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. 

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?

where my husband is grateful for public health care

A reader (hi Eddie!) commented yesterday that he hoped things were going well (wink wink, nudge, nudge) while we waited for the, hopefully inevitable, call from the health system. And then it hit me that I hadn’t really thought about trying or not trying since I got the letter.

I think a big part of me has just put a ‘tick’ next to that thing on the to-do list, that thing about making a baby, and in my mind I figured that something was in the works so I might as well get on with other things while I wait. That alone, the compartmentalizing of that to-do item, is WORTH ITS WEIGHT IN GOLD.

Do you know how many minutes, hours, days I have spent worrying, counting where I am in this cycle, looking at our social calendar, my work calendar and trying to figure out whether this month, this month right here and no other, will be THE MONTH? Countless, that’s how many. There is not enough Botox in the world to counter-act the two lines that have been created between my eyes from concentration and worry.

There is part of me that feels like time is ticking. Not ticking by like I’m losing time, but ticking down to THE CALL. Its like I have an unknown finite amount of time to get things figured out, set up and sorted so that when THE CALL comes through I’ll be ready. WE will be ready.

It’s probably the most calm, cool and collected I’ve been in a long time. And for that, my husband thanks the Waitemata Health Board.  whr

Disclaimer: (because you knew there had to be one) the calm and serenity you witness here today is not legally binding, and therefore can NOT be used in evidence should the author throw herself into super-analysation mode and commence obsessing about ….anything. It’s a woman’s prerogative.

The Letter

Ah, Waitemata District Health Board. How you amuse me so. What, with your 6 month window for a possible appointment and thinly veiled sarcastic assumption that I would not call you if my situation changed. 

"Please inform us if you no longer require your appointment as we have an excess demand for patients awaiting treatment."

I AM ONE OF THOSE PATIENTS AWAITING TREATMENT. How can I advise you that I don't need the appointment that you have not yet given me?

None-the-less, I am thrilled to be on the waiting list. After all, the waiting part is what you get with free health care. And put that next to not-free health care, and the waiting list looks pretty good. And really, just as well. It's not like the money's rolling in and we've got tons to spare should I find myself knocked up, even though we're working on the money part of the plan too. 

Just in case, if any of you have had a referral gynecology appointment with the Waitemata DHB, pipe up and tell me how it went, won't you? I'm an information junkie, and any experience you have to share will be soaked up like a dry sponge would soak up that glass of wine I just spilled. 

calculators: why math and I have never been friends

It's a well known family fact that I don't like math. Which is a bit unfair, given that math in my mind is all calculus and algebra and not dollars and cents (which is  math I DO like, and apparently and am fairly competent in). 

As a teenager, my inability to get along with math led to an annual trip out to Radio Shack, or Sears, or another generic department store to find the best scientific calculator money could buy to help me through another year of calculations I would never use in my adult life. I went along on the shopping trip because it was one of the few times of the year that I spent with my Dad alone, and for him I think it was because he felt like he was sharing one of his passions with his off-spring. 

Despite my early aversion to math, I'm still finding myself attracted to calculators but of a different kind. And while a couple of weeks ago the calculator I found was most definitely an enemy, this weeks calculator is a little friendlier:

Those are numbers I can march proudly towards my 36th birthday with. Because, after all, it's just a numbers game, right? Heck according to this, sometime in 2010 we will have a 100% CHANCE OF CONCEIVING. I like those odds, however odd they are. 

We're still waiting for the letter from the public health system regarding a referral to their ob/gyn unit and a likely laparoscopy. And no, I haven't called Fertility Associates yet. Lots of excuses, some involving money, and a big one that I can't discuss right here. 

The calculator though, if you're interested, was discovered after completing the fertility survey here. Go ahead and complete the survey if you're been trying to conceive for a while. It took me about 20 minutes and made me feel like I was being all scientific-y.

putting faith in the public health system. no, really!

You know, it's rather refreshing when you're clear on your goals and you just start making things happen. Who knew? Not me!

So this week, returned the book so kindly lent to me by our family doctor and at the same time asked about the referral that she had offered months ago. Turns out, it had been so long ago that I needed to book an appointment again.

On Wednesday I sat with the doctor, again, and discussed my fertility history, again. We talked about how long it had been since we started and about the two miscarriages and how those are good signs that the intended goal of a child is likely quite reachable. And she even suggested that perhaps it's just a 'time' thing.

