Bea

when i found out about you

One year ago today my period was four days late. I had turned 35 four days before, and the thought that I might be pregnant just as I turned 35, the magic number for doctors and fertility, was just to poetic to consider.

I had been late before, what woman hasn't? I had wasted pregnancy tests for months. 

That morning I took a pregnancy test and wasn't surprised that it was negative. Disappointed, again, but not surprised. I put the test down on my desk and went to work. 

When I came home I put my laptop bag by my desk and glanced at the pregnancy test. There was a second line.

Now I know that you're not meant to read pregnancy tests after their defined limit, usually just 10 minutes. I knew that then but can not tell you the internal debate that was going on in my head. Did I really wait the full 10 minutes this morning? I must have looked at it again AFTER 10 minutes, before I went to work, didn't I? Don't be ridiculous, that's an evaporation line - isn't it? I've heard about them, but never seen them, but maybe that's it.

My heart was literally racing and ready to jump out of my chest. My gut was telling me one thing (YES!!) and my brain was working so hard to tell me another (NO!!).

David came home. And I couldn't tell him. 

Strangely, I had no more pregnancy tests in the house. This is likely because I had used them all up during the days before. I went for a walk - an hour long walk to calm my nerves, and buy more pregnancy tests. I crossed my legs for the next 5 hours as we had dinner, went to a book store, watched some t.v.

As I was going to bed, I took another test. Faint, but definite positive line in about a  minute. 

Holy. Crap.

I still didn't tell David. I took another test the next morning. Faint, but stronger, second line. I called the doctor, made an appointment for a blood test that afternoon and an appointment to see the doctor  about the results the next morning. 

When I got home from work, I took another pregnancy test. And then told David. He was quiet and listened while I took him through the myriad of pregnancy tests I had been storing in my office. He assured me that, yes, he too saw the second line. 

That day, we were parents together. It was all exciting and scary and new. 

We are not parents today. That pregnancy didn't last long, at least not physically. But that baby is still in my thoughts and still in my heart. I have a feeling that it always will be. 

36-20=16 - a birthday story

During my teenage years my Dad had to deal with some super-bad corporate crap that had him laying off colleagues and friends of 15 years. These were people that emigrated to Canada at the same time as my parents, and whose children I baby sat and still count as my 'cousins'. 

He worked so hard for that company. Long hours and traveling that often meant that my brother and I would see little of him. Dad would drive us to our early-morning band practice for 6 am and it wouldn't have been unusual not to see him again until 8 or 9pm at night. 

All this work led to some pretty grumpy days and a man who, I can see now, found it hard to connect with his family outside of his job. Sure, mom worked outside of the home too, but Dad was the main breadwinner and without that there wouldn't have been much. He was a mans' man, and as such felt that he should be providing for us. 

As a surly 15 year old teenager I HATED the fact that my Dad wouldn't or couldn't talk to me. How DARE HE? DIDN'T HE KNOW WHO I WAS? All that teenager angst must have been so waring on him. I have memories of Dad banning me to wear that short skirt and can still feel the air of disapproval at staying out late. It was only him trying to protect me, but what teenage what's protecting? NONE. 

Just before my 16th birthday, things at Dad's job were getting demonstrably worse. There was talk of his job being relocated to the states, and if there's one thing a teenager does not want it's to leave her friends behind her. The potential tragedy was milked for all the attention I could get.

I guess what I'm saying is, I was a little shit.

As my birthday got closer and closer, things at my Dad's job got worse and worse. The day before my birthday, my Dad came to me and asked if it would be ok if Mom dropped me off at the mall for a few hours on the night of my birthday. His bosses were coming to the house to talk to him and they needed the house to be quiet and professional.

Despite my teenage attitude, I loved my Dad like nothing else. Of course I would make myself scarce, and the mall is no bad place for a teenage girl to hang out, right?

On the night of my birthday, my Dad got all dressed up in his suit and my Mom wore her Sunday best. They looked so nervous, so anxious. Somehow, all of that filtered through my crusty exterior and I managed to give Dad a hug as I left the house with Mom.

Mom dropped me off and promised to pick me up in precisely 2 hours.

When she picked me up, she looked almost happy. I couldn't ask how it went, I think I was too scared. But man, did she look relieved. I so hoped we were staying where we were - moving was too horrible to think about. 

When we got home, Mom said that Dad was downstairs in the basement and wanted to talk to me. Cue dread - I KNEW that the news was bad. Why else would my Dad want to speak to me alone?

What I found at the bottom of the stairs is still stuck in my minds eye today.

15 of my very BESTEST friends yelling 'SURPRISE!"

My very own 16th surprise birthday party. Stunned doesn't even describe how I felt. I'm sure that it's from that day forward that I began to see my Dad as a person, as a parent, and as a Dad who was crazy about me. 

