Upon Awakening...

As time goes by...

2011-09-25T12:09:00.002+02:00

I haven't blogged in years. Not days or weeks or months, years. I'm at a wonderful place in my life: happy, content, full of joy. If you happen to land here from somewhere else, don't expect new blog posts every few days, or weeks or even months. I've written my heart out about living without children. You see, the hurt is not there anymore.

I'm OK. Really, really OK.

And if you decide to read the previous posts in any case, please handle it with care. Those posts contain big parts of my soul. If we're strangers, I'm glad that our paths crossed, and I hope you found what you were looking for. If we know each other, please tread even more carefully than if I were just another blogger in cyberspace.

If you're on a journey of self-discovery due to infertility: hang in there. Whether you're destined for children or not, life does get better! But be warned as well: if you don't take an active part in seeking the joy in every single thing that happens to you, life will just be one more dreary day after another.

Be joyful! :D

WOW!

2010-10-27T10:28:00.004+02:00

I haven't checked into my gmail account for quite some time, and this morning I found this email waiting for me:

Dear Karen,

Congratulations! Sarah here, and your blog, Upon Awakening, was determined to be one of the best blogs to exude overall brilliance. And so, it has
received our 2010 Top 40 Infertility Blogs award presented by Medical
Billing and Coding!

Thanks Sarah & Medical Billing and Coding - I appreciate the fact that you think my blog is special enough to receive an award from you. If it can touch just one heart out there and make her/him feel better, even just for a few moments, it was worth writing down every emotion and heartache.

Medical Billing

It has been a real long time since I last blogged, mainly because I don't feel the need to write about my feelings and experiences around Infertility any more. Saying that, it doesn't mean that I'm OK with Infertility changing my dreams, and that I'm past everything that happened. You just wake up one morning and the words that has been jumbling around in your mind are quiet...

Aha!

2009-08-25T14:43:00.004+02:00

I never should've gone to kindergarten... it jinxed everything!

Back to square one?

2009-08-18T19:20:00.002+02:00

I honestly thought I was OK with being infertile, and everything that it entails. So OK that I stopped blogging. Carrying on writing about it felt like scratching the scab off a healing wound every time.

I'm not OK.

The past year a lot of things happened in my life that made me stop and think. How on earth I'm I going to deal with this vacuum in my life? I really, REALLY thought I had it pinned. It helped to write about it in the past, so I'll start again.

I missed blogging. I missed the contact and feedback from people in the same situation. No promises about lots of blogging or interesting writing - I'm just going to take each day as it comes. If you happen to discover I've started blogging again: "Hello my friend, good to see you again! I hope life has been treating you well since we last talked..."

The Miracle we prayed for!

2008-04-20T18:10:00.005+02:00

The past few days have been hectic with our 2nd school term starting and the project I'm working on in the final days before it has to be handed in, but I just want to take the time and tell you the most wonderful news.

My mom had her latest scans on Thursday afternoon, and there is not a sign of cancer anywhere in her body! Isn't that totally out of this world? God is absolutely awesome.

I don't think it has hit me yet, we've been much calmer about the news than I ever expected. It doesn't lessen the feeling of relief though, I just think it's going to take some time for the truth to settle in and shake us up with joy!

Her previous scans, early in February, showed the tumors were much smaller than when they were first noticed, but there were some troubling marks on the bones of her skull. The doctor did extra tests and told her that he suspects it arthritis. That might be what is keeping us back from going on all out of our skins because of the news. I know it sounds skeptical, but I don't trust it all that much. She also has one more chemo on Tuesday, and then regular check-ups during the next few months. Will keep you updated!

Thanks SO much for all your comments on my previous post, I haven't had time to sit still at the pc to visit all your blogs, but this week it should go easier to have some "me" time. :)

UPDATE - 27/10/2010:

So many things has happened since I wrote this post. The short version is that both my mom and dad have passed away since then. My dad died 5 months after his lung cancer was diagnosed - on Easter Sunday morning, 12 April 2009. My mom passed away during the night of Easter Sunday the following year, 51 weeks after my dad. I miss them something terribly, but their legacy lives on.

100th Post & Blogoversary

2008-04-08T21:31:00.003+02:00

I didn't plan it this way, it just happened. Well not really "just happened", but I've been thinking about my 100th post, feeling bad about the negative one (#99) I left up for so long. My apologies for that. When I realized my blogoversary was close, I didn't post, and waited till they coincided.

Life hasn't been all that bad since I last posted. Good and then not so good things happened since, but all in all they turned out good. Will tell you more about them later this week.

I'm not going to reminisce about the past year, or refer back to topics discussed in the previous 99 posts. This I do know: I'm happy about the changes in my life that were a result of my starting to write about my Infertility. The people I met through this blog has enriched my life in a way I never expected, and I'm so grateful for that.

Thanks for being there during this first year of my blog. Hopefully it will catch it's second breath and carry on for some time to come! :)

BEWARE: Ranting & Raving ahead!

2008-01-06T15:02:00.000+02:00

In Afrikaans we have a saying: "Dit gaan reën!" (It's going to rain!) and it usually means something that hasn't happened in a very long time has finally happened again.

Well, you can expect a hurricane of sorts: I caught up on about 2 months of comments on my blog by visiting yours! My sincerest apologies for neglecting you so long. No excuses, but my sincerest gratitude for not writing me off totally :)

One of PJ's recent posts made me decide on this post of mine, #99 on my blog. It's a discussion on the book The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. The last paragraph is about how Fertiles sometime "assume that couples without children chose that path freely and deserve any downsides that might come with it." She said the following that struck a very sensitive cord in me:

"I admit that I resent fertiles who make wrong-headed assumptions about my life. (Yes, I drive a nice car now and shop at my leisure but that’s because I don’t have any college funds that need tending.)" Go read the rest of her post, it's really great!

Further on in that paragraph she talks about what she is able to afford to do since they decided to live child free. It gave me the courage to write this post.

Why do I need courage? Because this post is going to step on some toes. Those of my sisters and mom. And believe me, I don't want to hurt anyone, but this has to get out of my system ASAP.

Lately, both of my sisters and my mom have dropped statements like the following:

"I wish I could have just one night to myself. Must be heaven!"
"A friend of mine got divorced recently and she's having a fabulous time! Going to clubs, doing exactly what she wants, when she wants. *sigh*
"The day you decided to become a mom was the day you decided to put yourself in 2nd place. Always. That day you decided to think of yourself lastly. Responsibility is the name of the game!"

At first I ignored it and tried to understand their side of the story, why exactly they felt that way. The comments didn't stop. They continued and increased. Yes I'm sensitive about what they imply. But I really, REALLY tried not to take it personally.

I failed miserably. Any continued attack on the strongest of reserves gets through the barrier of defense eventually. Mine broke down the last day of our family holiday. I held out for 6½ of the 7 days of constant (not all of them intended) bombardment.

This was extremely difficult:

Watching everyone with their partners, even though it wasn't the most idyllic of times for them, while I'm doing the being single thing.
Seeing my dad and mom enjoying their grandchildren so much.
Watching these kids I love falling asleep on their parent's lap.
Listening to conversations reminiscing about their cute sayings & doings, seeing the utter joy on my parents faces.
Keeping on smiling and acting as if nothing bothered/hurt me at all.

What makes the whole thing even more difficult to comprehend is the fact that these people are my family. They are very important parts of my support system. They were there for me during the worst of times. I've been there for them during their dark days.

And now it looks as if they think despite everything in my story, I got the best deal imaginable. On top of that: even the parts of this deal of mine that hurt me terribly in the past is now forgotten/healed/not-so-bad-anymore.

Maybe not all of you understand why I'm upset. After all, I'm not sharing everything that happened during the past few months on my blog. I really tried (and I'm still trying, daily!) to rather see the positive side of every sad situation. I really tried to be happy for them, tried to be part of conversations that centered around the kids. The last thing I want to be is the bitter, sour faced, spinster aunt. (None of the boys can remember my ex-husband - they haven't seen him since July '99 when the eldest of them was only 2 years old)

Maybe the following will help you understand me better, or why I even posted this. Maybe not. I still need to say the following to my family and friends in real life:

The fact that I don't talk about not having children and how it hurts me doesn't mean I'm over being Infertile.
The fact that you don't get to meet my boyfriend doesn't mean he is a figment of my imagination / that there is something seriously wrong with him / that I'm ashamed of him or you.
Being single is NOT fun. I've paid an extremely high price for the evenings I have to myself. After the 4 th month of having them when you don't want them their novelty tends to wear off. You either have to start telling yourself you like onely (not always lonely!) nights very much or go insane.
The fact that I don't have children of my own does NOT mean I don't have the faintest idea about discipline and child rearing. I just need about 1 year's study to have my degree in educational psychology, that should count for something doesn't it? Not to mention the 12 years experience being a teacher.
Not having children does NOT make me irresponsible or free of any responsibility or worse: not knowing what being responsible is all about.
Not having children or a husband does NOT mean I'm having the time of my life and that I'm able to do what I want when I want.
I DO have life. The fact that you don't know everything there is about me does not mean it doesn't exist.
The freedom and fun you think I'm having, comes at a very high price, one you won't ever be able to pay. No, you will NOT choose a child free life now that you have/know your children.
Don't say it must be fun without the responsibilities of children EVER again. Not in my presence. Please.
That's it for now, but I reserve the right to open this list up again in future.

To the innocent ones, my blog friends, thanks for reading so far through a ranting and raving post.

PJ's words are the perfect ending to this post:

"What I hope is that some day there’s greater awareness that infertility is not self-inflicted and that its effects last a lifetime. Motherhood and infertility share one very big thing in common: sacrifices. "

Everything counts

2008-01-03T17:13:00.000+02:00

A minute or so ago I was sitting in front of my pc, listening to the soundtrack of the movie "August Rush", looking out the window at the rain dripping from the leaves and trying to stop crying. For the umpteenth time today.

