Posts Tagged ‘dreams’

Weekly roundup 13 – 19 April 2013

April 20, 2013

Saturday:

Well, it was Coco’s turn for the high fever. And TMD got sick as well. Snort was a bit chirpier, but we were all definitely unwell. Handy as we had booked non refundable hotel rooms for the weekend, as we were supposed to be going to see family. Oh well. That’s all that can really be said, because most of the day was spent lying listlessly and watching tv. Again.

Tonight and last night I did the bedtime thang alone with Coconut, as TMD stayed down with Snort. Coconut liked the one on one time, we had baths together, cuddled till she fell asleep, etc. Was really nice.

Till about eleven pm, when hell cracked open. Cue two very confused and uncomfortable hours where both children are alternating earth shattering screaming, requesting apple juice, and somehow we all ended up together in the lounge. Of course the kids got the couches, TMD was on the floor, and I was sitting upright wrapped in a sleeping bag until I escaped upstairs. Awesome.

I couldn’t sleep most of the night because I found out our friends from our last home, who have a set of twins six months younger than ours, well…both of the parents have cancer. It makes me very anxious to think about it. Very. So I will stop writing now.

Sunday:

Snort much better. Coco still unwell and fevered. Odd for her because I swear I don’t think she has ever had a fever. I think this is the flu. Again, not much can be said about today except that Snort wanted to have some fun, but was trapped in by the rest of us. He and TMD did go on a mercy mission to buy bananas and chocolate bourbons, but again, lots of everyone laying around, wanting an adult to lean on.

Had a post bathtime discussion with Coconut where she clarified she wants to learn to read now, and was keen for me to teach her. Uh, okay. I thought she was coming on really well anyway, probably ‘advanced’ for her age, though we don’t place much stock in that, and I sort of didn’t think ‘teaching’ was going to be required. Well, whatever. I anticipate staying in again tomorrow so people can continue to mend, and if we don’t all go batshit stir crazy, perhaps she’ll be reading Shakespeare by nightfall. Wish me luck! Ha.

Monday:

Woe is me, etc etc. Kids much chirpier and playing, but still spouting snot and coughs and gag induced vomiting over fever medicine. TV is finally blessedly off, though, as they are no long limpets on the couch. I guess that’s a good thing. I still feel like a limpet, though.

Um, writing this next bit Tuesday night. Yesterday is a blur. I had a great hour and a half in the morning where I actually did some stuff around the house, played with the kids, and soldiered on pretending I was Ma Ingalls. I even whipped out sharpies and index cards and started labelling the hell out of everything we own in the ‘learn to read’ quest, ably helped by children scribbling pictures on paper and sticking them everywhere with blue tac.

The next thing you know, it’s evening and I have a migraine and everything is shit again.

This is the day I finally understood the phrase ‘touched out.’

Tuesday:

Every single night since The Sickness has been hell. Imagine my delight when I woke up at 8 am. I was very confused because normally I have to be up by 7, but…

TMD stayed home from work today and spent the day in a coma in bed. Coconut still has bright red cheeks and can’t stop coughing. Snort is dripping snot but appears to have finally semi-mastered blowing his nose. He also is totally covered in a rash I’ve never seen before. Luckily, we had a pre-booked doctor appointment, so my crazy out of control worry and diarrhoea only had to last twenty minutes before we found out it is viral rash.

My crazy self may have also mentioned to the doctor that Dr Google may have suggested that one of my kids’ constantly itchy bum and crazy personality for the last couple of weeks may be worms, and she was like, well, it’s really fucking common. So is dry skin. So keep the area round the ass lubricated, and hey, let’s treat you all for worms just in case.

This is the day I learned that liquid worming medicine for humans in ‘white banana’ flavour tastes just like banana flavoured Runts, my favourite childhood candy. It was so awesome I wanted to drink the whole bottle.

(It tasted so good I am sharing this gross bit of our lives on here because it made it bearable. In reality, I don’t think this kid has worms but wouldn’t it be great if they DID and this one small spoonful of awesomeness could cure them?)

