When I was younger I wanted to…have a family.
I had that naive assumption that my path would somewhat emulate that of my parents (after all, why wouldn’t it? They’re my parents – they know what’s going on – surely this is how life’s supposed to work out?)
I suppose it wouldn’t have helped to know the reality I faced, to have gone back in time and told that little girl that she might as well stop playing ‘Mummies and Daddies’ and shoving the baby up her jumper. That might have made things worse, and I suppose there’s a reason we’re never allowed to know in advance how things are going to work out.
I *will* have a family, though.
I *will* beat the absolute bottom-fell-out-of-my-world horror that having your dearest and longest-held hopes dashed brings.
I *will* make it through this.
I just wish that when I was younger, I would’ve decided I wanted to be a ‘career person’. That would make the Now a lot less gut-wrenching.
We went to Husby’s endocrine appointment (it seems like the whole of life, much like these quick takes, is all about us not being able to have kids) and the doctor confirmed that, although the medication she can offer can go some way to helping, we’re looking at medically assisted conception.
I need to do some more research and finding out and praying (and chatting to spiritual types) as I’m not entirely sure where I stand on this. Husby and I are both against IVF, though the procedure we’d require (ICSI) is a more medically intensive procedure with the same results. I think what we’re really against is the chance that life might be created then wasted because of us, so hopefully we’ll get more than one shot at it, and use two fertilised eggs to implant each time (we’re pleading with the doctors on this, as at the moment we’ll only get one shot).
The thing is, in order to get some decent swimmers to add into the mix, if the meds prove less than helpful (or possibly anyway), Husby’s going to have to have them aspirated out of him. I dread to think what this involves, but I’m fairly certain it’ll be large needles and parts of his anatomy which were only ever meant to be treated with care and love.
This is what happens when your ‘Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda’ all comes crashing down around your ears.
At the moment he’s pretty sketchy on whether he even wants to go through with it, and is beginning to query whether it (having children) is worth the hassle of the invasive medical procedures. I’m trying very hard to be supportive of him, but if that line of thought goes too far, I can see us falling out, which is a shame.
|I *need* this shirt|
I’ve been doing some more thinking on the Finish the Sentence Friday challenge (see #1) and I reckon that actually, the thing to do is look at this as my opportunity to take up the careers which I couldn’t do as a mother.
I wanted to be a train driver, an HGV driver or an ambulance technician.
The thing is, the trains I want to drive (steam) are few and far between and almost certainly have enough Men queuing up to drive them to prevent a girlie from getting in on the action.
The HGV licence costs over £1000 to get. I also think that I’d actually be terrified of being in charge of something that big.
Ambulance technician is something which I could possibly still pursue. I volunteered for a while with St John Ambulance and loved it, although I was never able to take it all that seriously, so perhaps I’d need to start over with a more mature attitude (no more giggling when giving the kiss of life to plastic people, definitely no more ‘saving’ plastic torsos from choking on a piece of cork by pinning them against the wall and punching them in the stomach when the Heimlich manouevre fails (it worked though – I bet he would rather be alive with a sore tum than on the mort slab (if plastic people can ‘rather’ anything)))
Yeahhhh I’m sure I could drive an ambulance, though it might be a little late now for me to train to be the person doing the actual life-saving…
Five weeks ago (or was it six?) I decided to take the plunge and begin the 5:2 diet. I was the heaviest I’d been since getting married (happens to everyone, as I understand it) and in addition to just wanting to look and feel better, there was the added incentive of ‘Yes, we’ll give you fertility treatment but only if you jump through our BMI hoops first’.
Inspired by a friend, and my Mum (who was already doing it and seeing great results) I chose two days each week whereupon I would stop eating by 8pm the night before, skip breakfast and go for as long as I could without breaking the fast, then eat only fruit and vegetables until having a normal meal in the evening.
This, coupled with extra exercise (and not having sufficient money to use the car wantonly) has resulted in a rather resolve-boosting 7lb loss. I’m hoping that this is sustainable as a lifestyle from now on.
Sometimes I get a tune stuck in my head. The way to get it out is (of course) to listen to it. It used to be to play it on the piano, but since I no longer have one (*sob*) I settle with learning to whistle the melody. Tonight’s random tune (which I practiced, like every good amateur, in the shower) was Daft Punk’s ‘Harder Better Faster Stronger’, though in a random twist of fate, it was the melody of the (one of the many) dubstep remix. And I’m not sure why this ended up in my brain, but it’s damn good.
- Almond croissant for Husby – there’s a particular stall which sells the most sublime, sugar-dust-frosted, squidgy-in-the-middle, flaky, buttery, toasted-almond-bedecked creations. They are his cocaine.
- Olives for my Goddaughter. She’s a lovely kid with
weirdsophisticated tastes and green olives are one of the things she enjoys most. If she was allowed, she could polish off the whole pot, likely in one sitting.
- Marinaded garlic cloves – from the same stall as the olives, these little babies have been marinaded in tomato oil and magic until all the strength and pungency is gone and you’re left with a delicious, flavoursome, almost-fruity morsel. These are for my Sis, though undoubtedly Niece will have a few.
- A science-fiction-related prize for the youth group tomorrow evening. They’re having a Sci-Fi theme with a prize for the best fancy dress. Guess what though – we forgot about the ‘prize’ bit until quite recently, so thank goodness it’s meant to be a shopping day!
- Something for myself. Not sure what yet, but I’m sure I’ll have my eye caught by some lovely item. Or bread – it could be bread; there‘s a particularly good walnut and raisin available…