I've been wanting to come and blog, but every time I started the post in my head, it had the "crying" thing in there. So I found a great excuse not to blog with every tear next tear that fell. You guys know I cry a lot. And I know most of you are OK with it. But I don't want to talk about crying in all my posts!

The only problem with my crying is that I very often start out but seldom finish it. I start crying, but I leave the hurt inside. To really do crying the right way you have to let the hurt that caused the crying flow out with the tears. Otherwise you've just wasted a lot of time and energy and you'll wear out your sympathy vouchers way too soon.

Today I did it a bit differently. Normally when I go to the movies, I really don't cry. Not even when we went to see "The Passion of the Christ" - where they had boxes of Kleenex outside the door - did I shed one single tear.

It wasn't even 20 minutes into the movie when the first tear broke over the dam wall. I just gave up trying to hold it back. From there on it just got worse. No Kleenex in sight: I had to get real creative so as not to disturb the people around me.

What movie I saw? August Rush. Yup. Got the soundtrack right away. If you saw it and thought: "Huh? It wasn't THAT good!", don't worry. In the reviews they say you either LOVE it or think it's very mediocre. For those of you that haven't seen it yet, here is the trailer:

This movie touched something in my heart and my being that loosened a river of tears - one I've been struggling to get rid of for some time now. Don't ask me what it was, I'm still working on that.

It was beautiful, a fairy tale of getting lost and being found. Of how music connects us all. Of how nothing is impossible. You just have to listen. And you have to believe.

To get back to the topic of this post. While I was thinking of NOT posting today, the following quote landed in my inbox.

The truth is ... everything counts. Everything. Everything we do and everything we say. Everything helps or hurts; everything adds to or takes away from someone else.
Countee Cullen

You all know how I feel about quotes, and how they stumble onto your path at just the right moment. This one wasn't an exception.

Everything you do or say counts, everything makes a difference. This year I want to make a positive difference whenever I say or do something. I want people I come into contact with feel warm when they leave. It won't be easy, because I'm not always a bunch of sunshine. But the best I can do is try!

Go watch that movie if you haven't seen it yet. Take along some Kleenex and start believing again.

Dearest Secret Santa...

2008-01-02T16:09:00.000+02:00

On a day when I needed it most, your package was waiting in my mailbox.

Thanks SO much for the trouble you went through making sure it was something I'd like. Thanks too for wrapping every item in a separate package - I felt like a kid again! Thanks for my SUPER presents dearest Santa - the love that went into sending them was felt half a world away and it meant more than half a world to me.

And uhm I have to confess: I donned my Sherlock Holmes hat and discovered who you are! As I said in my e-card to you - your gift warmed my heart in a way words find difficult to describe. A million thanks and more!

Once upon a time (Take 2)

2007-12-14T17:31:00.000+02:00

I think I found the starting block. The one where I need to start being kind to myself so I could get good at it, go into the doing-it-subconsciously-mode so I can get down to concentrating on other people and not myself.

Funny enough (or not surprising at all?) it's connected with the scrapbooking thing. My heartfelt thanks to all of you who commented on that post of mine. Most of the things you said I knew already, but I wanted to throw myself a small pity party about not ever getting the chance to scrap pages of my baby (not to mention the plural!). Now that THAT's out of the way, let's get to the rest of it.

My photo box (freshly organized thanks to various visits to my local scrapbooking shop - just pretend you didn't see that if you're reading this Mr. Bank Manager!) Going through the various categories during the past week or so, I kept avoiding my own baby pictures for ~~some insane~~ very obvious reasons. My sister Wilma came around for coffee the other day, and since we're partners in crime with this latest hobby, she enquired about all the pages I scrapped the past week since I've been on holiday.

When I uhmed and ah'ed she said nothing, just had that look on her face that said: "Tell me about what's bothering you really." And so I did. Ms. Crybaby came out instantly. (Maybe if I stopped drinking so much water - do you think that would help keep the tears at bay?) The words and excuses didn't make much sense at first, but she let me cry and babble for a few minutes.

What she said then made so much sense, why I didn't think of it first is a mystery. She said: " Sis, no matter what happened in your past, you have a story to tell. What's more important is not that you won't be telling it to your children, but it's important that you TELL your story. It's yours. Just tell it."

So that's what I did. I picked one of my baby pictures and scrapped it. It was a bit small for a 12 x 12 page, so I went for the 8 x 8 size. Here is the result:

For a bigger image, click *here*. I struggled a bit with the correct lighting - but you get the idea. The journaling is as follows: "Krulletjies, Kuiltjies & Kleintyd se Kiekies." So why did I write it in Afrikaans when I knew most of you wouldn't understand at all? Because all the k's are part of a letter play on my name. Translated it means: "Krulletjies (curls), Kuiltjies (dimples) & Kleintyd (childhood times) se Kiekies (photos)."

Yes it was therapeutic, and yes I cried a few times. The important part is that I started. I'm not skipping over my own pictures anymore. Looking at them is still painful, but by looking at who I was, how I changed from a little baby into who I am today, makes me realize I'm someone special. And the world didn't fall in on my head just because I actually typed it.

The lesson I learned this week, thanks to Wilma's advice, is that I need to tell my story even though some of the chapters I wanted to have in my book won't be there. It will make it different, and it will be beautiful, because it is MINE.

Once upon a time there was a little girl who had no idea whatsoever about all the real life monsters out there. She also had no idea how beautiful life could be, but she was about to find out exactly how absolutely breathtaking it is!

Reach in to Reach out

2007-12-12T20:30:00.000+02:00

"In our deepest moments of struggle, frustration, fear, and confusion, we are being called upon to reach in and touch our hearts. Then, we will know what to do, what to say, how to be. What is right is always in our deepest heart of hearts. It is from the deepest part of our hearts that we are capable of reaching out and touching another human being. It is, after all, one heart touching another heart." - Roberta Sage Hamilton

Once again a quote found me when I needed it most.

For the past few months I've really been struggling in frustration, fear and confusion, because I don't know what to do, what to say or how to be.

I thought that if I reached out and helped the people I loved and cared for so that they could cope with their heartaches and sorrows, I'd forget about my own. Maybe I overdid it. The emotionally drained feeling is drowning me. Draining vs. Drowning. If you think about the two words they are quite the opposite of each other. It's the only way I have to explain the desperation I feel when I'm getting anxious when there is absolutely no reason for it.

Reaching in and touching your own heart - just the thought is excruciatingly painful. But if I don't look inside myself and be kind to the person I am deep down in my soul, I can't reach out to other people. I need to do that in order to shift my attention from what's hurting me to what I know makes me happy - being a part of making someone else happy.

By writing this blog I've dealt with a lot of the issues I've buried too deep to work through in the past. I thought I was nearing the end, getting stronger and being able to glide through life without the children I dreamed about, but I still have to learn some lessons it seems.

So... brace yourself my dear heart, you're about to be touched!

My Mystery Man

2007-12-11T10:29:00.001+02:00

Ok, you won. :)

Let's call him Mr. Saint, or just St. for short. Why? It's a wordplay on his name. I took away one letter in his real name that occurs twice and changed the u to an i. Ready? Here we go...

We met in 2002 in a chatroom - talked online and on the phone for about 3 months before we met for coffee the first time. The relationship fizzled out at the end of December of that year, but in November of 2003 he contacted me again. We took up where we left off, and became even better friends than before. Nothing seriously romantic, but the spark was there.

I wrote this piece about him a year or so ago:

"This is the story about my guardian angel. You won’t describe him as a typical one. Not even after seeing John Travolta in “Michael”. His spiky grey hair and wrinkles, even when he isn’t laughing, oddly enough make him look younger than his age - 15 years older than me. Sometimes the age gap bothers me, but that only happens when I allow convention to get in the way of my reality. To top it all he has the most beautiful blue eyes. They look straight into the deepest parts of my soul.

He loves coffee. The first cup I ever made him was in my kitchen. When he hugged me while we waited for the percolator to finish, it was so much more than the hugs I’ve been used to. It felt safe, warm, familiar and oh so tender.

Way back during the first months we knew each other, I never knew when he would come by again. Every time he closed the door behind him, I unconsciously said goodbye in my heart. Not a sad goodbye though. The deep feeling of serenity I felt after each of his visits is almost indescribable. It lasted for days after he was gone…

He gave me wings! At first I didn’t trust him when he told me to jump and just fly. But he was so patient in explaining why I am strong enough not to fear flying. He gently took my hand and showed me who I am. He highlighted all of my strengths, and showed me that my weaknesses are actually challenges waiting to be turned into successes. He told me I am beautiful, time and again, made me look at my body with all it’s flaws and taught me to love it as God loves me. He made me believe that I’m special, that I can soar above the past, into an exquisite future!"

This is a love story yes, even though it's a strange one. Not the usual type of romance where two people fall in love and live it from sunrise to sunrise. It’s different in the sense that there is so much love, feeling and understanding, but on an unusual level of consciousness. It works for us right here and now. He lives in a town 2 hours away from mine, and the space this long distance relationship offers both of us, is what makes it work.

Telling you about this mystery man of mine might leave you with even more questions than you had before. I don't know how long we'll still be part of each others' lives, but right now I'm just focusing on the beautiful journey we're sharing.

Scrapping Volcanoes

2007-12-10T13:40:00.000+02:00

Hands up those of you that are doing scrapbooking. Not just one or two pages here and there, but really being into it.

Chances are that I won't see many hands.

You know why? Because 95% of scrapbooking is about making memory pages of babies, children and families. And those of us with the Infertility badge probably aren't brave enough to scrap pages of our nieces, nephews or any baby/child we know.

I gave into the scrapbooking hobby a few weeks ago because I just had to find something creative to do. Doing school work 24/7 didn't work for me anymore. TV and movies lost its appeal. I didn't even want to do any of the arty farty things I did in the past.

Blogging and visiting your blogs got downright too difficult. The words I read hurt more than it healed: I couldn't even get myself to write about life in general. The words were there, ideas for what to blog about were all over the place but jumbled, flying around and bouncing off the walls of my mind. Every single time I started thinking about blogging, I immediately changed direction, avoiding it on purpose.

