Posts Tagged ‘cat’

The day our cat fake saved my daughter’s life.

November 16, 2012

I woke up about forty minutes ago. My wife was in the shower, Snort was still sleeping, and Coconut was downstairs. Me? I was lying in bed, luxuriating in the sweet feeling of soft warmth. Then I heard it.

This freaky noise that sounded like baby led weaning gagging. For those who don’t know, the first time you hear baby led weaning gagging, it sounds like OH MY GOD MY BABY IS DYING.

Within a half second, this weird choking sound was followed by the cat going absolutely nuts. Yowling, and I tell you, it sounded like she was calling for help. Of course I imagined that Coconut was choking (and this is what I screamed at a bewildered TMD in the shower – ‘Is someone choking? THERE IS A CHILD CHOKING!’) and the cat was channeling Lassie’s spirit to alert us of this fact.

I’m flailing around, trying to find my glasses, while we run down the stairs. Turns out Coconut was just clearing out her throat six hundred times in a row – something she has never done, so she obviously needed to experiment to find the best technique. These were not human noises, people.

So, I was wrong on one count. On the other, the cat stopped screeching for help the moment we appeared, so perhaps she is more down with health and safety that I previously appreciated. This may bear watching.

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33 weeks 3 days pregnant.

July 10, 2009

Dear Babies,

Your mummy built your new pushchair yesterday while I watched. Despite claims that it was ‘the ultimate in user friendliness,’ Mummy used a lot of words that you probably won’t hear from her again – unless you get little brothers or sisters in future and she needs to build another pushchair.

In the store it looked so sexy and cute, and relatively normal-sized. Now, you babies don’t know what size our home is, because right now you are all smushed up in my (your) womb. But when your pushchair is in our lounge, it DOMINATES. Do you know what ‘dominate’ means? It means it takes up all the room and there is no room for anything else. In fact, I couldn’t even get a picture of Mummy with the pushchair because it was so big.

But dang, you guys are gonna look cute in it. Mummy keeps saying it ‘turns on a dime,’ and I will certainly remind her of that when you guys are big, fat, happy babies and our arm muscles are weeping from the pain of pushing that megalith up a hill on a path that twists and curves.

I got my wheelchair yesterday and Mummy hurt herself lifting it into the boot of the car. Your pushchair would totally kick the ass of my wheelchair in a fight. Except I suspect your pushchair is too expensive and high class to want to fight with a banged up piece of metal transport from the local charity.

Anyway, babies, today is the last day of me being home alone with you guys. Nan (Gran? Nanny?) is moving in on Monday and she will be staying with us every work day. This means that you will get used to her voice, which is nice because she is a generally nice lady. My mommy, Granny (Grandma?), is very happy that Nan will be here to look after us.

Baby girl, you have been having some big, big movements in the past day. The sort of big moves and squiggles your brother normally makes. Does this mean he isn’t squishing you anymore? And baby boy, you  have been getting some messed up hiccups. Yesterday you had them and I jiggled you; they stopped. Within minutes of me stopping jiggling, you got them again.

I’m not sure what position you kids are in, and I am nervous about what happens if you go head down. But still, whatever happens, I hope you are both as comfy as you can be. If you choose to turn head down, you would probably have more room to move. And your heads wouldn’t be up in my ribs anymore, though I think you have both moved away from the rib cage part you were in. So, in short, do consider changing position – if only for your own benefit.

We will ignore what it must be like for you to be crammed through my pelvis and vagina, but remain happy and secure in the knowledge that at least it would clean out your sinuses.

Kitty Marmite is curious about you. We have started paying more attention to her because she has been ignored for the past few months. She was sort of scared of your pushchair, but she REALLY liked the fabric of the seats and we had to hide them in plastic covers. You two will have a lot of fun with her once you are old enough to appreciate that there is more to view than my boobies or your mommies’ faces, but I don’t know if the kitty will as eager to play as you. We’ll see.

Okay, kidlets, over and out. Love you.

Basically, most of week 31 documented here! Drama.

June 30, 2009

Have had another biggish break from the laptop. This is partially due to not being bothered to turn it on, having a few bad days, napping, new entertainment forms TMD has arranged, etc. And lots going on! So here it is, the highlights of the past few days.

I realised after the last entry that I had forgotten one massive pregnancy symptom. Every time I sit up or stand up, big ass burps (that smell) rumble out of me. It’s like instant volcano burps from changing position. Okay, we can move on now that I’ve documented that.

Onto last Thursday’s midwife appointment.