Snort has not dropped another centile and is, in fact, holding steady at his new shorter centile, somewhere below 50 percent. Coconut holds rock steady at somewhere between the 9th and 25th. You’d have thought I was short. I’m not. I’m tall for a woman, the sperm donor was 6 foot. My parents are both very tall, my sister is a giant (about an inch taller than me, though she claims more) TMD says this is my grandmother’s genes coming through.

I honestly remember nothing about the morning before our 11:40 doctor’s appointment. Genuine giant hole in my recall. At the appointment I ripped a leg muscle by, oh, standing up. So my memory of this afternoon is icing my leg, massaging myself with Arnica, grimacing over (unrelated) sore boobs, and lying still on the couch while the mostly recovered children are acting like wild animals. Snort informs us,’I am all better now. I’m ready for adventures. Swimming pool adventures, outside adventures, even riding in the car adventures.’

I also asked what they’d like to do when they grow up.

Coconut: Be a doctor.

Snort: Be Spiderman! I want to have webs, to have little buttons to push to make webs.

Okay then.

Wednesday:

TMD home sick again after a night of hacking her lungs out and helping children who are also doing so. The air is perfumed with Vicks.

Still, we had a nice family chat this morning. In the autumn we are going abroad with my family, to Italy for a short break, and we were talking about who was going, how we’d get there, etc. We also starting learning the Italian for ‘please,’ ‘thank you,’ ‘hello,’ ‘goodbye,’ and ‘ice cream.’ Obviously the phrase ‘ice cream, please’ garnered much interest, and a talk about what sort of gelato they plan to have. As always, she wants chocolate, he wants ‘white.’ I think their minds will be blown by the gelato displays there.

A few days back we started looking at a guide book of the city we will be in. I think this Italy flavoured learning will probably loosely carry on, reaching fever pitch excitement just before the trip. Still, September is a long time away! We shall see.

The kids and I played a few apps, then spent the bulk of the morning cleaning the kitchen. Coconut is always the first to volunteer to help and is so keen, and Snort joined her. I’m on a mission to get things back on track, and it was great to have help.

We then spent a big hunk of time reading together on the couch, followed by pursuing Coconut’s idea to make glasses like the character in one of the books. She did all the cutting herself while I held the paper. They look totally fierce. She is fierce.

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Snort’s nose dripping is slowing. Coco is still coughing a lot, and both cheeks are bright red. She is also walking the tightrope between low and high fever. We begged off meeting with friends today and tomorrow, and I think that was a solid choice.

The kids played in their rooms awhile, then TMD woke up and played with them. Both my leg muscles on the outside of my thighs are very painful, so it was a relief! I then started getting another wicked headache so came upstairs. I immediately passed out and woke at six, when I discover TMD had watched two Toy Story movies with our recovering kiddos. The kids also spent some ti,e sticking oddly shaped sequin things (a leaping stag, wth) onto card with glitter pens. They also all rescued a butterfly (?) in the garden, and planted more chili pepper seeds in empty butter containers. Snort’s previous batch haven’t grown at all. Coco’s tomatoes are doing okay. And the cool potato experiment we have going, allowing us to see the roots and develop of potatoes, is smashing! Will probably detail this in another post as I bet some of you would like to try it.

Snort is desperate for us to go out and buy Kinder Eggs. He has set up all his cars on the landing upstairs and wants to make a video for YouTube like the ones he watches. Maybe tomorrow will be his lucky day.

Thursday:

Begged off home ed meet up. Coco had a raging temperature in the night and was very unsettled. She is obviously getting better, but on the other hand that fever and the coughing shows she still needs rest. Snort is gutted. He said, ‘Oh, man, please. I want to go on an adventure. Please.’ Adventure is our word for basically everything we do, and considering we haven’t left the house except for the doctor since last Wednesday, we are totally overdue an adventure. I just don’t think today is the day.

Played a few apps, Snort played wildly with his homemade Angry Birds toys, we watched a bit of Toy Story 2. Coco played with our red and white dry lentils in a box filled with some Cars guys. She’s now playing with a toy dog she’s calling Snoopy and taking him to the vet.