Well, here I am. Don't know if I'll be blogging often again since our summer holidays started a week ago, but maybe, just maybe I'll have enough courage to face what must be said and written.

Back to the scrapbooking thing: how sad is it for a woman my age to make her very first scrapbook page about her cat? Very. Extremely. Painfully so. Yup, that's me. It turned out beautifully, but then I got stuck.

This morning I woke up, so eager to do something constructive today. Browsed through pages after pages of scrapbook layout ideas online. You can't avoid them: babies, children, families. No matter how hard I tried to just look at the layout ideas, the pictures just shoved themselves into my face. I suddenly felt extremely sorry for myself, and just started crying.

At least it got me blogging again. But you know what? I realized one thing: even after you thought you made peace with Infertility's impact on your life, the pain you thought were gone/better, comes back to make you crumble into millions of little pieces again.

The pain of Infertility never goes away, we just bury it deeper day after day. And then something in your life triggers some seismic activities in your soul and hurt and pain erupts like a volcano. Sometimes it's only a warning rumble, but then there are times that turns cities like Pompeii into a sad part of history.

Pregnant Women Are Stalking Me!

2007-11-18T17:41:00.000+02:00

Not right now, thank goodness, but when I saw that topic in a scrapbooking email, I was quite surprised. I'm trying really hard to cope with life in general, doing lots of different things to keep my mind from wandering (wondering too?) so I've succumbed to the scrapbook-bug that's been nibbling away at me for the past few years. (Let's not talk about it right now - I spent WAY too much money on my starter kit, but boyohBOY it's fun!)

Anyway, it was kind of "Huh? What's this?" when I saw that topic, but at the bottom of the email from ScrapGirls that I receive daily, (they've got loads of ideas - subscribe if you haven't done so yet!) there was a short article that I identified with immediately.

"Customer Muse: Pregnant Women Are Stalking Me!

I have a confession.

Five long years. Yes, for five years, pregnant women have been stalking me. I am not talking about the ones that are pregnant and don't know about it yet, however, I am sure they are tracking me as well. But, I am referring to the ones that are very pregnant and about to POP; the pregnant women who can hardly walk because their load is so heavy. How do they know which aisle I am in at the grocery store? How do they know which pew I will choose at church? Do they have a built in radar system that magnetizes them to me - the infertile one? That’s how you feel when you want to have children, but it’s just not happening.

Pregnant women are everywhere. They know which parking space I am going to choose and what elevator I am going to be on. They wait on me at restaurants, check me out at the grocery store, take my money at the bank, and even ask me for directions. If you are experiencing infertility, you may be being stalked by pregnant women as well! How about the pregnant women that already have four kids in the shopping cart? Oh yes, they are after me, too!

If you have ever felt like this, I have a secret plan of revenge and you can join me on my mission. I refuse to let my joy be stolen by these attackers – stalkers - if you will. Instead, I pray a prayer of blessing on them. THERE take that! I see them coming near, every color and shape, but instead of resenting them and being painfully jealous of them as I used to be, I have decided that I will PRAY for them when they come after me.

While these women are not aware that they are my "enemies," I really believe that The Enemy encourages them in my direction to see if I will snap under the stress of our fertility struggles. My battle here is not really at all with the pregnant princesses who come my way in all of their glowing splendor, but with Satan himself and the thoughts that enter my mind.

If you have ever felt this way, take my advice and make your thoughts captive to Christ and 2 Corinthians 5:10b. In the renewing of your mind, FORCE yourself to speak a blessing prayer over those who seem to torment you. You don't have to do it out loud, just in your head. Then, you can stand tall and walk past the challenge, knowing that the King of Kings used YOU to bless someone you don't even know.

Barbarita Lee"

This is not going to be easy for me. I try to avoid the subject of pregnancy, babies AND Infertility totally - one of the reasons why I'm blogging way less than I do normally. But I'll try it because doing something nice for someone else will always make you feel better.

A little update on my mom: she is doing so much better! Visited them on Thursday afternoon when they returned from their seaside vacation, and I haven't seen her looking this good since early January. Thanks for all your prayers and support! :)

The Witch and I

2007-11-11T12:36:00.000+02:00

Last night I started reading Paulo Coelho's "The Witch of Portobello". I love his books: the words he uses to weave his stories always get stuck in my soul somewhere, making me think and feel deeper than I expected to.

It's not much different with the witch. On page 5 the words zoomed into my heart and I had to read it over and over.

Somehow Mr. Coelho put the tip of his finger on the most sensitive part of my being while he was describing an episode from Athena's life through the eyes of an admirer.

Here is what he wrote:

"But then, how many of us will be saved the pain of seeing the most important things in our lives disappearing from one moment to the next? I don't just mean people, but our ideas and dreams too: we might survive a day, a week, a few years but we're all condemned to lose. Our body remains alive, yet, sooner or later, our soul will receive the mortal blow. The perfect crime - for we don't know who murdered our joy."

The next paragraph explains so perfectly how I see myself during the times we tried to conceive, when I was dreaming of my own child, buying baby clothes, living the dream during those few weeks I was pregnant:

"I'm finally coming to accept that I was only a temporary inhabitant, there as a favor, like someone who finds himself in a beautiful mansion, eating exquisite food, aware that this is only a party, that the mansion belongs to someone else, and that the time will come when the lights will go out, the owners will go to bed, the servants will return to their quarters, the door will close, and he'll be out in the street again, waiting for a taxi or a bus to restore him to the mediocrity of his every day life."

And then the harshest of realities when I woke up:

"...This is the universe I'll have to live with for the rest of my days... I'll wake up sweating and go into the kitchen for a glass of water. I'll understand that in order to combat ghosts you must use weapons that form no part of reality. Then... I'll place and open pair of scissors on my bedside table to snip off the end of the dream. The next day, I'll look at the scissors with a touch of regret, but I must adapt to living in the world again or risk going mad."

Just when you think you're getting a grip on living a strong and painless life having accepted the cruel, cold fact of Infertility, it creeps in from somewhere and you're looking - silently and stunned again - at the empty spaces where your dreams should've been...

Once upon a time

2007-11-02T19:21:00.000+02:00

Once upon a time there was a very cute, very lovable, and very spoiled kitty cat.

She loved her human so much that she allowed her to sleep in the big white bed every night. She didn't care so much that the human thought the bed belonged to her and that cats only had second choice when it came to choosing which side to sleep on. She tolerated that most nights.

Sometimes however, she claimed her rightful place and edged her human carefully onto the other side of the bed during the night. She did it so stealthily that the human only realized this when she woke up the next morning.

One day, a friend of the cat came to visit. They spent hours chatting and playing, and when the visitor got too tired, the cat invited him onto the big white bed. He promised to stay on his side, safely tucked away under the pillow, so that if the human woke up before him in the morning, he could get away quickly without being discovered. The cat slept at the foot end of the bed that night, purring herself to sleep, life couldn't get better than that! Her human and her friend sleeping peacefully next to each other.

The phrase "rude awakening" got a fresh meaning in the early hours of the next day when a shrill, short scream bounced off the walls of the bedroom. No sooner did the cat peep out from her safety spot under the chair in the corner of the bedroom, than she saw her human standing next to the bed with her cellphone in hand.

"Kitty cat, if I don't take a picture of this right now, nobody is ever going to believe me!"

A bright light flashed and the cat saw her friend sitting on top of the pillow. He winked at her without moving any other muscle in his body, and she got the message: "Play innocent, pretend you don't know anything!"

The cat blinked back and didn't move a whisker.

Later that day she found her friend on the southern side of the 3rd group of bricks next to the pool. She knew her human took her friend outside and dropped him off safely into the bushes, but the whole incident was terrifying. It could so easily have worked out differently! But all's well that ends well.

Now she just have to think of a way how to get rid of that picture on her human's cellphone. Damning evidence indeed!

Where are my feet?

2007-11-01T17:09:00.000+02:00

I've said it so many times, but it stays a fact: you girls rock! Thanks for your comments and support, you're really awesome. :)

And to answer my own question: my feet are still firmly on mother earth, despite my seemingly euphoric post on Tuesday. The changed situation didn't bring sudden healing or an overnight cure; the road ahead is still going to be very rough. As Geohde rightly said in her comment: metastasized ovarian cancer is NOT good.

My mom's been suffering from it's side effects since last year this time, the origin of the disease having been misdiagnosed more than once, and because of that it has spread beyond her ovaries. Make no mistake: this is stage IV ovarian cancer, it's very serious.

Then why do I think of it as a miracle?

Because it could so easily have been otherwise. The decision to go to a different radiology unit, and thus having to change oncologists, (long & rather unpleasant story) was made in a split second. If my parents didn't decide to go to this new hospital, and making the leap of seeing a new oncologist, she would've been treated for something minor, and the cancer cells would've had a field time growing bigger and stronger. (I am sooooo sure God had something to do with that machine breaking down when it did!)

Now, despite the fact that she needs chemotherapy once a month for the next 6 months, we all feel that the doctors finally got to the root of the problem, and that it is being addressed properly for the first time since all the bad stuff started.

The good news is that there is no cancer in her lung any more. The patches of cancer found in her stomach lining, on her backbone (not 100% sure about the exact location but it's in the bone in the surrounding areas to her ovaries) and in one of the lymph nodes in her chest is really small. Doc S referred to them as "a few granules". Those of you with a medical background, please help me out if I got this wrong, it IS good news isn't it? Even though it's not in her ovaries but surrounding tissue?

Something that is very strange to me is the fact that they couldn't find any sign or spot of cancer on/in her ovaries by way of the scans. The radiologist said something about them being too shriveled up and small for him to make out anything properly. That does make sense to me, but I'm still wondering about it. If any of you know something about this, please let me know?

Despite the reality of a less than great prognosis, I see these latest developments as a new lease on life for my mom, a kind of second chance. Yes, the statistics I see of life expectancy for ovarian cancer patients is nauseating, but you know what? I choose to believe that my mom will be with us for more than just a few more months, and I'm praying really hard that whatever God has planned for her and our family, we would handle with the grace that only He can provide.