We saw the lovely lady from waaaaaaaay back – the nice midwife supervisor who actually sorted out our notes, booking appointment, etc. I love her. LOVE. The appointment was pretty standard – checked urine, blood pressure (back to normal, thank god!), etc. She didn’t make me get up on the examining table as it really is too difficult these days, so she did the heartbeats while I was sitting in my chair. This was such a thoughtful little gesture and I was impressed! The only downside to no tabling is no measuring of my fundal height – and I am DEAD curious to see exactly ‘how pregnant’ my uterus seems. I can’t quite figure out where the top of it is, or else I would make TMD measure it at home. Might do anyway.

She also couldn’t palpitate my tummy, but she put Mano’s position as ‘? head down’ in the notes because his heartbeat was so fucking low. We’re talking like pubic hair low, but off to one side. It also hurt like a maniac, so there is definitely some Mano bits way down under. I don’t know if I buy the whole head down thing, though I will say I am no longer feeling his kicks in my ass, but his squirming. So maybe.

I asked about my bump being so much lower and how I could now breathe, not throw up after eating, etc. She said that the baby (again, Mano) could have engaged, and that she certainly hoped it was his head that had done so, not another part.

Little Torre was, again, her usual superstar self with holding nice and still for heartbeat finding, etc. She doesn’t seem to change positions as much as Mano. At this point in the pregnancy (well, and for a good few weeks, actually) her heartbeat is consistently higher than his. The midwives all make a point of saying that little girls usually do have a higher heartrate. It’s so interesting in a medical sort of way. I don’t know. For the whole huge chunk of pregnancy, they had matching identical heartbeats. Then came a point when they ‘split’ – Torre stayed high, Mano went a bit lower. They also sound really different.

Midwife also said I needed to stop dicking around and get a wheelchair. She said it wasn’t really a choice anymore. (No, I haven’t ordered it at this point.) What else. Oh! She offered to do home visits to come see me for all remaining appointments!! THAT IS SO NICE. Can this be the same health service that once put an ace bandage on a broken bone and told me I would be fine?!?

While we’re on the medical side of things, let’s talk about my nipples. Yowsa. They have been tipped with white since very early in pregnancy. Then it moved to looking like a dried white lotion coming out. Left nipple – lots of little holes. Right nipple – mainly one giant hole. Left nipple has also taken to stinging like a son of a bitch at the slightest provocation, and both are very tender.

So.

Friday.

TMD got in a car accident. Don’t worry. She is fine. Our car is not-so-fine, and now on top of everything else she needs to sort out the payment with the dude who hit her, getting the car fixed, etc.

Sunday night Marmite got all fucked up. I heard TMD on the phone with someone at 11:30 pm and was like, who the fuck is she talking to this time of night – and about the cat, of all things? Yes. Marmite was angrily moving around the flat, very deliberately and slowly, with her tail swishing from side to side. Then she would freeze and make these slurpy noises – and she was FOAMING. Seriously. She looked like she had a Santa beard.

This foam was everywhere – every room of the house. TMD rushed her to an emergency animal hospital; Marmite gets carsick regularly and puked in the car, and that stopped the foaming. Vet couldn’t find anything wrong, and thinks she ingested a bad plant or something. He gave her an anti-nausea shot. Marmite was still a bit funny yesterday, sleeping most of the day, but I think she is pretty much back to normal.

But, yet again, TMD was up waaaaaaaay past when she should have been, driving our sick little baby kitty all over the fucking place. I feel so bad for all the shit TMD has to do.

And speaking of wonderful wives, she has gone all out to try to provide me with new ways to pass the time. She bought me a kick ass Charlie & Lola magazine I could play with, some coloured pencils, and a book of optical illusion patterns to colour in. She also got me a new DS game, which is essentially a Where’s Waldo searching type of game; I have passed a lot of time with this little fucker. Good times.

Let’s see. What else. Lots and lots of ‘tightenings’ lately, though I am sometimes still  unclear if it is a tightening or simply a big ass baby body pushing out against my tummy. Yesterday I was CRUSHED TMD missed something special – and that I didn’t have the camera with me on the couch so I could show you guys, too.

The left side of my bump shot out two inches higher than the right. My bump was like a child’s drawing of waves on the ocean. Left side really high up, right side dipping in. It stayed that way for about four or five minutes.