Coco then asked to lay down with me. We agreed we’d eat first – her and Snort played like maniacs while I cooked lunch. Then she asked for a cuddle and snuggle. Next thing I know, she’s asleep in my bed. This kid has not slept during the day in almost two years. She’s poorly. So I go hang out with Snort, who also passes out. I enjoy the breeze through the windows, the time to read, and then she wakes up screaming in pain. She’s obviously got another ear infection, on top of everything else. That poor fucking kid. I ran down here to get pain meds and the thermometer, as she’s covered in sweat and raging hot, but she passed back out before I got back upstairs. Add this to Snort’s horrible crackly breathing, and the crazy mom in me wouldn’t be surprised if we end up in hospital.

I jinxed it all. I made a joking comment to TMD this morning like, ‘Man, she will need a nap today after the hell of last night. But I know she won’t sleep. Hell, if she did I’d know to call an ambulance.’ Nice, huh.

And TMD said to me this morning, ‘We are so lucky he’s on his inhalers daily. Otherwise he’d be admitted to hospital with this thing.’ And after days of clear breathing, brotha needs rescue inhalers and sounds like I’ve sounded on days I could barely breathe.

Now that I’ve got that all out, I’m sure they will both be fine. I’m also sure we will be cancelling gymnastics tomorrow.

Okay, post nap they were noticeably better. We still essentially hung out in my bed and watched movies. A bit of reading. Coco went to sleep as normal, and Snort was up till all hours due to the gigantic nap.

Highlight of the day was TMD bringing home Kinder Egg knockoffs with mini superheroes inside. Seriously dope. Yes, I said it. Snort’s dreams came true because we made a video of him and Coconut and the beloved eggs against a backdrop of cars. He watched his video a lot. I’d show it to you, but we discovered too late he was bottomless and this ain’t that kind of blog.

Friday:

Went to Nana’s, which was possibly too much as Coco spent much of the day in her tired zone, where she constantly gets hurt and then cries. Once home, Snort kept falling asleep sitting up and I experienced hell trying to keep him awake. Fun day, though.

We did lots of free play, drew pictures, chased bubbles in Nana’s garden, and unravelled a ball of red wool multiple times and spun a giant web in the lounge, then pretended to be bank robbers and stepped around/under them. I also invented a wicked game – well, bastardised an existing one. Have you ever done that team building exercise where you write your name at the top of a paper then hand it round….everyone writes a nice comment then folds it over so no one can see what they’ve written. I did that but with sight words, lots of names that are important to us, emotion words, random words, etc. The folding meant they only had one word to focus on at a time, but at the end a sheet of about ten words to pick words from. Sounds lame but was totally fun. I swear.

Only other noteable from this day is that we have been talking about right and left for a few weeks. As we got into the car, I made a crack about wondering if I would remember how to get to Nana’s house since it had been so long since we’d been there. Cue two kids who gave me perfect directions. ‘You’re going to turn left here at the shops.’ ‘Right! Turn right here! No, I mean the next street!’ Was cool.

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Figuring out what authentic means. Motherhood and me-ness. Just being.

April 18, 2013

I read a status update on Facebook by an unschooling page I follow. It was essentially all about how difficult it can be to support others, to inspire them, and always have to push your own dreams aside. That it is okay to never achieve your dreams if you help others. The line that really hit me was something like, ‘Sometimes I feel I will always live on the edge of a black pit, helping others climb of their black pits.’ That resonated. Strongly.

The author finished the post by saying hey, that’s okay! This is the good life.

That bit didn’t so much resonate.

Parenting requires, no, DEMANDS more squashing of self than I could have ever prepared for. Of course, I transform, I submerge myself with abandon into this new life, mostly. I want my children to be more courageous and creative than I am, and I feel that I play an instrumental role in allowing them to explore, to be who they are, to experiment and wonder. I want them to be curious and engaged and philosophers. Scientists. Artists. Literary giants.

I don’t begrudge them these things. Sometimes I question myself and my own motives, wondering if I am already trying to live vicariously through them. I pull myself back. No one deserves that pressure, we all need to be our own selves in the most authentic way we can. And that doesn’t come from other people telling us how to live or what to think.

So this status update made me angry, and made me sad, and made me THINK.