Miracles DO happen!

2007-10-30T18:35:00.000+02:00

When last where you in the first row watching a miracle happen? Let me help you out: right about now! If you've been following my posts the past few months, seeing an Infertility blog changing into one about breast cancer, you'd know exactly what I'm talking about.

We received my mom's test results from 2 weeks ago this afternoon. Her appointment was at 2 pm, and we all would've met afterwards at Linda's house where her youngest, De Wet, had his 6th birthday party today. I had to be back at school by 5 pm for the Annual General Meeting (yuck!) and by the time I had to be on my way, there still wasn't any sign of my parents. Their cell phones where switched off, and my frustration was mounting.

About 5:30pm, I sms'ed my sisters for the umpteenth time for news about my mom, and she phoned me herself almost immediately. I got up and walked out of the meeting (was sitting right at the back so I hopefully didn't disturb too many people) and got the best news ever.

The latest test showed that the cancer that was removed from her lung in February originated from ovarian cancer and did NOT metastasize from her breast cancer of 10 years ago. The newest cancer that spread to her stomach lining and backbone is also from the ovarian cancer.

So how on earth can I possibly say it's the best news ever? Metastasized breast cancer is not curable, and you won't go into remission like the first time around. Chemotherapy, radiation etc. will only lengthen the patient's life, and later on palliative care would enhance her quality of life. The ovarian cancer is a new cancer which means it can be cured, she CAN go into remission again: my mom isn't dying, she is going to get better!!

When my mom told me the wonderful news, I burst into tears. The dam wall broke at last. I have a terrible headache since the tears dried up, and there are still a whole lot of them needing to come out, but the worst is over.

I'm still trying to get my mind around everything, and I struggle really hard to not think of the fact that things could still get worse even though it's a different and new cancer. I want to believe that she'll get better, not sicker, even though it's stage IV already.

I choose to be positive and hopeful, and to rejoice in this miracle from God - He is truly awesome!

Decisions, decisions!

2007-10-29T16:56:00.000+02:00

Decisions galore, but I've made up my mind. ("Good grief, at last!" she heard them sigh relieved.)

Last Tuesday the bunch of information regarding prophylactic treatments threatened to drown me. Before "maybe" became definitely, I played with all kinds of scenarios, but when I had to choose for real, things changed a lot.

I seriously considered each and every one of the treatments below. Not just how it would feel, the financial implications etc, but there was a time during the past week where I had my mind set on every single one of them.

These are my prophylactic options considering the BRCA2 mutation:

Bilateral mastectomy, oophorectomy and hysterectomy. No need to tell you about the traumatic implications on my emotions as well as my bank balance. If I do all of these surgeries at once, it will only reduce my chances of getting breast or ovarian cancer by 90%. Yup, even if you go through all of this, you can still get the same cancer in the regions around the amputated/removed organs.
Just the bilateral mastectomy. Uhm, no thanks. Period. Read more about reconstructive breast surgery HERE, if you dare!
Oophorectomy and hysterectomy. Doc Greta (the oncologist/gynecologist at the familial breast cancer clinic) said it would be better not just doing one or the other, like 2 for the price of one. This option also scares the living daylights out of me, because it puts you into menopause overnight. BAM. No thanks, I'll go there as slow as I can!
Tamoxifen. One of the more serious side effects of this medication is an increased risk for endometrial cancer, but since I use the Mirena, it seems the specific risk doesn't play that big a role after all. Another side effect is blood clots and hot flushes. Read more about the rest of the gory details regarding the side effects here if you're interested.
Doing nothing at all, besides going for a MRI scan every 6 months in stead of once a year or less. Doc Greta prefers this kind of scan above the normal mammogram since it can spot cancer much earlier and deeper. (Seeing that it's much less painful for big-breasted woman, this is a big plus for me!) The downside is that it costs about $1000 per scan, and THAT is where the ouch comes in!

I decided on the Tamoxifen route. Normally you take this drug for 5 years, and thereafter you switch to something like Arimidex. (The wealth of information you can look up on Wikipedia is totally awesome!) Fast forward to the menopausal symptoms since I'm not there by a long shot, but I think I'll be able to handle that better than arriving at the post-menopause station overnight.

The big cry still didn't happen, but I feel it coming closer every day. All in all I'm coping and doing well when life goes smoothly. The moment I hit the slightest of speed bumps, my tear ducts open full force for a few seconds, only to close down again before the flood can get it's foot in the door. This can be quite embarrassing you know! The man behind me at the pay station in the mall today must've thought I'm totally crazy when I started crying when the stupid machine didn't want to take my money. At least I can still see the humor in it - may it stay that way!

Thanks SO MUCH for your incredible feedback on my previous post. This is the one place where I can say what I want, cry when I want and still know you won't think I went off my rocker. If my surname was Gates, I'd flew you all over for an incredible spa weekend at a 5 star Safari lodge! And those of you who asked for more information about you-know-who, just sit tight till you forget about him again. *grin* Besides, I don't have a nice nickname for him, and that won't work. :)

Reality check

2007-10-25T19:35:00.000+02:00

Please tell me part of being strong is to know when to acknowledge that you're not always as tough as you thought you were!

Because I really need to do something to get rid of the rising panic inside me.

Have you ever thought of the predicament cancer patients are in? No not the illness, but their coping skills. You SO often hear how strong they are, how absolutely awesome they cope with being so sick - shining examples of survivors, heroes, people to be admired for their sheer strength of fighting the disease. Have you ever thought that these cancer patients aren't really all that strong and positive? That all the sick people before them set such high standards of coping well (even if they were just really good actors) that it is kind of expected of them to be strong and fight with everything they have? That if they just express what they feel that healthy people might think they are losers? Not that they wouldn't want to fight to survive, but do you get my drift?

I'm not even sick, I just have a silly, not-so-perfect gene that might make me sick some day, and my emotions are rising in my throat to the point where I'm nauseous and fighting back the panic. The truth is starting to sink in, and the harder I try to concentrate on the positive things, the harder the pounding in my head.

It really might be my imagination, and no it's not you guys reading here, but the people in my life outside the blogosphere, that seems to expect me to take this in my stride. More especially my close family and the man in my life. Ok, I haven't mentioned him yet on this blog, guilty as charged. We're not planning on getting married in the near future, so children aren't an option at all, and uhm, ok, well, now you know about his existence!

What I'm trying to say is that maybe we're trying to motivate each other, positive thinking and all that jazz, while we're hiding our fears. Maybe not. Maybe everyone else, my sisters included, really are coping. Linda said it's been a reality for her for a few years now, having dealt with cancer 5 years ago. She initiated the genetic testing, so I guess she had more time to think this through. Wilma said she is OK, we haven't spoken much since Tuesday, but she surprised me with her insight and summary of what she felt like, only hours after the results.

My mom has to focus on her health, even though she cried when she heard we all had the mutation. She acknowledged that she felt guilty in a way for passing it on to us, but we quickly assured her that even if we had to choose between having her for a mom WITH the mutation, or another mom without it, we would take her a million times over with it, again and again.

Today I'm finding it really, really hard not to crack up emotionally. This is NOT the end of the world, and it's NOT a death sentence, but I'm SO scared. My mom's suffering and pain the past 9 months has been a serious wake up call. Cancer is BAD. VERY bad. I never EVER want it!!

It's not that I don't pray to God to comfort me, to give me peace of heart and mind. It's just that I'm praying without words because I'm holding myself in check so hard that I'm scared to let go, and maybe that's not enough...

You know, the funny thing is that in a few days or weeks I'll be reading this post again, and by then I'll be stronger and calmer about everything. Right now however, I'm fighting the panic while feeling paralyzed at the same time.

My blog isn't going to be a fun place to visit during the next few weeks, so I won't blame you at all if you choose to skip it, or not to comment. It's really OK, I do understand. I need to get this out, I need to write about everything, even if it's not remotely related to Infertility. That's where I started, this is where I am now...

Facts & Feelings

2007-10-24T17:07:00.000+02:00

I wanted to wait before I wrote about my feelings concerning the outcome of the test, mainly because I thought I'd be more clear about them. Not so.

This is what I know:

Having the mutation just means I have an much bigger chance of contracting breast and ovarian cancer.
It's just a pre-disposition to cancer, not the Big C itself.
Without the BRCA2 mutation I have a 7% of getting breast cancer somewhere in my lifetime. With it, about 80%.
Without the BRCA2 mutation my chances of getting ovarian cancer is about 1,4%. With it, 50%.
Women who never have had children may be at greater risk for breast and ovarian cancer.
There are numerous prophylactic options available.
I do not have to decide right away what I should do.

This is how I'm supposed to be feeling:

Happy to know about the mutation: now I can be extra careful.
Thinking of knowing about it as something that empowers me.
Concentrating on living here and now, making the most of every day.

I'm worried about:

My medical scheme. It's not going to pay for the MRI the oncologist wants me to get without avail. Nor does it have adequate oncology coverage. An upgrade is needed ASAP.
If I do upgrade, and they ask me any new questions, I'll have to answer truthfully about the mutation, and then they might not allow my upgrade.
I can only upgrade in about a month's time, and it will only start January 2008.
So many more things are going through my mind, but I'm way too scared to write them down.

This is how I actually feel:

Watch this space, the jury is still out on this one.

All in all I'm doing ok. A really good cry is long overdue, but I find all kinds of excuses not to go there. So until I am brave enough to allow my tears to flow, I'll keep super-busy.

You know what amazes me? The strength I find in myself. I knew it was there: Infertility was a hard task master, but where I thought it would only have limited resources, it's like the widow's oil well. So far at least! But that is a whole different post altogether.

We're still waiting for my mom's results. She's doing OK under the circumstances. Positive and upbeat despite the pain and tiredness. Will let you know what happens as soon as we hear anything.

You all are super wonderful - your comments bring tears to my eyes, your love and encouragement makes me feel warm and cared for. I know I've said it a few times already, but you don't cease to amaze me with your non-stop support. Thanks again!

