found out. Guess who is now coming with us?

So...we have declared Labour Day weekend a secret lockdown weekend. We haven't done that in several years. Basically a lock down weekend involves major deception of family and friends (sorry...we'll be out of town that weekend), rental of lots of movies, stocking up on good food and treats, shutting off of the phones, closing of the blinds and curtains, and locking down from the outside world. The longest we've ever done it for is two complete days but with this being a long weekend, we're going to aim for the four night stretch. We might even actually leave town for part of it.

Now the challenge will be for both of us to actually protect that weekend. If we give in and give up time on that weekend, we're screwed. It will mean that we will have no time to ourselves until at least November.

When did we become human doings?

A slow death....torture by stepchildren!

I was camping this week. In a trailer. With three boys under 13 and my husband. And for the first time in my life, I was actually grateful that I am unable to bear children.

It was the week from hell. Mini Me's birthday was last week, and Frodo's is today. We told them they could bring one friend with them, and they picked a kid I will call S here. Now normally, S is the one kid of all their friends that I truly like and enjoy. He is a wee bit older than Frodo and Mini Me, but always seemed to have that good sense gene firmly in place. He demonstrates good manners; knows when to have fun and when to draw the line. I liked him. Until he turned into the demon seed on this camping trip! Both HB and I had to speak to him several times about his behaviour and attitude. Then we lost total control when he met my 14 year old niece (who is gorgeous, in my completely humble opinion) and his hormones raged out of control for the rest of the week ... forcing him to engage in ludicrious actions and assinine behaviours. Ahhh young love.

Add to this that Frodo has been having some major issues which were out in full force this week. I think I've mentioned them before, but to recap - he is entirely and utterly spoiled, but masks it well enough that we're never completely convinced it isn't just the actions of a spoiled child playing parents off against each other, but rather is something more deeply rooted. HB and Knothead are actually taking him to a psychologist next week and I'm not sure whether to be happy or worried. Happy because perhaps we'll finally get to the bottom of it, but worried because Knothead could make a drama out of Charlie Brown's Christmas Tree.

One of the things that causes the most trouble for me is Frodo's complete insistence on being physically connected to HB at all times, especially if it means keeping me away from HB. Even at night. I recently put my foot down and insisted that HB begin to wean this child from sleeping with him at night. Yes, you read correctly. My 11 year old stepson still needs his dad to sleep with him at night. When HB says no, Frodo throws the biggest tantrum you have ever seen. Complete with kicking, screaming, crying and punching. Even if his friends are present. He doesn't seem to have any embarrassment around (1) the fact that he needs his dad to sleep with him or (2) if he can't have that, he has a tantrum.

So picture that in a trailer. The first night he did great. Went to bed on his own, in his own bed, and slept through the night. The second night, however, brought a different story. HB tired of saying no and left the trailer, leaving me to handle it. I have no trouble being the bitch in this situation. I told him he had to the count of three to get to his bed and that for every minute after the count of three, he was going to bed 15 minutes earlier the next night. He wailed, screamed, yelled at me, and then demanded the cell phone so that he could call his mother. I refused. That really set off the tantrum! Who was I to refuse him his right to call his mother? I have noticed that when he calls his mother, the tantrum gets worse after the call. He had already spoken to her earlier that night and said goodnight then - so I felt justified in my refusal.

Anyhow, that was just one of the antics. The rest of the week was filled with the three kids begging for money, for rides in my mother's golf cart, to drive my mother's golf cart, to watch tv, to go to McDonald's, to go to town, to go go go, do do do.....ARRRRGGGGGH!

All I wanted to do was relax. Maybe hike a bit. Go swimming. But generally you know - relax. Do what you do when you go camping. Not what happened. We were at my parent's trailer, which is at my sister's campground, so we were hardly roughing it since they all live there from May to October every year. This is a 40 foot trailer with microwave and satellite tv - a far cry from the four man tent HB and I are used to hauling around with us. The kids discovered the satellite tv the minute we landed, and although it was 35C outside, they were parked inside watching television. There is a beautiful swimming pool and rec hall filled with games just a three second walk down the hill. They were too lazy to even walk that far. If we wouldn't drive them on the golf cart, they weren't interested in going.

I was at my wit's end by the time we loaded up the truck today to come home. Never have I been so glad to get home in my life! I truly have arrived into the "glad I don't have kids" stage. I was absolutely delighted to be able to drop them all off at their other residences today, come home to my quiet, clean and uncluttered home and forget all about kids. Even the dog looked happy to be away from them. A long weekend with two major papers to write has never looked so good to me as this one does!