These little babies are getting bigger every day, and it’s apparent in their movements, the sheer weight of my bump, the growing field of stretchmarks, and every passing day. When I am sitting up (no small feat since some large part of baby is back in my ribs and every movement feels like I am getting stabbed!), my bump goes MORE than halfway down my thigh. Draw a line between your knees and your hips, and then imagine an inch or so beyond that. My bump sits on my lap and jesus is it heavy!  I’m 32 weeks pregnant with them today, and am getting excited to meet them. Six more weeks!! We have baby clothes hanging up in the lounge, and they are so fucking sweet and tiny I could just melt.

The odd thing is that I can think they aren’t moving, but when I put my hands on my stomach I can feel lots of squirming and stretching from the outside. I still can’t tell what is what, though we both felt a little knee/elbow/leg/something yesterday. BLESS.

I can’t wait to find out their estimate fetal weights on Friday. I have a feeling we are growing some very good sized twins in there!!

Ooh – one last thing. Have had some painful tingling in my left foot (twice) and left hand (once). This is one of those fabled pregnancy symptoms I have not yet felt. I seem to be missing out on all the small annoyances and skipping straight to wanting a constant supply of ice on my crotch. AND NO UNDERWEAR FITS ME. NONE. I constantly have big ass creases (big ass in both senses of the word – literally large creases in my ass, and so forth) from the elastic. I am considering taking scissors and just cutting into the elastic at key points. Underwear mutilation 101.

O-chay. About to upload new bump pictures.

In the meantime, I would like to say:

Dear babies,

You are getting so big and becoming little people! Please do not push on my crotch – trust me, it is boiling hot outside and you are better off in your temperature controlled environs for a bit longer.

Plus, we still haven’t finished building your cot, buying you stuff, etc. You will be like, what? I was all cramped and shit and THIS is my reward for making an appearance?

Six more weeks, babies. That’s all.

We love you!

26 weeks pregnant with twins…and all that goes with that. (Zits all over my forehead. NICE.)

May 19, 2009

Thank you all for the lovely comments on my SuperBump ™. I have a few more pics that were taken two days ago to upload – my bump appears to have grown a few inches overnight, and I don’t think it’s just me. It’s funny – about four/five days ago I was thinking that I had got used to the extra weight, that I sometimes forget I am pregnant, etc.

WRONG.

The night we took these pictures, I saw myself in the Belly Bra and my jaw was almost dislocated from the force of my mouth opening so wide. I am hesitant to say I have a big bump, because everytime I have thought that in the past I have learned a few weeks later that I had NO IDEA what ‘big’ was. No doubt this is a lesson I will continue to have.

I was going through my phone and deleting old text messages yesterday (and finding it an entertaining, worthwhile use of my time – you SEE what all these weeks at home have turned me into?!?) and found some texts I had sent waaaaaaaaaaay back when I was on crutches from the accident. Things like, ‘I’m on crutches and have a huge stomach and no one will offer me a seat. Stupid bastards!’ Etc. I look back now and want to shake myself. Huge bump? Make me fucking laugh, yo.

I am pregnant with twins and I am a superhero! Hardcore. Hardy.

Ha.

At any rate, I am hiding in my bedroom and will be for the rest of the week. At any moment a builder/painter guy is going to show up. We’re having the lounge, hall, and kitchen repainted – I will be hiding not just because that is what I would do if any workmen were in the house, not just because this particular guy is THE chattiest person I have ever met and when I am trapped in conversation with him I can only dream of escape, but because of the paint fumes.

We’ll see how my body likes sitting upright in the glider, as Marmite is dominating the bed at the moment.

And that’s the other thing. Yesterday I was lying on the couch, and I almost couldn’t get up. If I had been more sprightly, I would have said that I was flopping around like a fish out of water. Rather, I sort of lay there, rolling from side to side, hands moving about independent of my brain’s control, trying to find something to grab onto and pull me up. That was an interesting experience. It is now VERY difficult to get myself up off the couch.

I have also had a few nights of dodgy sleep  – escalating to terrible sleep, actually. Last night I found a new solution and it seemed to work, so here’s hoping. During my rearranging of pillows (or, rather, ordering TMD to Make The Bed Perfect Or Else) I confessed to her that I’m actually quite worried what the rest of pregnancy will be like. I mean, many people are my size right before they give birth. So when women who are heavily pregnant (38+ weeks?) complain about just wanting to get it over with and have the baby? Yes, my size or smaller.

I am 26 weeks pregnant today. Yikes, yowza, etc.