Then a lone sliver, a wisp as white and frail as anything else, floated across my mind. That one of my happiest and most fulfilling times in life was at camp. And my job, my life, was about inspiring children, young people, and adults. To help foster an environment where children could play and learn how to be themselves and take risks in a supportive environment. My life was all about helping others, and fuck, was I happy.

But I can’t lie. The campers at that place fucking loved me, and that fuelled me. I was able to be more fully, authentically me there than I had ever been anywhere else. The crazier I dressed, the weird impulse to shave my head, the outrageous singing and making a fool of myself – the more me I was, the more people loved me. And so, of course, that sweetest of lessons helped me grow and be joyful.

I feel on the cusp now, but it isn’t the same cusp I know and am old frenemies with. This cusp has that black pit on one side. I don’t know about the the other side.

The grand dreams, the feeling of factual endless possibilities, I don’t think it is there anymore. Those things may actually be in my own black pit. I think of my best friends I’ve known fifteen years, longer. How we all started with big dreams, and the certainty they would come true. I’ve watched people’s dreams deflate, and I’ve mostly felt sad about that. Because I know what we are all capable of.

But now a quiet voice says, find a third way. You don’t have to always give of yourself so constantly and consistently, this is a season in your life. When that voice is pushy, it asks uncomfortable questions about what sort of model I am being for my children. When it is melancholy, it asks what sort of life I am living for myself. Can I look up to me?

How am I so good at inspiring others, at believing wholeheartedly what I say, but then I sit here, in my tattered and comfortable slippers, perched on the edge of a black pit?

Maybe it is the time to look for an overgrown path. It’s small, dusty. Meandering. I’m not sure where it leads, but I do know it is away from that pit.

Or maybe it is still the time to sit here. Trying to rest and regroup when I get small moments, stretching my neck and checking my supplies. Casting my eyes about for that path, debating if I even want that path, or something else. I’d like my black pit edge to have a stream for my feet to rest in, but then I don’t want it to be too comfortable.

So I sit here, helping my children be and believe in themselves.

While I wonder who I am. That old me, who is still in Country A, laughing in thunderstorms and driving golf carts wildly? Eating ice cream in the summer twilight?

The impossible me who was brave enough to move across the world for true love?

The new and older me, who is often achey and short tempered?

I think I’m all those, but I feel I’m something else, too. Maybe my dreams have shifted, maybe I don’t want to chase them, maybe I’m just taking a breather. Maybe it’s easier to try to forgive myself for not trying at this moment in time. Maybe it’s okay to not know. Maybe it’s fine to let the sun warm my back, to sip water, to extend a hand to others. Maybe it’s not my time. Not yet.

Maybe it will be, soon.

True pregnancy dreams – about labour, babies, and aliens.

June 15, 2009

Haven’t had any crazy pregnant-lady dreams lately, and last night I was graced with three disturbing ones in a row. No doubt this is due to the little scare we had last night wondering if my waters were leaking. I don’t think they are, but you know me: worry, worry, worry. My ‘little right spot’ (you know, the whole undiagnosed fake appendicitis, burst cyst thing) was also hurting last night.

Dream one: I was in an elevator and lifted my shirt to show someone the baby movements. Then I clearly saw a distinctive hand pressing against the skin. As I was being all gawky and awe striken, the hand kept getting more defined until I could see the wrinkles in each individual finger. Yes, then the baby CAME OUT through my stomach. It was a giant black baby who instantly started rooting for my nipple. I was like, ‘No, you can’t eat! You have to go back in my stomach!’ He was also GIANT FAT HUGE, and said to me, ‘Please stop eating.’

He wouldn’t go back in, so I decided to take him to the hospital. Somewhere between the elevator and the hospital, the baby shrunk down and I put him into a little tupperware box with no lid. He also suddenly had five or six babies of his own – they looked like mini Beanie Babies from McDonald’s, but they were alive. He promptly ate the frog.

This baby ALSO turned into a little alien, with one eye in the middle of his forehead. (Because of course, why wouldn’t a frog-eating baby that magically pushed itself through my stomach skin also be an alien in disguise?) I was very worried about keeping him (and his babies) warm and dry.

