Anniversary
Today is our third wedding anniversary.
Mr Optimist came home with a huge bunch of flowers and a beautiful card.
We had some home-made pumpkin soup and drove to the airport through the rain. Had one of those conversations that you can only have when it is raining (don't know what it is about rain - it clouds the windows but clears the mind). We held hands and agreed to keep going with this AC journey - no matter how many cycles it takes. He sqeezed my knee and reminded me that we will have to take a break occasionaly and hide in some far-away place just for a little while. We laughed - we have a history of hiding on deserted islands (that is where he proposed).
Drive was too short. We hugged, sqeezed breath out of each other and I waved him away through the rain.
It will be long two weeks without him. I miss him already.
Not Pregnant
I woke up last night and stared into the darkness, tears running down my face. I knew, I felt that I was not pregnant.
Nothing happened - there was no blood, no blood test, no HPT and yet I knew.
Mr Optimist is away and still does not know. Samsi knew - she licked my tears and snuggled in the crook of my arm.
Father's day
Tomorrow is father's day - families will be out, strollers will clogg the footpaths and on Monday desks will be covered in colourful cards. I feel sad that Mr Optimist will be left out just the way I am left out on Mother's day. It reminds me of being the only one not picked to play for the school team, the only one left standing on the field.
So, what should I do for Mr Optimist?
For a while I was thinking: 'Nothing - just ignore the day and it will go away'. But then that is not fair - most other men will get presents and have a day out so why should Mr Optimist miss out? Why punish him some more?
But what to do, what to do? The next thought that came to me was to give him a framed picture of Samsi (our cat) and I. Maybe he will put it on his desk... Then I felt another pang of pain - put it on the desk, just like other men put pictures of their children?
I mulled over what to do for a bit longer.
It will be a dinner out and a photo of Samsi and I. For better or worse, that is our family for now - and I am proud of us, just as we are!
Tagged!
OK, so I have been tagged:
5 items in my fridge:
1. Assortment of IVF-related drugs
2. Great pasta sauce
3. Lots of brown paper bags (organic fruit & veg)
4. Cat food
5. Cherry jam (lots of whole cherries!)
5 items in my closet:
1. Bits of ski gear (the rest is in out attick)
2. Lots of scarfs
3. Small bottle of rose water
4. Lots of clothes made by my mum
5. Cat toys (secret stash)
5 items in my car:
1. Mints of some sort
2. Orange peel
3. Pickink rug
4. A set of tools
5. Snow chains
5 items in my handbag:
1. Diary
2. Pencil case
3. Small perfume bottle
4. Chap-stick
5. Some sort of notes or a revison book (Med related)
Who are you?
We sat down to work out who I was.
A Voice From the Past said: 'Ski Racer!'
Nah, won't do. That was way too long ago. Besides, now you have metal screws in your knee and have not raced for nearly 3 years. Sure you love to ski, but you are no longer a ski racer.
'Can I be a Scientist?' Nerd said.
Nope, you are no longer working in the lab - remember? Yeah sure, you keep reading all sorts of science papers but you are not doing research. I can see though why you'd like to call yourself a scientist - you just love being a smart ass!
'Can I be a Med Student - pleaaseee...' Nerd tried again.
Hmm - that's a hard one. Technically you are and you have heaps of textbooks that say that you are but you are not doing quite enough work to be a good Med Student. You just have to admit that you've been too distracted.
'All right, all right.... So what do you think I am?' the Lost One pined.
Let's see... Those science papers you keep reading, they are all fertility related - are they not? You have not been particularly interested in heart and lung stuff but you know your endocrinology pretty well. You are glued to your computer it's almost like you live in cyber space - fertility related cyber space, that is. For you it is not Monday or Tuesday; it is 'Day 18', 'Day 19', 'Scan Day' or 'Trigger Day'. Now, I'd say you are Infertile Woman.
'Oh, come on! Surely I am a bit more than just that!'
That's it for now. We'll re-assess this in a few months time.
'That's not fair! That's too long!'
Well, you'll just have to learn to be patient.
Mr Optimist and Dr Hope
Blood test was a little bit positive. Dr Hope called and said that really there was not much hope but we could test again. He is Dr Hope after all. Mr Optimist said it was better than last time, better than a plain negative. Dr Hope and Mr Optimist both agreed that we should try again. My Pesimist mind and Rebel body laughed - sure, have another bet and another...
Before and after
Life is divided into before and after.For me it used to be before and after the war - Bosnian war of early 1990's that is. The war came in suddenly and stole all I called my way of life. Since then the before and after line moved a couple of times - it became about before and after life in Australia, then about before and after loving the Optimist.Now it is all about before and after infertility. I don't know when infertility became the new line. The realisation downed me one day while standing in our kitchen and staring at the fridge covered in cards. The card with two fish in sepia reminds me of early days with the Optimist. Days when we spent hours in inner city cafes planning adventures - India, Libya, Iran, Bosnia were on our maps. We always had a trip up our sleeve. Then there are cards wishing us well on our wedding day and cards wishing us well on our marriage anniversaries. The 'after' cards include calendar cut outs turned into medical charts - cycle dates, drug doses, test results and appointments are all neatly recorded. Next to the chart is a card with DrHope's numbers. There used to be cards announcing births of friends' babies but these are no longer making it onto our fridge door. The fridge hides multiple boxes of drugs. Optimist has become an expert at injecting me. Injections are our little ritual - like an evening cup of tea.In the freezer is our wedding cake - waiting the birth of our first child. Made by Optimist's grandmother, moved interstate, stored with friends while we worked overseas and saved a couple of times from a failing fridge. In a couple of weeks we move again - the drugs and the cake are moving with us.