We have talked about the fact that once I reach about 36 weeks I will probably need TMD’s mum to come stay with me when TMD is at work. Simply because I don’t know if I’ll be able to move (SPD be damned, I’m talking merely about how huge I’ll be!!!), and I don’t know if I would be crazy or calm if my waters broke.

I am also thinking about the fact that I DO want the blog world to know when things are moving or shaking, and how I will manage to have that sorted out. Poor Tatiana might get an email asking if she wants to guest blog/update for me (hint, hint), though I still don’t know how she would know things were moving along. Plus, that pesky time difference is a WHORE.

Hmmm. Corporate T?

Anyway. Other news is Big Baby Shopping we did this weekend. Won’t write all about it, but will say we went into the town centre especially to look at a particular twin pushchair (‘travel system’ for the uninitiated) – and while we were in the store, a really nice couple with 8 month old twins came in….using that exact pushchair. They let us push their baby girls around (I also told the husband I wanted to kidnap them as they were so cute. How am I allowed in public??) so we could see what the pushchair was like with two babies in it.

While we were doing that, ANOTHER twin mom came in. This is a terrible thing to say,  but her two year old girls looked like they were from Village of the Damned. Very pale skin, see through blonde hair – I was just waiting for their eyes to light up red. We didn’t talk to that mom, possibly because her kids freaked us both out.

Please, let our kids be gorgeously cute, universe!!!

I love my bump muchly, even though I occasionally whack it with the fridge door when I open it (easy to do, actually). If the babies are as cute as the bump, we can all be hopeful. Other cute thing – they respond to TMD’s voice, particularly Mano. I do think he’s in a better position to be kicking, and he does move around a lot. Torre still quieter on the movement front, though her kicks are POWERHOUSES and occasionally make me scream in surprise.

Love to you all!

Baby hugs. (The morning after the night before.)

April 3, 2009

Woke up around 3:30 am this morning from hunger (not hip pain, hooray!). As I was laying on the couch, I suddenly felt a series of quite hard kicks. I just stayed still for ages, hugging my stomach, imagining what these babies look like. What they will feel like in my arms instead of just in my stomach.

Debated about calling TMD in to see if she could feel the kicks, but realistically I don’t think they are that strong.

I felt like I was the luckiest person in the world – and also the only person in the world awake at that hour. At least until TMD came in to feed Marmite, and we ended up talking about the babies, about my dream (which clearly said, ‘Don’t go back to work.’), etc. I ended up with a big bowl of chocolate cereal, some home shopping channels, and two little babies jumping around.

So full of words, but no titles.

March 22, 2009

Another sunny day. Let me say it again: I cannot wait until maternity leave. Not because I don’t love my fabulous and amazing job, but because I want to sit on my birthing ball in the garden. I want to sleep until I wake up (currently freakishly early – like 6:30 am) and then open all the windows and hang out with Marmite.

Weekends are always nice because TMD is here and we have yummy food, fun times, and togetherness. Maternity leave will be a bit different, but I’m so bloody achy that I can’t wait. My back is reaching a level of dysfunction I can’t fully describe – but know that every step I take results in a ‘clicking’ sensation there. And my hips! I had to sleep in my bumpband last night. I also sucked it up and ordered a maternity support belt (how big will my stomach get? I can’t conceive of it).

I never, ever order things that need to fit my body online because I need to try shit on! But this was 10.00 including shipping and I bought the biggest size they offered. I tried on a belt at a store yesterday that was for sizes 8-18 pre-pregnancy, and I swear to Jesus that thing wouldn’t fit around me. This new belt is in tiny size increments (12-14, 14-16, etc) so I think it’ll be more reasonable.

I keep thinking about driving tests with dread. I haven’t booked a new one. I look at all the monstrous fucking idiots in this country who have the ability to drive legally, and I feel like some giant loser because I failed the test. I think this feeling probably stems from the fact that I don’t fail at anything. Reality knows I’ve been driving for 15 years in another country where things are, to say the least, a bit different on the road. Anyway.

A friend from our camping days is coming up this afternoon. Should be very good to see her and pass on our how-to-get-knocked-up-if-you-are-a-dyke tips. I have lots of ’em. In her specific case, they revolve around recommending her to our clinic!! Those people really were the bomb…as was my super fertile body! I read blogs of fellow Sapphites trying to get pregnant with IUI, and the month-after-month devestation of getting their periods terrifies me.

Green asked if I would go back and do this for free with a friend, no crazy hormone shots, etc if I could rewind time. Absofuckinglutely not! IVF worked for us. The first month we tried to make A baby, we got TWO babies. It was less money than IUI as I donated eggs, I got to help another woman, and TMD and I have ended up with Mano and Torre. I would not change one single thing.