It's Official

2007-10-23T19:07:00.000+02:00

Seems like the little mutation has been quietly (so far!) sitting there for the past 40-something years. Both my sisters tested positive too.

Well, what do you say when the words are still all jumbled up and running riot in your mind? "Talk to you tomorrow" might be the best option right now.

I'm not as OK as I wanted to be, but at least I know the sun will shine again in about 10 hours' time!

Pulling an Ostrich on myself

2007-10-21T10:22:00.000+02:00

You all know about the phrase to "Bury your head in the sand". Fortunately for their species, ostriches aren't that stupid, but it works for me!

I wouldn't hide my head. Some other body parts of mine most definitely.

Tuesday is looming, and I'm really scared. Confused and emotional. Trying to work, but concentration is not on the menu today.

The day we got confirmation that my mom had the BRCA2 gene mutation, I thought I might go with the oophorectomy but nothing more. Maybe, (can you see how small the maybe is?) a hysterectomy too so I won't have to handle the bleeding side effects of the hormone replacement therapy. Not to mention the fact that that in itself can cause breast and ovarian cancer - between the devil and the deep blue sea it seems!

Well that was then. I discussed it with two really good friends, and both of them said NO to surgery at all. For various reasons, all sounding extremely good and convincing at the time. I was calm and sure: I'll deal with breast cancer if and when it happens to me. Until then I'll do my self-exams, go for an annual mammogram, and change my lifestyle for the better.

Again, that was then. When my mom almost died two weeks ago, everything changed. Even though the doctors don't want to confirm our suspicions (due to professional ethics I presume?) we are almost certain the pleural effusion was caused by her chemotherapy (taxotere). She suffered from extremely painful rashes on her hands, her nails (hands and toes) was equally painful and started falling off a few weeks ago. Not to mention her shortness of breath and utter exhaustion.

Yes she is very sick, and yes chemo is everything but a walk in the park. But seeing her suffer so much, has changed my mind yet again. Right now I would cut off and out everything that could remotely increase my chances of getting breast cancer. IF I have that damned gene mutation.

I can see it for the emotional reaction it is. But I also understand for the first time why women would gladly get rid of their breasts, uterus and ovaries to be safe from cancer. Despite the trauma the surgery undoubtedly cause. Not to mention the financial implications and the physical pain. The loss of all the body parts that makes them female. (Being infertile I've been through the argument that your femininity doesn't lie in your body parts or ability to procreate a million times - this post is not about that)

Lately my body feels more like an enemy than anything else. My ovaries, uterus and I have made friends even though I felt they let me down years ago when I needed them, but now I'd rather not think of them. It's not all that difficult. The Mirena helps me to forget that they're there.

My breasts are a whole different problem though. God has blessed me with a little bit more (uhm too much if you asked me!) than I wanted in that region. But with age came acceptance, and I actually started to like them. They are full of flaws but they are mine, and even though I never wear anything in public that would announce my cleavage to the world, I secretly adored that part of me.

It's October, and it's breast cancer awareness month, and just about everywhere I look the message shouts out: "Look at your breasts, touch them, feel for lumps, look for changes, go for a mammogram etc etc etc." (While we're on the October month subject - when last did you have a mammogram? Make an appointment TODAY. And don't do as I do, do as I say!) But I don't want to touch my breasts. I don't want to see them either. I want to ignore them, and maybe, just maybe they will go away quietly.

Forget it. They are in my face. Not literally, thank goodness no, but it's as if they have a life of their own lately. Asking for attention. I'm sure they expand on purpose just so I'd brush against them whenever I move my arms. So I'd be reminded they're still there. And then they get smaller again just to make me worried that something is really wrong. They take turns you see. One day Lefty itches, the next day Righty. Innocent itches don't worry, just like my nose or some other body part. I covered them in body lotion, quickly, so I could put them back underneath my clothes and try to hide from them again.

On Friday they started a new game. A nasty one. Sharp pain shooting through them. Like a thunderbolt (no not THAT painful!) - quick and gone again. Never in the same place twice. Happened about 8 times. But I'm not stupid. I know it's my mind playing tricks on me. This is absolutely psychosomatic. It's because they are the center of my worries and anguish waiting for the results on Tuesday.

I probably won't go for prophylactic surgery if it turned out I do have the BRCA2 mutation. (That's how I feel this second, but I retain the right to change my mind as often as I want to on this one!) On the one hand because I'm too scared (and maybe because my medical aid won't pay for it) and on the other hand because I really believe that God is the captain of my life's ship. He will take care of me, and give me the strength to handle whatever rough seas He steers me through.

Holding my breath again!

2007-10-18T19:30:00.000+02:00

I'm somewhat at a loss for words at the moment. My mom had an appointment with her new oncologist this afternoon, and I just got off the phone after speaking to my parents.

The oncologist ordered special tests to compare the breast cancer from 10 years ago to the new cancer that was removed from her lung in February this year. He wants to make sure that this new occurrence is breast cancer. According to him, the breast cancer 10 years ago was so small and so insignificant, that it wasn't supposed to recur.

He said that this might be totally unrelated to the breast cancer, that it might be related to ovarian cancer (even though there is no sign of it) and that it might not be cancer after all.

Did you read that? My mom might not have cancer. "Might" is the word we use to express possibility, so lets get this straight: There is a small possibility my mom might not have cancer after all. Can you believe that? God is amazing!

I'm realistic enough to know that the "might" could also go the other way. But you know what else? Doc S (oncologist - the newest angel in the fold) said he wants the results first, but he suspects that there wouldn't be any need for more chemo. If it turns out to be cancer, hormone therapy would be enough. No more chemo, and certainly no radiation.

I'm holding my breath; scared that if I exhale I'd get too excited and forget that we have to wait for the results. But I'm also praying harder than ever. God knows what He is doing, and whatever the results, He is holding us in His hand. Three business days stands between us and the results. Never before have I wished a weekend away, but this time I'd give it up in a second! So Wednesday here we come.

Talking about results. The Familial Cancer Clinic phoned and made an appointment with us for next week Tuesday. They have the results. We will get them on the 23rd. I'll talk more about that tomorrow, maybe Saturday. Seeing that I said I'm going to be blogging less, it looks like I've got more stuff to write about than I thought I'd have! And I'm SO behind on visiting your blogs *blush* - watch out for me over the weekend girlfriends!

I cannot publish this post without thanking you all again. Your caring thoughts, comments and emails feels like a warm, comforting blanket around me - thanks SO much for being there!

I met a few angels today...

2007-10-16T17:46:00.000+02:00

Yup. Actually more than a few. They were almost everywhere I looked. Dressed like human beings, walking and talking like us. They talked to me too.

No I'm not bonkers, I didn't take any illegal substance, and I didn't fall on my head since I last blogged. God is working miracles in His way - and they are everywhere. Small, medium and the large ones we are still praying for, if it's in His plan for our family. Since last Monday so many things happened.

Let me say firstly: my mom is doing SO much better. She is driving around, visiting friends, and went to a coffee shop with my sister Linda yesterday. I even caught her doing some weeding in the garden over the weekend!

No, I didn't exaggerate her condition and illness last week. Everything happened exactly as I told you. She almost died before she went to hospital Sunday before last. She said she felt it, my dad saw it happening, and the doctors were very worried. On Friday she went home, not needing any oxygen or pain medication. She was still a bit tired, sometimes short of breath, but I haven't seen her looking this good since January this year, before she got sick the first time.

I went to visit my parents on Sunday, totally ready and prepared to cook for us all. When I got there, everything was done, I only had to make the salad and lay the table! And mom flatly refused my help to pack the dirty dishes in the machine. Here is a picture I took of her and my dad on Sunday:

Her face is a bit puffy from the cortisone, (my dad's is puffy because he is a big teddy bear!) and truth to be told, this picture doesn't do her justice. (They might just hurt me for posting this picture!)

Back to my story. She had an appointment with her oncologist Dr D today. We're not very happy with the way he treated her, allowing her to get so sick without doing something to help alleviate her pain, but they trusted him. Today he informed them that the radiology dept at the hospital where they are, couldn't help them with the radiotherapy mom needed - broken machine or something. So they have to go to a different hospital 80km away. My dad asked if there was a possibility for them to rather go to a hospital about 20km from them, they phoned, and got an appointment for my mom immediately.

Doc D didn't like this at all and said if they don't want to go to his choice of hospital, then he would rather not treat my mom any more. (Good riddance I say!) In less than 30 minutes my dad got all the necessary reports, x-rays etc, and drove my mom to the other hospital. Let's call this one LA - Los Angeles - the place of Angels! (Now don't get confused - this is South Africa - this hospital was where I met the angels!)

My mom was almost swept off her feet by caring, helping, supportive nurses at "LA hospital". They were there less than a minute when the new doctor, Doc P, met them and discussed everything in detail with them. She sent my mom for a CT-scan and a bone density scan. That took a few hours, and while my dad went home to rest a bit and get some reports they forgot at home, I popped in to say hello. It's 5 minutes from my home where the old hospital was 20 minutes' drive away from me.

I was just in time to give my mom a hug and a hello before she went in for the bone density scan. We thought it was best for me to go home, since the scan would take about 45 minutes and by the time that was over, my dad would be there again. Just as we kissed goodbye, one nurse told me:

"No don't go, come in with your mom, you can keep her company. Come sit here, everything will be OK."

That was just one of the darling things they did for us. When my dad arrived 30 minutes later, another nurse called me to go get him and show him where my mom was, and brought an extra chair for him to sit on. They were so thoughtful, efficient, just wonderful! I left them a few minutes later with the promise of coffee at my place after they saw Doc P again.

There were a few minutes during the time I waited for them when I almost panicked. The news from these tests might not be good at all. But then I realized how calm I felt when my mom told me everything that happened before I arrived at "LA hospital". When they told me later that the scans showed my mom's cancer had spread even further than her lungs, it wasn't a shock. Not good news at all, but we felt cared for, safe.