Spinster Sister

My husband has left me.

For the weekend that is .... to accompany 200 youth and the other 49 adult chaperones from our area to Attleboro, MA to a youth conference. He was called in at the last moment to go and said yes, although wasn't quite sure what he was getting himself into. We knew lots of other people going this time and who have gone before, and who have always had great experiences. As a chaperone, you're really going to be there to support the youth, who sometimes have some pretty intense conversion experiences.

Neither HB or I are very charismatic Christians, although we have all the respect in the world for those people who have that experience. We are more people of quiet faith, and in fact, if I look seriously at my attitude around charismatic belief, I would have to admit that I am afraid of it. To be fully open to the gifts of a charism means to be able to fully let go of the control. I have so far to go in that regard! Thus, my walls are up - firmly protecting my humanness and keeping it intact. HB is a great example to me in that regard and I'm looking forward to him coming back home so that I can hear about his experience this weekend. They've been in the midst of thunder, lightening and rain storms during the whole weekend trip!

So I've been all by myself and off work since Thursday morning. I made a list of things I planned to accomplish during the five days I had to myself. The list looked like this:

• complete the two major papers that are due for class on Monday and which had not yet been started;
• buy big storage bins and begin to fill with the various items accumulated in the wrecked room downstairs;
• paint the small bathroom on the main floor;
• mow the lawn;
• dismantle the bed in the spare room, throw out the mattress and convert the room into the office I have been wanting for years now.

You get the picture.

Here's what the list of what actually got done looks like:

• play many levels of Cactus Bruce and the Corporate Monkeys;
• spend three hours hanging out in a coffee shop and gabbing with a girlfriend that I never get to spend time with anymore;
• go to the spa, get a french manicure and a makeup consultation;
• spend $250 on three teensy weensy things of makeup and two brushes with which to apply said makeup;
• read blogs.

Who knew that people other than infertiles blogged? Why didn't someone tell me sooner? There is life beyond infertility? I'm gobsmacked!!! Good life! Funny life! Sad life. Single life. Married life. Sarcastic life.

But there is life.

Check out two of my new reads:

Dustin - I found his blog by way of Grins (a must read in her own right) and have been following his daily excursions of moving, dating, living with cats and struggling with re-establishing after divorce.

Boomama - a Christian mom living life in the real world - be prepared to shed some tears at her most recent posts. It's a real testimony to love and friendship.

So here I sit now, 3:15 on Sunday afternoon with the prospect of two unwritten papers stretching ahead of me. And yet I'm blogging. And looking for new blogs to read! So how about adding to my distraction today? If you're reading, leave a comment with links to some of your favourite, non-fertility related blogs. Come on. Do it for me. I'm home alone! (wow...that line used to work in the aol chat rooms...hehe)

Second best is sometimes the best

I am one of those people who has always settled for the second best. My dad is a great fixer upper, and we were raised to believe that it didn't matter what the label said - if it was a good price and good quality, then it was good enough. I can still remember being new to my school in grade nine, and wanting more than anything a pair of North Star sneakers to wear to school. Dad to the rescue! He came home one Sunday from the flea market, with a pair of ever so slightly used sneakers in his hands. They were not new. And they were definitely not North Stars. But they were mine. Dad said he'd fix them up and they'd be as good as new.

As I grew up, the trend continued. I got to take my brother's second hand stereo to college with me; his used guitar became mine; my mother's hair dryer was passed over to me when she got a new one; and her friend who was the same size as me would save her work clothes for me once I began to work.

I was the recipient of my parents' old towels, old duvets and duvet covers they were no longer using, and many a piece of used furniture to help furnish those sparse apartments. I will never forget the years of the green and orange couches adorning my beautiful basement flat with the hardwood floors and window seats. Those couches. Ouch.

When I bought my first house, my dad told me he had built me a table for my deck. He had built some beautiful picnic tables in the past so I was quite excited to see what would arrive. Turns out my sister and her husband got the picnic table. I received another handmade Dad-table. A piece of plywood covered with mac-tac and put on some old table legs.

I used that table for six years.

Then he came in to help me repair that deck. He brought warped wood that he had picked up as a bargain, and instead of deck baluster, he went with lattice. My deck is 18 feet off the ground, and I have 18 feet of lattice reaching from the ground to the top of the deck rail. Ugliest thing you've ever seen.