As I arrived in the hospital, I realised the staff would probably have me committed because the babies (?) in my little plastic box looked like stuffed toys. A nurse walked up to me and, again, I lifted my shirt to show how the other one was still moving. And yes, she pushed her hand out, then emerged.

Fin dream one.

Woke up around three, went pee, checked my knickers, went back to bed.

Dream two? HORRIFIC.

I was having bad cramping in my lower abdomen, and when I went to the toilet I called out for TMD in a panic as there was blood in my underwear and on the toilet paper when I wiped. I was wearing a long nightgown, blood dripping down, and I ran through the hospital screaming, ‘Somebody help me! I’m only 29 weeks with twins and I’m bleeding!’

The blood kept coming in drips and drabs, and the staff didn’t tell me what was going on. Eventually it became clear they were going to deliver the babies via c section immediately. As they wheeled me to the surgery (me still feeling intense cramping, contractions, a baby’s head against my cervix, and an incredible need to push), I felt slightly amazed that my body knew just what to do – when to push, how to breathe, etc.

Then the nurse stopped before a display of leaflets – about organ donation. Just the thing you want to see when you are being wheeled in for major surgery, eh? (I should pause to say that last night I told TMD I was afraid of being pregnant in case it made me die. There is no need for logic in the evenings: that’s the new rule.) I pushed myself away from them, saying I didn’t want to think about organ donation now, and that TMD knew my wishes if anything happened.

Then I was wheeled into an operating theatre that had shit tons of beds – the area they had me go into had a CORPSE covered by a sheet being wheeled out and into a connecting door. Oh, yes, it was handy. The operating room joined up with a giant funeral parlour.

So there I am, still bleeding and in pain. The surgeon offered me some olives on bread to keep my strength up, I’m telling them that  TMD needs to be in there for the births, etc etc. It just dragged on and on – including a nice juicy shot of stitches falling out of my vagina.

Woke up at six to pee, noticed I had cramping, freaked out mildly as I wondered if I had been cramping badly in real life and that’s why I dreamed about it. Decided to lie there for awhile and just see what happened.

Well, you guessed it. I feel back asleep.

The third dream involved me telling TMD to sleep with men, and then getting really upset when she did it. It’s more complex than that, but don’t really feel like getting into it. It was disturbing, but in a completely different way than the premature labour/bleeding/surgery/impending death dream. Whereas the first dream was a bit kooky and worrying, yes, but when I woke up I sort of found it amusing as it was clearly a ‘pregnant’ dream.

ANYWAY.

That’s it on the dream front. I fucking hate it when other people write about their dreams in their blogs, so commendations if you actually read this. Woke up for real around 8, with cramping that I finally decided was actually in my lower back. Little right pain still minorly there, but uh.

I think I am feeling insecure about being home alone when dodgy things are happening, especially because both TMD and the hospital are so far away – and in opposite directions.

In other news, however, I had the brainstorm to wear my Florida bikini top in lieu of being braless or being choked by the vicelike grip of my current bras. (Remeasured and have transformed into a 44 C.) This pink bikini top is magic as it is all ties – so I can determine the band tightness. Plus it puts me in a party mood, with my flirty little pink tie behind my neck.

Yeah.

Can you hear the crazy chanting: welcome to my mind, this is the shit my brain thinks about when I am asleep. It is like being trapped in ‘It’s a Small World’ at Disney World for months at a time. Looney tunes.

Pregnancy makes me feel like I imagine a guy trapped alone on a submarine for thirteen months would feel when he got ashore and saw a naked woman for the first time.

May 21, 2009

Last night I went to sleep feeling a bit randy, shall we say.

Sometime before dawn I had a sexy dream and had an orgasm (not uncommon for me, but more common when I am pregnant). I haven’t had a dream orgasm since the No Sex rule was introduced – not that my dream self hasn’t tried. But dream TMD reminds me time and time again that I am not allowed to have orgasms this far into our twin pregnancy.

So, this orgasm. I woke up to my uterus contracting, hard. My entire bump sort of shrunk and went harder than the hardest thing you can imagine. I sleepily thought, Well, fuck. I’ve had an orgasm. Feel how hard my stomach is. Damn my dream self. I wonder if it will…. and then fell back asleep.