It’s nice to not have regrets in this area of my life.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to shower now. I have to try to not lean in any direction that fucks with the ligament on the right side of my womb. She is an unhappy ligament and is letting me know it. Still, my ass is very happy on the birthing ball.  You can’t please everybody at once.

I think TMD and I are going to just buy a glider online today. Any recommendations of a good one are very appreciated. We may not live in your country, but glider goodness does exist here.

Okay. Can’t seem to stop typing for some reason. I guess I just feel fulfilled and exactly where I am supposed to be today. It’s….nice. Plain old fashioned happy.

More on egg collection. Also, I heart private health care.

December 4, 2008

I’ve got a picture of the gross vein thing in my right hand, but fear not, it’s not on the computer yet.

I’m not exactly sure where I was in the Telling of the Egg Collection Saga. Fairly certain I stopped with fearing I would slide off the table, and the nurse telling me I was going to feel totally wacked up after the second injection.

And that’s the last shred of conversation I remember. I don’t remember any talking during the egg collection – surely there must have been some? I also don’t remember my feet getting up on the stir-ups. I was told beforehand that the ‘twilight sedation’ (will avoid any obvious jokes!) would mean that I could hear the nurse and talk to her. God only knows if I did.

My real fear was farting during the procedure.

Anyway, I also have no recollection of being put into a wheelchair, talking to TMD, or falling asleep for ten minutes in recovery. I guess I kept asking the nurses and TMD over and over how many eggs had been collected. In a loud voice. Along with my declaration of, ‘I felt everything’ at the near-top of my lungs. Shortly after waking up, which happened pretty quickly, I hurt. I immediately asked Ann, my pal the nurse, for some painkillers.

Time seems wobbly at this point. I swallowed two pills. Then the nurse-with-the-serious-drugs came over and said, ‘I heard you’re in agony.’  She was going to inject something into me, before that damned Ann told her I’d taken tablets. I heard whispered conversation along the lines of, ‘Why does she hurt so bad?’ Then Ann ‘fessed up and told My Drug Dealing Nurse that they hadn’t given me the ass bullet designed to thwart pain, due to my asthma.

Then Lovely Druggie Nurse came back to sit by my and rub my leg. She suggested I shift over onto my side and lie flat, as this would take the pressure off my ovaries. She stayed and chatted for ages, and then said she would come back to see how I was doing in a bit, as if I needed more pain meds she could dose me up.

I remember saying we had to call Aussie – so I did. Also asked TMD again (!) how many eggs had been collected.

A short while after, I was up and at ’em. After being told I would feel sleepy all day, I was a bit surprised to feel completely awake. Druggie Nurse came back, I said I was much better, so she took the IV thing out of my hand. She also said that the drugs she had given me had a side effect of euphoria, so I might be experiencing the tail end of that.

(Trust me, dear readers, euphoria was NOT my frame of mind! Ha!)

Nursie also explained that if I got heavy cramps with my period, it was unavoidable that I would feel more pain after an egg collection than others. Not quite sure of the logic of that, but it sounded good.

We then got a visit from the  lady who had done the egg collection. She explained they’d got seven vials of fluid from my ‘very juicy follicles’, and that seven was a high number. Also something about the number 4? Fuck knows. After given the all clear to leave and a paper bag full of pessaries (ass bullets!) we left. Got a taxi to the train station, at which point we had a slight detour while I demanded we go across the street to buy veggie sushi.

I just felt tender, sore, full – but could already tell those eggs were outta me. Apparently the ovaries go into mini-seizures after an egg collection, so that’s why. They’re also still very swollen. I had some bleeding after the op, but it’s done today. Thankfully. That made me nervous – I suppose it was essentially spotting, but with a couple of strands of clot-like substance. (TMI? Deal.)

Despite the feast on the train and feeling wide awake, I passed out within minutes of getting home and slept for hours. Then last night we had our first at-home ass bullet insertion. This was less crazy than the first shot, though I will say I dropped it on the floor and put it in anyway. Go ahead: judge me.

Today I feel much better. Only took painkillers when I first woke up, which is a big difference to gobbling mass amounts every four hours yesterday. My ass is a bit peculiar, though. (Okay, it’s going to be TMI for a minute, so you can skip ahead if you don’t like poop talk.)