I smile as I type this because although it sounds like I'm complaining, each one of these stories comes with a memory of gifts given totally from the heart of two loving parents who didn't have much as we were growing up, and never really got used to having much once they hit the point that they could splurge a bit.

They instilled a pretty solid set of values in me ... and one of the great gifts they gave me was the solid knowledge of the place of material things in my life. They just are not that important to me most days.

So this weekend, when I went out and for the first time in my entire adult life, bought a new patio set, I almost felt guilty. I have been threatening to buy one for the last four years. I wanted to replace the hideously blue painted plastic table and the three green bucket chairs that HB accepted from neighbours who were moving and didn't want to throw it out. I almost felt guilty as I threw the first chair over the lattice railings and heard it shatter on the lawn below. I almost felt guilty as I hiked the table out to the curb for the garbage pick up.

I almost felt guilty as I sat under the umbrella, nestled into a cushiony chair with my feet propped up on the second of the FIVE chairs with matching cushions that came with this set.

Almost.

Now I wonder if I can break down and convince myself to buy a pair of crocs? Maybe I should check out the flea market...they might have knock offs for sale.....

Making Plans

Loving this new weight loss program. Eating a lot it seems - trying to graze my way through the day and it works. Down 3 lbs in the first week. In major debt, but down 3 lbs.

More importantly, I feel in control. I know it's only 3 lbs but I controlled them leaving the ample arse (hereinafter referred to simply as a.a.)

In other news, Knothead has decided to manipulate her way through our summer again, but HB is not allowing it to interfere. We have plans to go camping the first week in August. He told her that on three separate occasions over the last six weeks. None the less, she has decided that the demon seeds won't survive if they don't get to a Red Sox game that specific week, and then tried to cover by saying she had misunderstood HB. Hmmm....wonder which of the three times he said it she misunderstood? Or was it that she misread the freaking printed out calendar of commitments and plans he gave her? You know, where it says "T R A I L E R B O O K E D" right across that first week in August. I can see how you'd miss that. (Ed: would you want this woman teaching your children?)

I'm so proud of him though. He just said, "well, I'm going camping that week. If the kids are with me, cool. If not, I'm going camping".

Then she came back and told him that we could go camping during the third week of August when she is away. Gee. Thanks. Isn't she good to us?

Seriously. I have to talk to her boyfriend and get him to up the "do it her" quota. She's not getting enough. And I shouldn't even let myself be concerned, but man, how tiring must it be to live in her head like that? Always having to be out in front of everyone so you can figure out how to manipulate the situation?

The really sad thing, in my opinion, is how Frodo is becoming just like her. HB came into the kitchen the other day and said "I love him, but I hate him because he is just like her and I can't walk away from this one". How true.

Whatever. We're going camping. And that's fun. I just have to survive the next few weeks at work and get these papers done for my courses so I can take the week and just relax.

Ample Arse Begone!

In 1999 I got the "click" I needed to get off my ample arse and do something about my weight. I joined a weight loss clinical program called H*erbal M*agic (asteriking so I don't get spammed) and lost 60 lbs. I maintained that loss until I became pregnant and since the first miscarriage, have just allowed my weight to climb and climb. I am officially now 7 lbs higher in weight than I was the day I walked into the HM clinic.

I have joined and rejoined HM since then, WW at least four times, and tried countless things on my own at home. I've been making a monthly charitable donation to C*urves for the last 18 months, and probably have paid at least one employee salary in full there. In short, I have sucked at doing anything about getting this weight off. And it's no small amount either. I am 64 lbs above my ultimate goal, and 44 lbs above where I was when I became pregnant.

I have been choosing to remain fat. And I have felt miserable about it. Yet I have still chosen to remain fat.

On Friday I marched myself into another weight loss program. The atmosphere in the place was alive! People were laughing and carrying on. I could hear cheers of congratulations from the private offices and whoops of laughter. None of the staff were these little size 4 stick university students out to make a summer job living - they were real women like me. Some had obvious weight struggles themselves - others were of normal weight and shape.

I was escorted into the manager's office for my private consultation. We started the interview and I promptly burst into tears! Excuse me?

I didn't realize how emotional I was about my weight and my body image. HB has been wonderful about it, but he's in such amazing shape that I just can't imagine why he finds me physically attractive. So I sat there, in front of this stranger woman, and I cried.

And then I joined. I feel the click.