Woke up a few hours later and was pleased to feel my tum was back to its normal self. Interesting that I spend time lying on my side, fingertips against my bump, wondering how the fuck I am supposed to feel ‘tightenings’ when my bump is always the same.

(I do think I have painless Braxton-Hicks some evenings, when it feels like the bump has saran-wrapped itself to the babies, but not entirely positive…)

I think my dream-gasm showed me that if I have a strong contraction, there’s really no mistaking it. So that’s one good thing that has occured from my unconscious self getting jiggy. Bad unconscious self. You naughty, naughty girl.

*rrrwwwoooaaarrrrr*

No, I’m not a psychoanalyst. I’m warm and fuzzy.

April 28, 2009

Let’s be all psychoanalytical together, okay? Well, maybe not analytical. After all, when I talk about umbrellas I don’t want you assuming I’ve been raped by my father or anything like that. (Oh, ha ha, a joke possibly funny only to those in the profession? Or all? I don’t know.)

I had a stressful dream this morning. I was with a group of people – Green and three others I didn’t know – and we were travelling to Costa Rica. Everyone else got checked in just fine, but I somehow only got a ticket for halfway. It went to the layover spot, but then I didn’t have a boarding pass for the second half. This was a bit confusing as I had assumed it was a direct flight. I went from one airline staff person to another, getting increasingly distressed that no one seemed that bothered about the fact that I didn’t have a ticket to go the whole way.

Obviously this is about pregnancy, no? I’m 23 weeks today – that’s 15 weeks till Splash Down (as I’m due to deliver at 38 weeks). I’m embarking on the second half of pregnancy, and this week will be nice to complete, as babies are viable from 24 weeks. Clearly I’ve got some anxiety about the second half of pregnancy – and whether or not I’ll be able to make it the whole way.

Fine. I don’t need to re-enter therapy to figure that dream out.

But what about the one with the worms in it? Now that was a grade A champion gross out dream, and also very distressing. No doubt an analyst would have much to say about it.

Anyway.

zz7

Feel like we have loads of baby stuff now, even if I still don’t totally believe we’re going to have two babies soon.

April 27, 2009

Okay, trying to stay productive and happy this week so that I am not a mess of quivering lonely nerves by the end of it! Had a fantastic weekend.

Went to a big baby sale (at a national chain) on Saturday – had to use one of those big ass motorized wheelchair shopper things. The old guy who gave it to me warned me that other shoppers would think I was ‘invisible’ in it. I was like, ‘I’m in a frame of metal and plastic. They can ignore me at their peril.’ We also went out for lunch. I was in quite a bit of pain after all that, but it was totally worth it.

Yesterday TMD’s mum and step-dad came up to visit. They went with TMD to a nearly new baby sale (I wanted to go SO BAD but thought it was probably better to not!) and then, yes, lunch out. I relished getting out and about, particularly as there was sun and lots of flowers.

We got kickass baby stuff, most of it at HUGE discounts. Including the playmat courtesy of eBay on Friday, we got:

two playmats (different but both awesome)
nappy bin
bottles, etc
bottle steriliser
bouncer with enough snazzy shit on it we are calling it ‘Vegas’
unbearably awesome cot mobile
cat net
top n’ tail bowl
clothes
clothes
more clothes
baby bath box with toiletries (think Caboodles for baby. YOWsa)
cotton balls, nipple pads, maternity pads, bath sponges
a few awesome toys
a bunch of stuff I’m sure I forgot

TMD’s mum also brought over stuff to show us – baby sleeping bags, awesome cardigans, blankets, books, shawls. She is so gorgeous and is going to buy scratch mitts, bottle warmer, and car seats! Sil and Bil are buying our pram.

I’ve also been hunting for this foam twins nursing cushion I have heard Really Good Shit about. Finally someone put one on eBay – unfortunately, it’s in the country where I was born. The pillow is like a tenth of the price new, but the SHIPPING is outrageous. Still, with the conversion rate we’ll be paying about half the price of buying it new here, maybe a little less. The funny part? I logged into my resident online baby hangout, and some woman has messaged me to say she wants to sell her freakin’ pillow and she lives very nearby!