Which is fine. For her.

But not me. Not us. I'm over waiting and letting time take it's...time. Month by month goes by and it's putting more and more pressure and stress on my relationship with David. And that's not right.

In exchange for my $35 she gave me the number of a fertility advisor and has referred me to the North Shore Hospital Gyn&Obs clinic, where they will likely assess my case and suggest a laparoscopy. The fertility advisor is no longer practicing, but was kind enough to recommend a doctor at the reputed Fertility Associates. This may incur costs etc, but I'm calling tomorrow to see what the deal is.

In the meantime, I'm putting my trust in the public health system that I'll receive the letter from North Shore to see them soon. Hopefully. 

UNIVERSE, ARE YOU LISTENING?!

Knowing what you want your life to be like when you grow up must be such a comforting thing. At least, that's the way I see it now. At 19 I could not have imagined anything worse. How could you possibly know that you wanted to be an engineer/lawyer/teacher and be married/single with/without kids and live near/far from home? How could you know that without experimenting first?

But people do know. 

I remember meeting several people during my first year at university who had it all sussed. They knew what their life plan was and they were hell-bent on making it work. One of them is my best friend, the other is a guy I dated for 4 years during university.

My best friend is, still, my best friend. And she is because we know that we don't share the same goals, but we share the same values. Values like marriage is forever, family comes first and that humour can go a long way to fixing a bad day. She has want she wants now, because she knew what she wanted when we were 19. 

The guy I dated for 4 years? He knew what he wanted too. He wanted to be a lawyer, live in his hometown, marry a teacher, and work alongside his dad. I did not fit in this picture, as hard as I tried. I tried to be the loving, supportive girlfriend who wanted to help his career. I tried to fit in with his family, his friends. I tried to want the same things he did. But I think he knew way before I did, that this is not what I wanted. He has what he wants now, down to the job, house, wife and kids. 

Without knowing what I wanted, I ended up wandering. To the states for a year, then back home for 2, then to another city for 18 months, then to the UK, back home, to the UK...and well, you get the picture. I assumed that, by wandering, what I wanted would just 'come to me', when actually I knew what I wanted and was too scared to say it. Scared that my mother would be disappointed, that others would laugh and assume I wasn't serious. Scared that others would think it the lazy way out, a sign that I wasn't independent enough, that I was letting women around the world down. In fact, the only person I told it to before I meet David, who didn't laugh and simply accepted it as truth was someone I was sure I wouldn't see again. 

And all I wanted was to be married, be loved, have kids. Whatever happened outside of that wasn't really that important.

Now that my current work contract is coming to a close, what I want is becoming overwhelmingly clear. It's urgent (did you see the calendar?!) and needs attention now. But the question is:

HOW?

If the question is how to get pregnant, have income and travel to see my family, what is the answer?

It's the question I'm struggling to answer now. Babies, income and travel are all up for inspection and consideration. We all know how the baby situation is(not) going, and we're working on it, honest. My work experience is varied, spans 3 continents and includes start-ups to multi-national corporations. And if I can get the first two working, I'm hoping that the third will see me travelling like this:

       SOMEONE WAS TRAVELING LIKE THIS WHILE I HAD MY KNEES AROUND MY EARS IN SEAT 49E

numbers, they don't lie. especially when you're 35.

I'm going to tell you something that, if you don't live in New Zealand and are trying to conceive and have been trying for some time, might just make you a little envious and frustrated. Let it be recgonised that I am APOLOGISING IN ADVANCE. 

The New Zealand medical system is so forward thinking that it will actually pay for 2 IVF cycles for qualifying patients. Yup, that's right TWO FREE IVF. Watch the google search engine pick that one up. I'll wait for the millions to join us.

Tick.

Tock.

Ok, so now that we're all together, here's the deal. First, all you kiwis (3..4 of you?) must apologise to everyone else for your good fortune. DO IT. Because this is a big deal. If you've been trying to conceive for a while, and it's not working, and your family doctor has done the tests they feel they should and they are stumped as to why you're still not knocked up they may well (and you should request if you're ready) refer you to a specialist. And that specialist might also do tests, and they may start you on clomid and tell you to 'give it a go'. And if you're still not up the duff, maybe a little clomid, a scan and a bit of IUI*. And then, only then, if you've had a couple of goes and it's still not working and all the planets are aligned and they get the call from the mother ship, you may well be up for your free IVF.