I don't care if it's a gimick .... I saw pictures of people that I knew on the wall and they had lost weight. I have been doing the two day "cleansing" activity and got on my scale this morning after the first day. I'm already down two pounds. I don't care if it's all fluid. I'm down two pounds.

With work, school, the kids, lack of summer vacation....and everything else that feels out of my own control in my life, I need something of which I can be in control. My weight and my food intake is that thing. Man, that sounded like an eating disordered statement but really, I have so far to go before an eating disorder could kick in ... besides the fact that I just love food too much to ever think of going without it. Nope, it's the good kind of control.

HB and I have a trip to Boston booked for the end of September. If I keep to the prescribed regime, I will be at my halfway mark by then ... meaning I will be able to wear my Danier leather jacket which I adore! That, and my arse will actually fit comfortably in the seat for the trip.

I'm back. And I'm in control. Watch out world!

How could we not.....

seriously consider falling in love with this guy?

Pan

I sent an email off earlier this week, hoping they might consider a Canadian as an adoptive mom, but had no response. Now his page says "pending" so perhaps he has found a good home already. I post on a message board for owners of giant breed dawgs, and they were already lining up to assist with transport from PA.

There are some awesome people on the internet.

All Taught Up

I'm just waiting to start my on-line class here in a few minutes, and thought I'd pop a few thoughts down on the old blog.

Things at work are still sucking. I feel like I'm feeding into being a big part of a dysfunctional family - on the outside we're so corporately happy, high fiving and hugging all around and celebrating each other. The door closes and we kick the snot out of each other.

I have resolved to not be the negative one about this situation. I have resolved to put my head down, nose to the grindstone, and get this project done so I can get back to my regular job. But man it's hard to be PollyAnna Positive when you're being beat up and around all the time.

The latest is that I might have to use vacation time to attend the mandatory 2.5 day sessions at the end of each course in this masters program that I was asked by my employer to take! Because I was asked and encouraged to get it completed as quickly as possible, I've been taken two courses per semester. That calculates out to 112.5 hours of vacation per year that I would be required to take to attend class. I get 150 hours of vacation per year. That leaves about 4 work days that I would get off each year. Wooo hoooo.

So I got all formal on them, and wrote a letter asking for the definition of "reasonable time off to participate in the program", per my return of service agreement. I was just curious since, you know, I've been told I can't take time off to study. Or write a paper. Or apparently now go to the damn mandatory classes.

But that's just me. Curious Georgina.

I'm found a devotional book called "Faith in the Valley" by Iyanla Vanzant. She starts it out by saying that we're called to remember that within every valley lies a lesson for us to learn.

Is it ok to be tired of learning? I'm just asking.

Voulez vous voo doo?

It occurred to me today that I am considerably late with this period. Like about 3 weeks late. Before you get excited (ok, before I get excited), let me assure you that I am not pregnant. I'm still just sucker enough to have bought into the whole maybe this is karma thing and I'm meant to present HB with a stick laced in urine for Father's Day. You know. Kind of in the same way that I got out of buying his a birthday present for his 40th birthday.

But no. So instead I wrapped up two pictures of our Barkley Boy that I had made into 8 x 10 and put into nice frames.

I didn't realize how stressed I was ... even with all the crap that has been going on of late. You'd think I'd clue in .... I mean an overnight stay in emerg, a meltdown at work and all the drama there should have been signs enough. We went for massages today and I could not believe how knotted up I was! Unbelievable. Man, it felt good. Unfortunately Knothead had thought it would be a good idea for Frodo and Mini Me to be here with us overnight tonight. I'd like to be Christian and say it was because she wanted them to be with their father on his hallmark holiday, but it's more that it suits her family plans tomorrow if they're back to her by noon. So we had these awesome massages and have been flat out ever since.

As for work...I've made a decision. I have met with the executive recruiter and she is reviewing my cv. I've moved my stuff to the crap cubicle. I've met with my home director and given him the heads up that if I don't have another job by the end of December, I will be back to my home position. And so between now and December, I'm going to put my head down, suck it up, get this project done and just keep chanting "it's just a job it's just a job it's just a job".

Ok. I might just maybe stick a few pins in a doll or two that I have in a drawer. Maybe.

Cheese with that whine?