We’ll see if the eBay thing works out – if not, hopefully I can still snag this local cushion.

We have a few smaller things to get now, but the biggies remaining are two cot beds, wardrobe, changing station/storage unit. We have gone from zero to hero in about 48 hours.

I feel guilty about Torre. All the clothes people are buying are ‘little boy’ clothes, and I feel like Torre is getting ignored because we don’t know if she is really a she. And if she is a he, I still feel like these clothes were intended for Mano and Torre has been left out! I do hope we find out what little Torre is at the next scan.

Anyway, have a lot of stuff to do today (well, compared to doing nothing and watching Maury all day) so going to get started. It’s chilly and grey out, and the breezes through the open windows are decidedly nippy. It’s semi-nice, though. At least TMD is working a normal length day today, though after work she has to go to a town about a half hour away to pick up some more baby stuff we got from Freecycle.

I just feel sleepy and like I want to take a nap. Mmmm….cozy nap with a sheet or something. (I no longer need blankets, apparently.) Two nights ago I had a terrible miscarriage dream, and last night I had a premature baby dream – where we ended up with triplets instead of twins. All systems were go, despite having them early. I hope this trend of scary dreams ends soon, I’ll say that much.

Okay. Off to make phone calls.

You can’t help what life throws at you.

February 27, 2009

Read the previous post to find out why I asked a midwife if I was supposed to shove a little plastic stick in my vagina. Read this post for more about the appointment!

Got the results for the combined Nucal test. This allows each baby to be given a risk factor for Down’s Syndrome. Both were low risk. The midwife said low risk is normally categorised as 1 in 800 babies. One baby was 1 in 4900, and the other was 1 in 4300. Little shining stars.

We also got to hear the heartbeats via doppler – she warned us they might still be too little to do so, but we got ’em both…after some hunting around. She found Baby T’s eventually, and then I felt him/her flip away and she lost it again. She managed to find it again after awhile, and it was a nice strong heartbeat. Baby M also wasn’t playing ball – but instead of running away from the probe, she/he kept kicking it! Incredible.

This fits with what we imagine their personalities to be like.

So.

Names.

I had a dream when I was five weeks pregnant (before I had the emergency scan after being run over and found out it was twins) that we went in for a scan. Both babies were boys. The first was big, the second smaller but very well defined – he actually talked to me through the scan.

This was a nice dream, if a little funky. The disturbing part is what their names were in the dream. Names we would NEVER call a baby, even for pretend, and somehow…well, they’ve stuck. Don’t worry. We’re not going to name them these names. But I think the babies are stuck with them until August.

Baby 1 is on  my lower left side. His/her name? Mano.

Baby 2 is higher up and on the right. His/her name? Torre.

Both with ludicrous Spanish pronounciations. I know.

In other news, we’re apparently ‘planning to deliver’ at 38 weeks pregnant, as the babies will be mature and I will be ‘very fed up’ by that point. The consultant was very pro vaginal birth, assuming they were both head down, so that was nice. I can’t help but note that 38 weeks is 11 August. Our anniversary (nine years!) is 15 August. Crazy stuff.

My tummy is all bruised now. ALL bruised.

November 25, 2008

I had a dream about the donor last night.

He was cute, friendly, open, and willing to meet with us face-to-face. We don’t want that in real life, but it was nice in the dream. A willingness for us to get to know him (it’s still a wee bit of a sticking point that the donor they offered didn’t complete a pen sketch. I never would have thought I wanted one, but now that I’m a donor myself I do!).

He brought along a little blond girl – absolutely adorable. We were all in a car, and the little girl was snuggling up to my mom. Fast forward in time, and we had a little dark haired daughter.

And….we totally fucked her up. Yes, sperm donor and me were considering having an affair, and I felt guilty about TMD. I think our daughter witnessed an argument.

NICE dream.

I can psychoanalyse the second part away quite easily, but the first part was reassuring. By the time I left work yesterday, I felt pretty good about the donor. (And during the dream as well, as apparently he’s only ever had daughters. Not that I’m prejudiced against boys, but, well….We’ve got a girl name all picked out and everything. Boy names are harder.)