What memory of your parents is still bringing tears to your eyes today?

falalalalalalalala- i know it's too freakin' early!

You know what sucks at this time of the year? Colds, that's what. It's all expected when you live in the northern hemisphere, but down here it should be getting warmer and we should be more worried about preventing sun burn that preventing a cold. But that's what I got, a big stinking cold. 

This has led to me being bed-ridden for the past couple of days, and not in a sexy kind of way. I can't think of a stronger argument for abstinence than snot running down your partners face. HOT. 

On a positive note, I've been sorting things out for the family birthdays of this month and, hold on to your seats for this one, writing out Christmas cards. I KNOW.

This is some sort of record for me. I'm sure friends and family will be concerned about my mental well-being should their Christmas card arrive, oh I don't know, like before Christmas? I told you I was sick.

Anywho, one of the things I do like about Christmas cards is picking the right ones. I'm a stickler for stationary and could easily spend hours and gazillions browsing the local stationary store. Alas, our local stationary store hasn't got the quality or variety of stuff I long for. And so I have been searching.

Ahoy, there's Paper Culture! Now, listen, yes this is a bit of a plug, but I really DO love their paper products. Because look at the type of stuff they do:

Does that not make your visual heart sing? Me too. Yes, I know it's not a Christmas card, but I couldn't resist showing you.

I'm thinking of these:

 
They're non-traditional enough to show up in the hoards of regular cards, but still very Christmas-y. 

Can I tell you the best part about Paper Culture? You can individually message each card and have them sent out for you, all for just the cost of the stamp! Do I have to explain how great this is for me?

Every year I spend tons of time driving in my car to the right store to find the right cards then drive back home to spend hours filling out those cards, then drive to the post office and spend lots of money sending the cards to our friends and family who live on the other side of planet earth. Can you see how I'm killing the planet with this action plan? If you can't breathe, it's Christmas' fault. 

Anyway, if you're so inclined to take a look, you can click on this link here. Think of the time you'll save! YOU'RE WELCOME.

Disclaimer: I told you I would tell you if I get paid to tell you about a product, so here I am doing just that. But just like I said I would, I'm only telling you about this product because I like it too, ok? Thanks!

it's like planning for a first date, but I've never dated a whole team

The waiting list, it was meant to be sooooo long. 6 months, they said! 8 weeks is all it took. Waitemata District Health Board, FTW!

I have an appointment with the Gynecology Team. Yes, A WHOLE TEAM. Is it me, or does that sound a little drastic? Do they have to send an advanced team and have a rescue team available just in case? I'm not sure that having a team address my gynecological issues fits within my marriage vows. 

November 18th is the date. Should I be planning to wear my best undies in order to make a good impression?

Just the two of us (no, it's not just about me, REALLY!)

You know, with this blog being all about ME and MY life it's easy to forget that there are two of us here. I know that I write about David (did you know he did a MARATHON last weekend?) during some of my posts, and that you must know that he's clearly part of the pregnancy plan. I'm feeling guilty, though, that not one of my posts considers how he might be feeling.

I'm going to take a stab in the dark and say that I'm not the only one who's done this. After all, he's a mans man, not all emotional and soft like some men can be (GOOD LORD I could NOT stand those men and that's why I didn't marry them) but of course, he still has emotions. He just shows them in different ways. 

I also know that he's an emotionally strong person. He must be, he married me. I'm the first to admit that I can be a difficult person to live with. I have issues, most of which have been dealt with during some very good (=expensive) therapy sessions, that I deal with every day. And yes, I can be a *cough* little emotional at times. Ok, fine, a LOT emotional at times. 

But he has issues too. David has things that he needs to deal with. Things that, regrettably, I can't help with. And man, that hurts. Because I WANT to fix things. I want to talk it through, give him hugs, tell it's all ok, commiserate when people are shits, offer to break knees with baseball bats...that kind of thing I'd do a million times over for him.

But it won't work. Because he's a man. And needs to sort through his issues in his own way. Goddammit.

Understanding how I can help, how I can support, is a difficult thing for me. I don't know, sometimes, how he's feeling about work, or his parents, or living in New Zealand. I don't know if he still thinks about our first miscarriage. I do know that I need to choose the right time to ask. 

So, I wait. I wait until he's ready to talk, until we're out in the open air where we are relaxed enough to share what's swimming around our heads. I give time, as much as I can, and wait. I make cups of tea and coffee, and wait. I wash clothes, clean floors, and wait. 

I'll wait until the end of time, if that's what it takes. Because I love him, and always will.

A quick thanks to DIY Father for making me realise how self-centered I can be. And the blog is feeding that. Pregnancy, babies, it's all about US, and them. 

Wherein I scare you with naked crawling. Life Lists: they'll be the death of me.