The bad news is that the cancer has spread to the membrane around her intestines, her spine as well as some lymph nodes in her chest. But the good news is that these cancer cells are small, and treatable, they do not have to operate. Realistically it might never be operable, but we still have lots of hope. And her lungs are clean!

Last week this time we thought my mom was on the verge of dying. I was crying most of the time, even though God's grace gave me strength. On Tuesday she told me her cancer is terminal, and her response to the treatment will determine how long she will still be with us. In other words, she will be receiving mainly palliative care, making her last days as painless and comfortable as possible.

Realistically speaking again: yes, she might still be terminally ill, and the treatment she will be receiving at this new hospital might still only be palliative care, but it's as if the sun has broken through the rain clouds, and everything looks bright and beautiful.

Hope has shone through and filled our hearts to overflowing. Thank you dear God!

A memory for eternity

2007-10-08T20:02:00.000+02:00

Today brought me the incredible gift of a very special moment in time that I shared with my mom.

I phoned her early this morning, to ask how she slept and how she was doing, but she was scarcely able to speak to me. She was so out of breath and in so much pain. When I said goodbye, we both cried.

A little while later my dad phoned, in tears, and when I asked how things are going at the hospital, he answered that it wasn't going well at all. When I hung up the phone, the dam walls broke and I started to cry uncontrollably.

The shock of seeing my mom so utterly weak and in pain over the weekend took it's toll. The heartache of having her crying against my shoulder when she was too tired to undress herself couldn't be held in check any longer. Yes it was rough being the strong one when my mom needed me, but it was so special to have been there for her.

When I got to the hospital, she was much calmer and restful and the medication started doing it's work. She was so strong and so brave: making jokes with two of our friends who drove to the hospital with me. After they left, she was too tired to talk, and I again realized how positive she tries to be for everyone else's sake.

I had some songs on my cell phone of Anne Murray's Gospel CD that I wanted to share with her, and after I plugged in the earphones for her and started playing the songs, I paged through the newspaper lying on the bed, holding her hand in mine.

Two songs later, she motioned to me to lie with my head on her tummy. She took an extra pillow and puffed it under my head. My very sick mom, making me comfortable to lie with her...

And there we were, my mom lying with eyes closed, me sitting next to her, lying with my head on her tummy. Her hand was on my head, her arm framing my face, and while she listened she stroked my hair.

A bit later she took one of the earphones from her ear and held it next to mine. The song she shared with me was "Bridge over Troubled waters" and the first words I heard was:

When darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down

We just lay there, looking at each other, tears rolling down our cheeks. When the following lyrics were repeated in the song,

When you're weary
Feeling small
When tears are in your eyes
I will dry them all

she brushed the tears from my face and said: "I love you so much!"

We cried, we smiled, we loved. It was the perfect song for the perfect, most precious moment I've ever had with my mom, and I will cherish it in my heart for eternity.

************

Thanks so much for everyone's support and love in response to my previous post. You will never know just how much it means to me. Each and every comment was like a warm, comforting hug in real life.

My mom went to hospital yesterday when the pain and shortness of breath got too much for her to bear. The oxygen and morphine made her much more comfortable today. She suffers from malignant pleural effusion, a rather common occurrence with women suffering from secondary breast cancer that spread to their lungs, and they started the drainage earlier this evening. My dad said it was excruciatingly painful for her, but that it improved her breathing ability a lot. They drained about 2 liters of fluid within the first 2 hours! The fluid in her left lung (actually the pleural cavity) was starting to infiltrate the right one and pericardium (the membrane around the heart). Tomorrow they are hopefully starting radiation therapy, and her chemo will be adjusted to accommodate this new development. She is very, very sick, but it's going better every day.

My mom is the bravest, strongest, most positive person I know. I was ready to give up on Friday, but she is fighting back like a fierce lioness. She won't ever be cured of this cancer, but I believe that her strong will is going to help her heal.

Life is precious

2007-10-05T15:39:00.000+02:00

It looks as if my mom's cancer has spread despite the chemo therapy. The fluid in her lungs was tested and the results showed its filled with cancer cells. She's not doing well physically: she is extremely tired, and has difficulty breathing and speaking. My dad's not doing so well either, understandably so. Please pray for them, for the rest of my family too.

I won't be posting very often: words seem few and far between. Besides, Infertility doesn't seem so bad when my heart is aching for my mom...

Life is so precious, and time is running out.

Spring Break

2007-09-23T18:20:00.000+02:00

I'll be gone for a few days, running away to a beautiful little place in the Drakensberg mountains called Engogo Riverside Lodge.

It belongs to my sister and her husband, so family stays for free.

Actually, BIL promised I can go there for free for the rest of my life as payment for the website - Yippeee! Check it out, I'm rather proud of it!

My parents, youngest sister Wilma, her hubby and 2 boys are going to drive down tomorrow, and Linda and her family will join us on Thursday.

Thinking of all of you: those in the middle of new cycles, those of you in the early/middle/late days of pregnancy, and those of you in limbo. Please don't get up to any mischief or do things I wouldn't do. *grin* See you all next Sunday!

PS: Thanks for being patient with me while I wrote out the hurt in the previous post. I'm doing OK: tears are a wonderful way of cleansing the soul.

Still waiting for the rain...

2007-09-23T08:11:00.000+02:00

The tears came yesterday afternoon. About nothing, and about everything. I’ve been crying since then.

I cried about winter that left without as much as a goodbye. About spring that came during the night, left its fresh green colors and crispy, sweet smell, but disappeared before the morning broke. And about summer that made everything hot before I was ready to shed my winter disguise.

I cried about the children running in the mall, clutching balloons and eating ice cream, because I’ll never feel little arms creeping around my neck, nor a sweet, whispery voice breathing “I love you mom” into my ear.

I cried about the baby geckos scattering up against the wall, because I’ll never have the chance to call out “Come look my love!” and teach my child the wonders of nature.

I cried when my mom phoned, because I’ll never be able to see the wondrous joy on my parents’ faces when I tell them I’m expecting their grandchild. I cried because I’ll never see my dad on his knees next to my child, teaching him how to put the bait on the hook. I cried because I’ll never see my mom with my child on her lap, holding her close while reading about the love of Jesus.

I cried about my sister’s phone ringing, hearing her say something to her son, knowing no child of mine would ever ask my advice, need my teaching, my consolation when heartbroken, or share their joy when happy.

I cried when I smelled the Yesterday-today-tomorrow flower because it reminded me of my grandmother. And I cried when I realized there will never be a grandchild of mine remembering me in the smell and colors of a flower, or anything else.

I cried when I smelled the earth when I watered the garden, missing the rain with an ache in my heart, as much as I miss the children that are there, rather than in my arms.

I cried about my forever empty womb, my empty heart, and my child-empty future.

I’m still crying about my broken dreams. About unanswered prayers, those who were answered differently from what I begged of the Lord.

I’m crying for me, for the woman that buried her grief for so many years, trying to be strong, trying to be positive, trying to put Infertility behind her, not realizing it’s not something you can move from one place to another. Once it’s part of your life, you might be lucky enough some days to just remember the pain when you see the scars.

But then you might be one of the unlucky ones that are beaten down and left standing naked and alone, when everyone around them is clothed in parenthood.

I’m crying because I know I have to. It’s time to wash away the cobwebs that grew over the hurt I buried deep inside. I know the tears will cleanse my soul, and I know I will be even stronger when this too has passed.

Maybe I’ll cry for another hour, maybe till tomorrow or the day after. Maybe I’ll stop when I’m tired and weary and carry on in a week’s time. Maybe this time it will be enough.

For every beginning there always is an ending, and like the song says: “...the sun doesn't go down, it’s just an illusion caused by the world spinning round”.

I'll find different clothes, different than what I longed for; different clothes to hide my shame and grief. I will not be beaten down by Infertility. I will not be humiliated by the way it stripped me from my most precious of dreams.

I will wear my new clothes with pride, lift my face up into the light, and start dreaming different dreams...

Do you realize?

2007-09-22T15:57:00.001+02:00

My words are few and far between these days. But so you've noticed. Schools closed yesterday for a much needed spring break. Even though it's short I'm going to try my best to make it sweet too. Starting by sharing this video clip with you. (Received the link twice in my inbox today, so you might already have seen it somewhere else!)

The second thing I'm going to do is to visit all my dear blogfriends again. I've missed coming to say hello on your blogs, so be on the lookout for more than one comment from me!

You know by now that I'm a quote-aholic, so let me share todays special one with you as well:

Expect trouble as an inevitable part of life, and when it comes, hold your head high. Look it squarely in the eye, and say, "I will be bigger than you. You cannot defeat me." -Ann Landers

About healing & eye-candy

2007-09-19T21:13:00.000+02:00

I found this quote a few days ago, and it's been growing on me ever since.

“Paradoxically, a group of humans becomes healing and converting only after its members have learned to stop trying to heal and convert. Community is a safe place precisely because no one is attempting to heal or convert you, to fix you, to change you. Instead, the members accept you as you are. You are free to be you. And being so free, you are free to discard defenses, masks, disguises; free to seek your own psychological and spiritual health; free to become your whole and holy self.” Scott Peck

The community I landed in whilst trying to sort through the jumbled chaos of emotions I had (still have!) about Infertility and my divorce, is such a safe place. It allows me to become more whole and even though it rolls a bit strange from my fingers onto the page, more holy too. Thanks for being part of this special community, without you it wouldn't have been the same.

And what would healing be without some eye-candy? I saw the movie "One night with the King" with my mom yesterday. It's the story about Queen Esther and how she saved the Jews. It was beautiful! The music, the set, the costumes... and then that man. (Insert a picture of me salivating, tongue hanging on the floor, blushed, flushed etc!)

Before I go on, you need to understand something first. I'm not the type of woman that swoons easily over a man's looks. Dominic Purcell of Prison Break fame got my knees weak, and John Travolta always had a sweet spot in my heart, but Luke Goss, especially in this movie, had me breathless more than once!

He plays King Xerxes, and I'm a bit embarrassed to say that I was sincerely jealous (for a whole bunch of minutes) of the beautiful Queen Esther. But only till I went to sleep last night - then my subconscious turned me into the queen, and someone looking exactly like Luke Goss played my king!