I still feel like I’ve got to poop a lot – just as I did before the egg collection. But when I sit on the toilet, even for a pee, sweet jesus. It’s like a mass amount of pressure pushing down, and it is tres painful. Particularly if actual poo is involved. You know those occasions when you are trying to push out a piece of poop that is clearly too big for the alloted space? The ripping pain? Yeah, it’s like that every time. Add that to my anxiety around pooping out my pessaries, and you’ve got a version of me that is even more shit-obsessed than I was before this whole IVF thing.

Because, incidentally, I did poop out some pessary yesterday evening.

I think I can switch to sticking them up the hole where it’s much more usual for things to be stuck once the embryos are transferred. I guess that’s messier than the poop shoot, but who cares? I want to be able to poop when I need to poop, you know?

The only other thing I haven’t written about on here is my stomach pain. This is decidedly different from my ovaries, which I can still feel with an unfortunate deadly accuracy. This feels like I haven’t eaten in a week – very sharp, severe pain.

I took my hCG trigger shot on Monday night. I woke up before dawn on Tuesday morning with ripping stomach pains, sure I was somehow starving. The same thing happened on Wednesday morning. This does NOT happen normally.

Today the pain has been there all day. My natural reaction is to feed the hunger, as though it is a rapid dog to be feared. So I shove food in, the pain goes away for a few hours, then the hunger gods need to be appeased once more. Let me reiterate: this is not normal hunger. This is PAIN.

WTF, you know? Any enlightenment welcome, particularly as my last bout of frantic eating only appears to have muted the pain.

I’m thinking – gas, stress, or the trigger shot. But I don’t get gas pains as a rule, and let me assure you that in the parping department, much air is flowing. (A side effect of the bullets is flatulence. TMD is not amused, because I already do more than my fair share.) I guess another possibility is the shitty food I’ve been eating.

But, ow.

My embryo transfer is arranged for 11 am on Saturday. Start crossing your phalanges now!!

PS – Seriously, I need to remember to tell you about de-icer and spilled cologne.

PPS – TMD is so cute. I got a text earlier saying that she can’t concentrate because she is so excited. Me? I am just sitting here stinking up the flat. Even the cat is disgusted.

Who says bloated tummies aren’t hot?

December 2, 2008

My stomach a few days ago. Notice the blooooaaaatttttttting. The tasty looking bruise in the picture looks about a million times better than it did the day after the shot. The only really bad bruise, and it’s all down to TMD. After this shot o’ bruising, I took over doing my shots again. Ha.

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And here we have the bloated tum o’ fun yet again – this is seconds after MY LAST SHOT. Indeed, this is the trigger shot. What’s delightful about this is that rather than ‘pinching the skin’ around the area, everything is stretched so tight and bloated that I have to just grab on to the entire hunk of lower abdomen in order to squeeze anything.

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Actually, looking at that picture, that’s me actually giving the shot. See all the liquid still in the syringe? It’s like a live action movie.

Kinda.

And here’s a document with a heading guaranteed to make you sit up and take notice:

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And, finally, the only member of the household that shows only a pasing interest in IVF:

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So. Today’s my first day off work. I don’t feel any bad symptoms at all. The trigger shot is actually hCG. This is the pregnancy hormone – it’s what pee-on-a-stick pregnancy tests are looking for. I injected myself with 10,000 iu. The fact that I’ve gone from zero to baby-hormones with no real side effects at this point will no doubt make me feel sane while I’m waiting to do a pregnancy test.

The info they gave us says they send us away with a home pregnancy test. No blood test? I know this country is different than others that test hormone levels every other day to see if it looks like a twin/singleton pregnancy, making sure everything is developing, etc. But a home pregnancy test? It seems like such an ordinary way to end an extraordinary IVF cycle.

Let’s hope that test makes an appearance on this diary in a few weeks, and it’s a big, juicy positive.

I am a non-train spotter.

October 19, 2008

I talk about the train station all the time. Want visuals? (Apologies for quality, taken on my phone.)

The walk to the station:

My train platform going into work, where all the Crazy Shit With John happens:

The platform when I get home (and huddle under cover from the rain waiting for TMD to pick me up!):

Lovely road behind the park behind our house (behind the front of the house, behind the street in front…):

Last bit of walk home, where I imagine a crazy killer could get me at night, were it not so peaceful:

And now, our cat (I am becoming everything I hate by posting pictures of my pet, appreciate the sacrifice):

Flair board. As close to a picture of me as you’re likely to get.

September 13, 2008

I’ve gone minimalistic with my current flair board on Facebook. There was something nice about deleting the mass quanty of flair and just not caring.