You know how one of my items is to have my own business? And how recently I had to admit that progress on that particular project was going a little slower than I hoped. 

We can add the triathlon to that category too. 

Last Wednesday I was running along and feeling great. I've always struggled with running, but I actually felt good Wednesday. It was a 60 minute run, and by 45 minutes I was feeling strong - but then felt a twinge in my left ankle. Nothing major, but a twinge. By the time I stopped at 60 minutes and started walking to cool down, it was BAD. Limping, dragging my left leg, take 20 minutes to walk 100m bad. 

By the time I got out of the shower, had dinner and did a little reading, it was throbbing. Then I got up to go to bed. And fell to my knees.

I couldn't walk. Since David was away, I had to crawl to bed. Sad enough, yes. But then I remembered that I had not locked the front door. INTERNET, THIS IS WHERE YOU WANT TO TURN OFF YOUR MINDS' EYE. Because then I crawled to the front door, naked. WHAT? Like I was going to get dressed to crawl on the floor. Don't judge me. 

The cats looked really confused. 

I'll still be doing the triathlon on December 13th, but with the ankle injury I won't be as fast as I hoped. 

I may be down, but I'm not out. 

Business Launch! Eventually, anyway. (Life List: An update)

Remember when I was all brave and courageous and starting a business ? I was so sure that November 1st was going to be launch date, it was all going so well! I have products, logos, a business plan, and a web developer just ready to go as soon as I press 'start'. 

Only, I've got a little hiccup.

You see, these products and logos and web developers cost money. And while I could get away with a little bit of credit and some smaller orders for product, and roped my very talented sister-in-law to do the logos, the web developer needs considerably more money than my bank balance allows.

This was ok when it looked like I was going to secure another contract in my day job. Not one as lucrative as the last one, but one that would keep me going and allow me to pursue the business. Now, that contract isn't happening.

I've got a couple of small projects on the go that let me pay bills and have a coffee now and then, but nothing that will let me build and launch an online business. That sucks. 

So, I'm giving myself a little lee-way. I was all head strong and stubborn to make it happen by any means possible by November 1st. Clearly, November 1st has been and gone and there's no business to be seen. I'm disappointed, but philosophical. Just because I've hit a bit of a set-back doesn't mean it won't happen. Heck, I'm still planning and working for it to happen before the end of the year. I don't want this to be on my 2010 resolutions list.

I guess what I'm saying is: give me a break. Yes, I know I didn't meet the self-imposed goal. But that's no reason to abandon it all together, is it? I don't know about you, but when I don't meet my own goals I'm at risk at giving up completely. Which is a bit harsh. What's that about you being your own worst critic?

Here's the deal: give me a break and I'll give you a break. I promise to keep working hard on this business, give it my very best effort to get it up and running before 2010, and I'll be sure to support you in the one (or more) thing that you'd like to achieve before the end of the year.

Small or big, it doesn't matter what it is. Just share it. I know that if we share it, we're more likely to accomplish it. Sooner or later. 

p.s. if you know of a GREAT website developer for a reasonable price, please let me know! I need an e-commerce solution that won't break the bank!

9 hours of Pride and Prejudice and this is what I’ve learned

Let’s call it cultural enrichment, and ignore the part where I was in bed for 8 hours of the 9. I’ve been so dedicated to the project, I’ve watched both the Keira Knightly version AND the BBC Colin Firth version.

I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to watch the films. Everybody I know raves about them, and since I love A Room With a View, you’d think PandP would be next on the list. I’ve always been a late bloomer.

In the final hours (!!) of viewing this morning, I was in my bed with coffee and toast (yes, I know how LUCKY I am) I could have sworn my mom whispered ‘I told you so’ in my ear. I mean, she obviously wasn’t in the room, because that would be weird, yet quite amazing in time-and-space travelling way. I think it was one of those weird tricks your mind plays you on, by replaying a conversation you had years ago at a barely audible level.

And the told-you-so wasn’t about loving the movie, even though I do. It was about my wedding dress. What? You didn’t see that link coming?

My mother had mentioned it when we were wedding dress shopping, but I thought she was being a bit dramatic. Mom had said that my dress was a ‘nod’ to my heritage, just like the dress that the Russian assistant had picked out for herself was a nod to her heritage – the Tsar portrait on the train was a dead giveaway.

Call me Miss Elizabeth Bennett:

 

                              

 

Does anybody else see it? Or have I been brainwashed by Mr. Darcy?

sometimes arguments go to far, but I think this is just fine

You sometimes when you have an argument it's only in hind-sight that you realise you may have gone a tad too far? And then you gently back-step and apoligise for your outrageous behaviour?

Do you think that's what this wife is doing?

i need a hero!

Not really, but the song was playing just before he turned the corner and had the finish line in sight. Do I have to tell you how proud I am? 26.2 miles! 

That's MY man in front!