Ok, back to earth. I can't believe I'm gushing about this man, it's actually very embarrassing admitting it when I always thought that other women doing the same were really totally silly! But between us, if I had to choose between Dominic Purcell (having just seen a yummy photo of him to refresh my memory) and Luke Goss, poor King Xerxes would lose out big time!

Weeding around my dreams

2007-09-18T19:03:00.000+02:00

This post doesn't have much to do with Infertility, or those tests, or sadness, or worry, or anything else you might've come to expect from me the past few months. It does have a little bit to do with me having (for the very first time mind you!) heart palpitations and shortness of breath about a certain not-so-well-known actor. It has more to do with what might seem like something really small, which actually is quite bigger when you start thinking about it.

There I was today: still very much in the aftermath of a just-saw-a-great-movie-high-feeling, busy drawing money from the ATM. I just had a nice chat with my mom over a cup of coffee, discussing our family's plans for the Spring break next week.

Just as I entered my pin, it was there. Slightly to my left in the music shop. Sitting serenely between a few guitar like instruments. I only had eyes for that one, beautiful, breathtaking, chestnut brown dream.

The ATM prompted me to finish my transaction, and the next moment I found myself inside the shop asking:

"How much is that cello in the window?"

The guy behind the counter smiled just slightly, and without missing a beat he said:

"R4 500. But if you want, we have cheaper ones available." (R4 500 = $625)

"It's OK, I'm still dreaming about it."

With a smile I turned and walked out the door, having lost my heart on that beautiful instrument.

It's something I've been dreaming about since I was a little girl. Picture this: a big, empty room with a shiny, golden brown wooden floor. The tall windows on 3 sides of the room are open, and the late afternoon breeze is billowing the sheer white curtains inward. I'm sitting in the middle on a chair, wearing a long, flowing white dress, playing a haunting melody on the cello between my legs.

This picture I found is minus the white dress, but it's the closest to the image in my heart and mind.

So why is asking about the price of a cello in a shop window so important? Because it brought me one step (a giant one!) closer to actually signing up for cello lessons. Right now I'm only dreaming about being able to afford a cello, not to even mention the lessons, but it's not that far out of reach at all.

I have enough of a musical background to be able to master the lessons quite easily, then it will just be lots and lots of practice. Having studied the piano for 11 years in school (and playing exams up to grade 6 level) and being a member of an orchestra for 4 years from grade 4 to 7, I might just be able to handle the little black notes on the musical stand.

Now I just have to adjust my dream a little bit to include those very sexy shoes - the rest is about to become a reality. Well, soon, I'm sure! If you wondered where I got the topic from - there is this little plaque on my computer screen: "Don't let weeds grow around your dreams." So I engaged in a bit of gardening today!

Will be back tomorrow to tell you more about that scrumptious actor I "discovered". He is worth the wait, I promise!

Limited perspectives

2007-09-16T14:51:00.000+02:00

Just when I thought I'm seriously suffering from mental constipation (sorry for the gross image - it was the best way to try and describe what's going on in my mind lately), along comes an email from one of my favorite websites. I've quoted from it often in the past, so you know it by now.

“If you are pained by external things, it is not they that disturb you, but your own judgment of them. And it is in your power to wipe out that judgment now.” Marcus Aurelius

We never have enough information to enable us to fully understand the truth of the reality around us. And there is never only one correct perspective about anything.

Knowing this helps me let go of my tendency to label things as good or bad. I suffer least when I can accept reality just as it is. And I benefit most when I open my heart and mind in appreciation.

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” Angela Monet

It explains my see-saw emotions somewhat. I feel real crazy some days; not that it's strange, I'm a bit wacko most of the time! *wink*

We haven't heard back from the clinic about the tests yet, and even though the results are in the back of my mind all the time, we're doing OK. My youngest sister Wilma isn't talking much about the results, which bothers me a bit. Linda (she's the one who had cancer) is expecting a positive result, meaning that she has the BRCA2 mutation. We might hear something within the next 10 days, will keep you updated.

Meanwhile I've been working my butt off, just wish it would get a bit smaller to show something for all my hard work! Our schools close this Friday for a week long Spring break, and I can't wait. I'm up to my ears (and deeper!) in assessment, reports and planning for next term. Keeps me out of trouble and from thinking too much, but then again it keeps me away from my favorite pastime too: visiting your blogs!

We've (my cousin A and I) submitted the first module of the course we're developing to teach barely literate rural women how to sew garments. (Have I told you guys about this yet? Can't remember!) I'm just sooooo proud of what we've accomplished so far. Even though we get paid for it, I feel it's my little part in doing something for the community. There is a very remote chance that I get the opportunity to facilitate this course as well, IF they can schedule it during the school holidays.

Some great news regarding school this week: my principal told me he decided that he wants me in the Computer Lab full time next year (yessssss!!!) and that means no extra curriculum subjects. It means more time to concentrate on teaching the kids what I'm dreaming of doing. Even though I love teaching Natural Science, my energy is divided too much, and I cannot concentrate enough on what I really want to do.

On Thursday he asked me if I would like to take on the task of the library as well and I'm just thrilled about it. After Tuesday we won't have any books left in what is currently called our media center. We've donated most of the books (that are so old that my parents used to read them when they were children!) to a neighboring Afrikaans school. During the last 4 years our school changed from having mainly white children to 100% black children from Tswana, Bapedi, Xhosa and about 50 refugee children from Rwanda, Zimbabwe and Malawi. (A few other cultures are represented too) So the books which are 95% Afrikaans totally unsuitable. We need a brand new library.

Ok, you might think I'm totally crazy. But this is a wonderful challenge, and since the new library/reading lab is going to be right next door to the Computer lab, (connected by a door on the inside, having separate entrances) this is going to be heaven for me! It's not going to be accomplished within a few months, but maybe in 2 years time, the picture in my head will be a reality. I'll post a "before" photo in a few weeks' time just to show you what we have to perform miracles with.

Last but not least, Pamela Jeanne is celebrating her 100th post - congratulations my friend! May the next 100 include telling us about the runaway success of your book and lots more accolades about your wonderful writing ability.

Chicken soup is not enough

2007-09-08T11:14:00.000+02:00

Wow, you're incredible. You wouldn't know quite how much your overwhelming support means to me. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Some people say the internet is a cold, heartless place - it's everything but that! Thanks for making me feel cared for - each and every one of you made a difference in my life with your heartfelt comments.

I haven't been posting much the past 2 weeks even though I had much to say and talk about. But since it wasn't positive and upbeat, my posts never got past the first 2 paragraphs. Thank goodness blogging is paper friendly - I would've had a forest worth of wasted paper from all the restarts!

Why I didn't just write what I felt and get over with it? Well, you might have realized that I have this thing about trying to be positive, seeing the bright side of every trying situation, to keep my chin up, look for the silver lining on the dark cloud, pull a stiff upper lip, let it go off me like water off a duck's back - I can go on almost forever using the phrases we have, but I'm pretty sure you get the message.

Growing up in a family of strong people (maybe it's part of being human, not just an Afrikaner thing) we were taught from a very young age not to bend under pressure, but to be tough, get up and go on. No matter what. So that's what I've been trying to do.

"It's not all that bad." OR "I'm stronger than this, there are worse thing that can happen." OR "Tomorrow the sun will shine again." OR "There is a lesson somewhere in this, I just have to keep on looking for it." Phrases like these have been part of my artillery of bounce backs whenever something upset me. All of the above mentioned phrases have truth in them, and yes, they have their own respective place in self-motivation. Sometimes they work, but sometimes they backfire terribly.

I've always thought that I have some kind of personality flaw when no amount of positive self-talk worked to keep the sadness and heartache away. Or that the black dog of depression was scratching on the door, looking for the smallest of openings to force himself into my life again.

And then I found this book on my brother in law's office desk when I was baby-sitting their kids earlier this week. We were playing "Prime Suspects" on his pc, and I had to be close-by to translate the difficult English words so their bright little eyes could find the hidden objects. At first I thought it was a new edition of the very successful "Chicken Soup" books, but "When Chicken soup is not Enough" proved to be something totally different.

"When Chicken Soup is Not Enough is a down-to-earth, bottom-line look at how our thoughts, emotions and attitudes affect our health, sometimes dramatically. This book demystifies the mind-body connection. It will empower anyone seeking higher levels of health and fulfillment in their life." Dr. Larry Dossey on Ralph E. Retherford's book.

The following paragraph struck me full force:

"Often, experts tell us that all we have to do is think positively. They tell us that emotions like anger, grief, and shame are harmful to our health. They aren't. These emotions are harmful only if they are denied, minimized, or suppressed into our unconscious. There, the energy persists and builds unseen until it becomes powerful enough to wreak mischief on our bodies.

If you try to use positive thinking to avoid bad feelings, you risk pushing the feelings into your subconscious. If you permit them to surface and can work through them, in time they disappear. Joys are short-lived, and so are negative emotions, as long as you are willing to feel them and let them go."

Now I know why my mom has been suffering from terribly painful, itchy hands that look very much like chilblains, except that she has now developed big blisters all over her knuckles and fingers too. She is the text-book version of positivity and strength - smiling, laughing - being super-positive despite being very, very sick from the chemo therapy she has been receiving. Her oncologist says it might be from the cortisone and chemo combined, and maybe just an allergic reaction towards the drugs she is receiving. No ointment has helped, and believe me has tried many! (She needs to read this book too!)

I also understand why I've been suffering from blinding migraines and other unrelated health issues lately - and here I was blaming everything on spring. Actually, our winter disappeared overnight and it's hot, hot HOT - very suddenly. So forget about spring, we skipped that - summer is here to stay. (Ok, I just did it again, changed the subject when I try to face the facts!)

*Sigh* - I'm sorry for not being happy and smiling and upbeat. Sometimes we can handle reading about other people's sorrow and grief because it helps us in understanding our own emotions. And sometimes it's just too hard to handle. I'll try my best to get this out of my system as soon as possible, but until then I need to write about it.