I hope never to get that far.

Having said that, I have spent a fair amount of time on the omnipotent interwebs learning about the menu of options. I'm coming to the end of my rope here. It's been over 2 years, my 36th birthday is coming up and when we starting this whole thing I was but a wee child at just 33. 

The month-by-month suspense of 'am I? aren't I?' is getting old, and far from the excitement of the maybe and closer to wondering if I can do this much longer. Sex should never show up on your weekend to-do list. 

Our doctor has already said that she's willing to refer us on to a specialist. Maybe it's time. Maybe, after weighing up all the options, after deciding what we want, maybe it's just time to bring in the experts. Even though, we so wanted to do this on our own. Even though we thought we had done it on our own. That's hard to let go. 

Normally this sort of post, these sort of feelings, would come at the end of a cycle when it's clear I am not pregnant, again. But here we are, creeping up on day 14 and these thoughts won't disappear. And as if the thoughts weren't enough, I came upon this delightful calculator this morning:

I hope your numbers are better than mine.

*Intra-Uterine Insemination = turkey baster approach

the due date that never was.

And here we are, the due date week. And I'm ok, I made it. I'm not crumbling or distraught or crying or..well, I'm not being dramatic. Wow. Who'd have thunk it?

I had worried that I might fall into a bit of a depression, a bit of a  black hole of 'what if'. Earlier this month I couldn't help but think that I shouldn't be planning to take a trip overseas, and instead should be nesting and getting ready for a new arrival. I thought that maybe it would be too hard to think about this week, about what could and should have been.

Instead? I'm relieved that this heavy week of work is over, happy to take some time out while I figure out what's next, and giddy with excitement over seeing my family next week. My Dad! I'm going to see my Dad! Is there anything better than a Dad hug? I didn't think so. 

So posting will be light over the next week, if at all. Keep an eye out on twitter though, I'll be there for sure.

I'll be taking some time to see the new tricks that neices can do, discuss the possibility of rocket ships

with nephews, and meet new family members born just months ago. I'll dance in celebration of a cousins wedding, and listen to the stories of wise grandparents. Hear the laughter and warmth of family that I miss too often way down here in the southern hemisphere.

Of course, there will be pictures and stories and memories to tell later. All in good time.

p.s. pack your balaclavas away, theives. we have 3 cats ready to cuddle maul you to death and friends house-sitting. plans to steal our used lounge suite and telephone bill? thwarted!

holy crap with the crying.

Really, I honestly thought that once my period arrived that I'd stop crying. Like crying when Asshat* colleague announced his wifes' pregnancy. Or when my employer announces my role is being dis-established and I need to create and then apply for a new one.** Or like when I was home last night alone, sitting in the bathtub, trying to read a 'how to get your best career yet' book but couldn't see the words for the sobbing. Or when Lovely*** colleague brought his new baby to the office. The tears, they're not stopping

I'm really annoying myself now. 

I assumed the tears were because of hormones and the turmoil they cause internally. And normally this shit sorts itself out within 12 hours of my period starting. But now? I'm like a 16 yr old teenage girl whose mother has told her she can't wear the yellow mini skirt because it makes her look cheap and slutty. IT'S SO NOT FAIR (LYNN**** TOTALLY GETS TO WEAR WHATEVER SHE WANTS!!!). 

I may need a trip to emergency just to get re-hydrated from all this crying. 

Or perhaps a couple dozen shots of vodka would do. 

I'm gonna make a new shooter of vodka and folic acid. 

Also, I think after 2+ years of taking folic acid regularly, I deserve at least a card from the folic acid companies to thank me for single handedly keeping their industry alive. Other women? Dump them after the first trimester. They're so fickle like that. I'M COMMITTED. (or should be committed. which is it?)

I hope the Child and Youth Services aren't reading this. Do you think they can acuse me of child abuse if I'm drinking vodka while taking folic acid and trying to get pregnant? Child abuse before the child?

I don't know how this blog post should end. But, as usual, it's making me feel better. How about you? 

Tell me, when was the last time you cried and why?

* not his real name

** seriously, this is happening. so, you know, if you were thinking of paying me to blog, I'm not gonna stop you. 

***not his name either

****she did. i'm not harbouring any grudges about it though