TMD did not. She was not pleased about his country of origin. I told Aussie about it this morning, and she said, ‘I would REFUSE to have a donor from there. The baby would be born racist!’ Still, we’re all crazy together. I’m not uncomfortable with him. Just stick it in me, that’s my new evolved attitude.

However, TMD had a strong reaction to his country and his religion. She accepts the religion thing is crazy,  but has a big problem with this country. So, we’ll see. I just fired off a business like yet grovelling email (hard to strike that exact tone, but I managed it well) to the clinic saying that we want to see more profiles before we commit to a donor. We have always been led to believe we would get three, so three I asked for.

Seeing as we need this sperm quite soon, I hope the dude replies. I already had a minor worry about him being on leave or something. If I don’t hear by this afternoon, I’ll ring.

TMD had a conversation with the receptionist about how needy/crazy we are. The receptionist assured us that all the women the clinic sees fall into that category, and at least we are friendly. It’s quite an accomplishment to make the semi-bitchy receptionist like us, so that’s good. We’re best friends with the other one.

I tell you, you can never neglect to understand the full importance of receptionists – or people with behind-the-scenes jobs. They are the lifeblood of companies and clinics….and invaluable when it comes to this whole baby making process.

And how’s it going? I slept on the couch last night. Took a notion that that would be the only acceptable place to sleep. When my alarm went off this morning, I rolled over and reached for the floor. YOWZA. Ripping pain in my left ovary.

I can safely say it’s becoming quite uncomfortable to walk, I feel like I have to pee much of the time, and – GOOD. I am pleased to feel this way, to have ovaries that are kickin’ it and working hard. If I gave my ovaries a montly salary, this month I would give them a bonus. As it is, they are essentially unpaid labourers, so I can just pat my tummy and say thanks.

(You like how I said ‘essentially’? I don’t know why I inserted that word. They ARE unpaid labourers. Unless they get satisfaction from doing the job well, month after month. Hmm. Something to ponder.)

A loooooooooooong night.

September 24, 2008

I’ve been going to bed really early due to all the early morning doctor’s appointments. I ended up asleep early again last night, despite knowing this was a ‘normal time’ morning. (And I ran into John again at the train station. Odd guy, but sort of nice to have a train station friend. Like when you were in university and had ‘class friends.’)

The consequence of going to bed so early meant I woke a lot through the night. Ah, the better to remember my IVF dreams. I must have have five different dreams about it. When I’d wake up, I’d think about IVF or an anxiety-provoking session I have scheduled with a client today.

All of the dreams centred around the injections I have to give myself/make TMD give me. The worst one was being in hospital and being taught how to do it – I had two injections. One with a blue top, one with a red. One HAD to go in this vein in the back of my left thigh, the other HAD to go in the back of the other thigh. I couldn’t remember if I’d put the right medication in each vial, I couldn’t remember which went in which leg, etc.

And worse than all that, I simply could not put the needle against my skin and push.

Anxiety, what what?

Innnnnnnnnnteresting.

August 12, 2008

Had what some therapists would call a ‘big dream’ last night/this morning. Kleinette was there as a main player; I suppose this isn’t terribly surprising as I have been thinking about her for a couple of days.

I’m not sure why, though. I have just thought that next week is my grandmother’s death anniversary, and Kleinette and my grandmother have been interchangable at points in my dreams.

No matter the why, it was an illuminating dream. It involved my father, abuse, and some unconscious bits becoming conscious. Rather than feeling terrified or overwhelmed, I remember (very vividly) feeling like a light bulb had clicked on. A moment of clarity that I knew would last, a sort of ‘so THAT explains it.’ Maybe a relief.

And Kleinette was there in a supportive way. I was quite mean to the younger version of M, a girl I went to primary school with. Kleinette was there to witness what might have been perceived as meanness (though it wasn’t, really). She was just sort of there while I spoke my mind to other people, a comforting presence. Can’t totally remember her connection to the whole understanding of my past, but I just remember a background sort of reassurance.

Weird to dream about her. Dreams featuring Kleinette, even when I was in therapy, were few and far between. I don’t want to be a head-up-their-own-analytical-ass type of counsellor here, but I do think this may merit thinking/feeling about. At any rate, it was nice to see her face.