The ups and downs of life truly caught me in their variably-heighted midst today. I’ve slogged up the peaks, basked in the sunshine and fallen down the mountainside into the depths and shadows.
For the past fortnight I’ve been trying very hard not to get excited because my ‘time of the month’ was late. I took a test last weekend and it showed negative, so I planned to wait a week and see what if. I tried very hard to presume that it would be negative and that after all the stress recently, this is just another manifestation of my cycle being affected by the huge amount of utter manic happening in my life.
Well today I planned to take a second test, just to check and see.
*tried so hard not to hope, whilst hoping all the time*
And yes, it’s a result of the utter manic in my life at the moment. I didn’t even get as far as the test. Didn’t need to.
Which is difficult on two levels. Or three levels, if I think about it properly. Or maybe even four.
Level 1 – once you’ve had a miscarriage, I’m not sure how long you can expect to wait before that monthly occurrence doesn’t take you back to that awful time you were losing your child. I know I’m not there yet.
Level 2 – It’s particularly disappointing when there was even a smidgen of a possibility (like, two weeks worth) that you might have been pregnant and then definitely aren’t
Level 3 – which is harder to face when (in all probability) it will be within the year that the funding will stop and the nice fertility-preserving meds will be swapped out for the cheaper-and-equally-effective-for-what-needs-to-be-fixed-but-fertility-anihilating ones.
Level 4 – it’s just plain uncomfortable/painful.
So that was first thing after waking up. Oh joy!
So, like all rational people do when they’re hurting, I went back to bed and fell into a deep and peaceful slum*DOORBELL*….berbuggerarsetits!
Mum. With newly cut keys for our newly gotten flat. And very nice to see her it was, too, but my brain was all foggy with the incredible cotton-wool feeling you get when wrenched from sleep too soon. We organised keys and I let her down gently about no babies yet.
I also showed her the flowers and (yet unopened) card that my very sweet best-friend-in-all-the-world got me for Mothers day (which, here in England, is tomorrow) because, as she said “you ARE a mother now.” And she’s right, I just sadly don’t have a child on Earth to show for it.
So, yeah, Mother’s day and no baby here. Just my sweet neverborn.
Then the final nail in the emotional coffin was that a good friend of mine gave birth last weekend and we’d bought a ‘Happy New Baby’ card for her and her husband. Husby wrote the mother’s day card to post to his mum; I wrote the Happy New Baby card. Whilst feeling terrible about me not having a baby and her having one and feeling terrible about not being able to feel happy about her having a baby and feeling like I definitely didn’t NOT want to write and send the card, but nor did I want to write and send it.
made the mistake of telling entered into a rather in-depth communication with Husby about this after his initial response to my upset was “Well that’s not healthy!”
After a great deal of time (the next two hours) I managed to convey sufficiently why I was upset, that I understood that it wasn’t ‘healthy’, but that actually my response (i.e. expressing and acknowledging my upsetness) was healthier than bottling it up or ignoring it, and that I needed him to be sympathetic and that WOMEN’S BRAINS WORK DIFFERENTLY DAGNABBIT! and the upshot is, we’re still married and still on pleasant terms.
In fact, feel free to borrow my analogy, because that (I think) was the only thing which he was able to really ‘get’ about what I was saying.
Imagine a man’s brain is a series of tiny jars. Each feeling/circumstance/thought can be poured, like different coloured dyes, into different jars. Sometimes some of them might be quite similar, but they’re all separate. A woman’s brain is more like a big jar. Each feeling/circumstance/thought gets poured into the jar, where they all mix together, interact and impact upon one another.
I also found it worthwhile explaining that this wasn’t just a ‘me’ thing; it was most women, because our brains are wired differently, as provable by neurology, psychology and a whole bunch of other -lolgies and as such it’s not something I can just switch off, choose not to do, or try another way. It is what it is what it is.
The day improved when the ever-lovely Meanderer came to pay another visit and help us move the contents of our garden shed into our new garden shed. It took three of us five car trips but it is finished! And we were able to guilt-free-stuff-ourselves on homemade pizza and several types of puddings. And we had a really good time together and laughed LOADS.
And this evening, as if to put the musical cherry back on the peak of the mountain (yes I’m mixing metaphors and no, I don’t care) I got a response from a Youtuber after I asked him/her about a song used in one of his/her videos. I heard this track in a compilation vid over a year ago and loved it and couldn’t find out what it was, as it wasn’t credited. I’ve been trying FOR A YEAR to discover the piece, and here it finally is. The knowledge. The name. The wonder.
Kevin MacLeod’s Spazzmatica Polka
(there’s also a 1 hour long version available; don’t worry – this one isn’t it, but oh the sheer joy!)