Ironically, it was almost a year ago that I posted this . I had the pleasure of close to a repeat performance at work yesterday. I was ambushed by human resources again. I have enjoyed some really good support in the form of leadership development and in return, I agreed to take on a project within the department that I wasn't that keen on doing. But I took it on, squandering a placement opportunity that I had been provided by a program that I was involved with, and against all advice from the career coach who was working with me. I was being advised to get out of my home department to complete this placement but I chose to remain there because I was applying for the jobs that I reference in that linked post.

If you've read the linked post, you know that I was told I wouldn't even be interviewed for the positions, but was asked to continue on with the work of this project. I had been reporting to an awesome project manager who was responsible for linking the work of my project into the ongoing work of the program area to which it belonged ... until she received a promotion and moved on. I found myself operating solo, reporting to the most senior person in the department, and trying to link my work into the program area on my own. None of which went well.

To put this in perspective (because I realized yesterday that I have minimized this entire event and that sane, normal people who don't work where I do are aghast at what has been happening), I was asked to carry out a piece of work that was part of a program and policy renewal initiative in our department. There are two components to this particular program area, and when the renewal project was initially announced, there was a team of four full time staff assigned to work on it. They quickly decided that it was too large in scope, and that they could only work on one of the two components. Two years later, I was asked to carry out the work related to the second component.

Just so we all understand:

Piece A - four staff and a project manager assigned full time for two years. Piece B determined to be too large to be in scope.

Piece B - One Sandy, no project manager or other staff resources (in fact, no office to work from for quite a while) assigned with 50% of her time being required to lead another initiative at the same time (for which there were also no staff, but which has received acclaim across the province and is being treated as a flagship program for government now...but remember, I suck at what I do).

I'm struggling with not sounding like a victim here but seriously....how would you feel? Since my project manager left, I have been attempting to bring this phase of the project to a close. We had created a project document with time lines and deliverables that broke the project into phases. We were careful to define what was in scope and not in scope for each phase. As everyone knows, the ability to deliver on deadlines is only as good as your ability to get sign off from decision makers. This project involved a large sector of service providers who have been treated like dirt by our department for a lot of years. One of the biggest pieces of work I had to do was in the area of relationship repair with this group. They were a really good group to work with, and turned themselves upside down to help me meet my deadlines. But internal to my own department ... the very group that asked for the work to be done? Different story.

I would schedule meetings with people that would be cancelled, rescheduled or for which people would simply not show. When I could finally get the key players at the table, the assumptions, rules and scope of the work was challenged. I ask for support in the area of research, only to be told there are no resources available to me. A new director is hired for the project area to which this piece of work belongs, and a decision is made to have the renewal initiative managed by the program area now, and that the staff working on the initiative will be assigned to that Director. I'm fine with that ... in fact am looking forward to working with this person who I know I will learn a lot from ... when I realize that there is a major miscommunication taking place.

The Director is under the impression that I will be assigned on a full time, permanent basis to her program area. When she brings this up at a meeting, I quickly said "with all due respect, that is not what I am aspiring to nor why I'm involved in this project". And that really got our relationship off to a good start.

The position that she thinks I'm assigned to permanently is two positions below where I am currently on the organizational chart, and pays about $20,000 per annum less. I have just completed a three year term acting in a position that is at the same level as hers. It just doesn't make sense to be involved in a career development placement that will put you back two levels and see you lose money, does it? Or is that just me being silly?

To be fair, she is new to government, and doesn't know me or my history. So we talked about it at one of our regularly scheduled meetings, and I gave her the history. I also apologized for my lack of tact in responding the way I did, and where I did it, but told her that I had a history of being screwed in this department and took career self management pretty seriously these days.

So last week I receive this appointment from human resources titled "career planning", inviting my new Director, the manager of HR, and myself to a meeting with our deputy minister (who is the senior person that I have been reporting to thus far) for first thing in the morning yesterday. I called HR to inquire about the purpose of the meeting, and was told not to worry. That is was simply a formal passing over of my supervision from the deputy to this new director, and that they wanted to review the terms of my educational agreement (the department is providing me with 75% of the financial support required to acquire this master's degree I'm working on).

Silly me. I almost took her at her word and didn't worry.

Until I got up yesterday morning early to get to work early, and said to HB "think of me at 8 a.m. will you? I have a hinky feeling". Ever the optimist, HB says "why do you always think the worst is going to happen?".

Because history is a great teacher, HB!

I arrive in the deputy's office at 7:55 a.m., and her secretary says "I'll tell them that you're here". I panic, assuming that I'm late. The secretary says "in fact, you're early. They were having a pre-meeting. You know how 'these things' go". To which I say, "these things? ummm no ... should I be concerned?" and she says some general stuff about "you'll be fine; reviewing talent pool; blah blah blah".

I am ushered into the meeting room, to be greeted by the deputy and the HR manager sitting on one side of the table, and no new director anywhere in site.

And then it began. This is not a passing of the supervision. This is a performance review. And not a good one.

By the time I limped out of there, I had been told:

- that I am good at making presentations and have good interpersonal skills;

- that I have taken far too long to achieve the outcomes of this project;

- that I have disappointed her because I didn't deliver on several items (that we had previously agreed were not in scope for this phase but that has been forgotten and I chose not to dispute because, you know, it's the deputy!);

- that I will need to move from my cubicle with a window and in an area where I have some clerical support to a small, middle of the floor with no window cubicle located in the program area and will have no clerical support (remember, I gave up an office with actual walls and a door to take this project on, and have been moved four times now since the start of the project);

- that effective the end of July I will lose the 10% bonus pay I've been receiving since November 2002 because they can no longer justify it;

- that I had to accept I was not going to be the director's equal but that I was going to be reporting to her;

- that there had been a comment that I was taking too much time off to participate in the master's program (I've taken 1.5 days off to study since January 2006); and finally

- that I could continue to lead the employee recognition program until the end of October.

I managed to limp out of there without crying in front of them .... but just barely. I left a tightly controlled voice mail for my former project manager, who has remained a good friend and mentor and is now part of the department's executive team, but she was in meetings all day. I didn't realize how badly I must have sounded until she called me back at home last night in complete panic - she said she thought my other dawg was sick or something, that's how bad I sounded!

I had a regularly scheduled meeting with the new Director for 10:00 a.m. She took one look at me and asked me how it went that morning. I told her I was surprised to see she hadn't been there, and immediately dissolved in tears.

Now I would rather march nekkid down the middle of the street than cry in front of people I don't know. But she was incredible.

She came around her desk, sat down beside me and went into full counselling mode. She explained that she had basically been "uninvited" to the meeting. She led me through a debrief of what had taken place and just listened. She told me that they would begin to make arrangements to have me move into the program area, and I reiterated again how much I'm looking forward to working with and for her, and to learning from her for the rest of this assignment. I didn't get into the fact that I still see this as being a short term assignment and that my plan is to finish the work up and then either find something else (ideally out of the department) or to go back to my old job. I was just too grateful that someone was being kind to me to screw it up at that point, plus I really didn't want to be making statements from a place of anger. Who knows? Maybe I'll get there and decide I love it.

Then she told me to go home for the rest of the day - and that we'd talk about how I could make up that time later. Hmmm. No one ever talked to me about making up time before. No one ever offered to compensate me for all the nights I am there until 8 p.m. either. Whatever. I just said I'd take a half vacation day. I'm beyond caring.

But I did keep my lunch appointment, which ironically was with a classmate who has quickly become a friend, and who just happens to be the senior consultant for executive recruitment for the provincial civil service. While we were eating lunch, the deputy minister for the public service commission came over to say hello, and to congratulate me on the role I had played last week in designing and delivering a corporate recognition training program for 90 staff from across all government departments for his department. The irony just never ceases to amuse me.

So here it is, 5:15 a.m. the next day. My mind was racing so much that I couldn't sleep. I've been up since 4 a.m. drinking coffee and creating this entry - both of which have helped immensely. I am becoming clearer and stronger in knowing what I have to do.

I need to finish this project, and stop worrying about impressing the deputy minister in my department. I just need to worry about doing a good job on the project, and I can learn a lot from this new Director.

I need to have the executive recruiter review my cv as she has offered to do several times now.

I need to keep my eyes open for other opportunities and apply. I need to forget about the return of service agreement I have with my department, accept that I am valued enough by other departments and deputies that they will be willing to honour my agreement if they want me in their department badly enough.

I need to pave the way for a return to my home position if needed, and not feel guilty about the fact that this will displace some other staff. I have to stop worrying about the impact on other people.

I need to remember that if I had ever had to go off on maternity leave, we'd be learning to live on a hell of a lot less than this pay cut is going to be. And I need to remember that we always survive - that it just means a slight adjustment in some spending patterns.

And I need to find my backbone somewhere. Apparently I misplaced it yesterday.

And finally, there is good news. Although I used to enjoy a good smoke after a royal screwing such as this, it never once crossed my mind to go have one yesterday. I guess I am truly a non smoker now.