I also need to cry. LOTS. It is sitting there just behind my eyelids, high up in my throat too. I'm scared to give in to the emotion, but I know it will be better to work this through. You have to fill the bath before you can pull the plug to let the water out... maybe I just won't plug it to start with. *wink*

Thanks for being there, and thanks for listening - you're very special to me!

Waiting to Exhale

2007-09-06T12:17:00.000+02:00

Yes, I’ve been quiet for a while. School has been very busy, but then I was also occupied with worry that changed into feeling a bit shell-shocked at the moment.

I’ve told you before that my mom had breast cancer 10 years ago, and that it returned in February this year. My sister L had breast cancer 5 years ago when she was 34. To complete the genealogical picture, my maternal grandmother died of breast cancer when she was 54.

The scare we got when my mom’s cancer returned prompted L to ask her oncologist about genetic testing because of the family history. He thought it a good idea, and so the wheels started rolling.

On Tuesday we got the results of my mom’s blood tests. She has the BRCA2 mutation. This means that my two sisters and I each have a 50% chance of having the gene as well. We had our blood drawn for the (very expensive!) blood tests, and so the 2nd part of this waiting game began. Within the next 3 weeks we’ll know if we inherited something we’d rather not have.

No matter how positive I try to be, the reality is very, very scary.

My mom’s cancer will definitely return. Her treatment will determine the time it takes to start out again. L’s cancer might return, all depending on the result of the blood test. W & me are worried that one of us is next in line.

These are the facts: women with the BRCA2 mutation, has an 80% chance of developing breast or ovarian cancer in their lifetime. These women also have an increased risk of developing colon cancer. If you do have the gene mutation, it’s not a given that you’ll get breast cancer, but taking preventative measurements will decrease your risk.

It’s these measures that scares me, even though the choice will be mine in the end. A preventative mastectomy reduces your chances of breast cancer by 90%. Having a salpingo-oophorectomy – the big word for having your ovaries and tubes removed – is another option. And when you have that done, it’s better to have a histerectomy as well since the hormone therapy you have to take because of the lack of ovaries causes heavy bleeding.

The oncologist in charge of our tests said that she strongly recommends that I go for the salpingo-oophorectomy in the light of the fact that I have PCOS, and seeing that I don’t have much use (or planned use!) for my ovaries and uterus. Even if my tests results are negative for BRCA2. So much for having a few more years to decide if I still want to try to have my own children.

All in all I’m OK, no panic rising in my throat, no bad nightmares, just a bit shell-shocked. I know it’s no use being over emotional and worried about it, and losing sleep stressing about the results of the test won’t help either. If it’s positive and my gene at position 12.3 on the long arm of chromosome 13 has a mutation where it’s not supposed to have one, I’ll deal with it as needed.

Until then my ovaries, my uterus and I will have a nice long talk to decide if and when we want to part. But in the small hours of the night I will fervently hope and pray that the decision won’t be taken for me.

Counting my blessings

2007-08-27T19:56:00.001+02:00

I just HAVE to get something positive and happy on this blog before I'm going out of my mind and you get confirmation of the fact that I'm totally bonkers. So let me show you what my sister W gave me over the weekend. (She is the younger, thinner, more beautiful version of me!)

On Friday afternoon, she, my mom and I (me/I? Whatever - you know what I mean!) got together to buy some special yarn at a great knitting shop around the corner. She asked: "Pink or red?" with her hands behind her back, and since I'm feeling a bit more feminine than assertive these past few days, pink was the choice. And this was what she pulled from behind her back. Aren't they beautiful?

On Saturday afternoon our family got together at sister W's home to celebrate my brother's (C) birthday. He had it in June but this is the first time since then we got to see him. We had such a wonderful time. Maybe it's because I'm getting old(er), but every passing day I appreciate my family more. They all have their quirks and moods, but I definitely stood first in line the day families were handed out - they truly are the best!

After my brother opened his presents, we started laying the table for dinner, and there was this one lonely present - standing all on its own. I wanted to take it out to my brother, thinking that we forgot about it earlier, but W told me it was mine! Wow! Earlier that day, she and my mom went to the store to get some extra presents for C, and found these cups. She said she immediately thought of me, and bought them on the spot. Look how beautiful they are!

Its good to count one's blessings when you're down in the dumps - its a sure way to get a smile on your face and in your heart and before you know it, the dreary dumps are looking like a green pasture again. All my siblings are out of this world, but somehow W knew just how much I needed a pick-me-up, so she got me two in so many days. Sis, I've said so many times before, but once again: when I count my blessings, I count you twice!

From blockage to mere obstacle

2007-08-26T10:10:00.000+02:00

There has been a clump of hurt sitting like a stuck baseball in the middle of my chest for the past 2 weeks or so. It's not the first time in my life I have hurt stuck there. There was a time when it was bigger, and then times where it was much smaller. What bothers me is that I'm not used to it being stuck for longer than a day or two anymore.

The strength I've found during the past few years came with certain fringe benefits. One of them was the ability to distance myself from the hurt in such a way that I could see it for what it was: temporary. The knowledge that this too shall pass made the hurt bearable and made me more positive towards whatever caused it and how it affected me.

For more than 14 days now I've been trying to break through the wall like an obstinate child. The mental image of me ramming my shoulder into it, refusing to be sucked down into sorrow is a vivid one. It will NOT consume me, I will NOT surrender.

But I'm afraid I'm going to have to do something drastic to up my energy levels. Yes, I'm praying, and yes it works, but I strongly believe that you cannot just pray for something and sit waiting for it to fall into your lap. It's like keeping on trying to make a baby "the normal way" whilst knowing it will never work for you, forgetting the new possibilities of IVF/ICSI etc. It might work, then again maybe not, but I'm digressing a bit.

I've always known that I'm a bit more sensitive than I would like to be. Actually way more sensitive. Sometimes I've thought that I'm too sensitive for this world that is consumed with pain and sorrow. Then I just lowered my head, threw my shoulder forward and charged the wall. And it worked.

Today I'm just sitting here watching the wall, no energy or inclination to charge forward, and I'm irritated with myself for typing the first part of this sentence. I'm stronger than that, I can beat this episode, because that's all it is: an episode of pain and that means it's going to be short lived (relatively!) and it will end.

And then I remembered a post I wrote a few months ago. Here is the quote I used there:

Since writing the previous post I found out a few things about the Ford Ka that enlightened me to why the bumper didn't have any permanent damage to it after the accident. It (the bumper) is injection moulded in a plastic that has only just been developed within the last 2 years for the motor car industry. I didn't know that, and thinking about it, even plastic breaks and cracks when subjected to abnormal circumstances.

Knowing this helps me understand what happened, but it doesn't take anything away from my astonishment at what I saw. And there still isn't a single scratch on that part of the bumper. My brother suggested that I should get the shards of the broken light and use silicon glue to put it back and make the light waterproof again, since it's such a small part of the light that got smashed. Please cross your fingers that those pieces of glass will still be lying there next to the pole when I go look for them tomorrow!

I saw a miracle happen today!

2007-08-22T18:13:00.000+02:00

Yup. A real life honest to goodness miracle. And I was the lucky girl! This is how it happened.

Today was a HECTIC day, the 2nd to last day of a worse than hectic week. Our ex-principal had her retirement function at school this morning, and we worked like maniacs to get everything perfect for her big day. Got to school at half past 6 and when I walked into the principal's office he said he wanted to see me, not right then, but alone please. The fact that he said the "alone please" part without saying good morning meant I was in trouble. Bad start to a day that kept getting worse by leaps and bounds.

If I gave a passing thought in the past to the fact that teachers need an extra pair of hands and a clone of herself, I'm totally convinced of it now. I'll gladly leave the clone at school since the moment the bell rings and it's time to go home, things somehow calm down.

Not today though.

Seeing that all the guests had to get VIP parking, the teachers' cars were "banned" to the netball field for the day. That's the best excuse I can come up with for the fact that everything came to a crashing halt when I reversed into a netball pole. I got out of my car in total shock, and when I saw the bumper curled backward around the pole and forward around the right rear wheel, I burst into tears. This girl experienced her first hysterical fit. (That's when I realized that I can stay calm in a crisis, as long as it's someone else's!)

Let me tell you a little bit about my car first. For 13 years I drove an old, dilapidated Opel Monza. It was on my ex-husband's name, and it never really felt like mine. The car desperately needed new brakes, shocks and just about anything else that were on the brink of breaking down. In January 2006 when I was permanently appointed as teacher again (after an absence from teaching of about 4 years) I juggled with my budget and decided I'd be able to afford a small car. I bought a brand new Ford Ka. It's bottom of the range, only the second cheapest car available, but I wanted 1 luxury only: aircon. And I got it! It was love at first sight - my first car and I felt like a queen!

This is what it looks like. The color is Tonic: an icy shade of blue.

Back to the accident. While I was standing there with my face in my hands, tear ducts working overtime, looking at my poor little Ka that was wrapped around the pole, the principal, secretary and caretaker of the school came running to me. The wheel was literally flat against the pole, and my mind was working overtime as to where I'd put the number for my insurance tow-in service. There was no way I would be able to drive this car of mine home.

The principal asked me in a stern voice if I have insurance and the secretary kept patting my back. I was crying as if it's the end of the world or worse and only managed a nod. The caretaker got into my car and drove forward a bit, away from the pole.

And that's when it happened.

The crumpled up bumper started popping out, back into shape! It was totally surreal watching it happen. Within seconds it was back to its original shape. No bump or dent at ALL. We looked at each other incredulously - if we didn't SEE the bumper curled around the pole, if we didn't HEAR the crashing into it part, and if it wasn't for the few shards of red glass from the rear light laying on the grass, it would've been like it didn't happen at all.

The secretary looked at me open mouthed: "Wow! That was a powerful prayer!"

The truth is that God looked out for me when I was too shocked to even think of praying. I was way too deep into the crying part - it was just about impossible to stop immediately, but I think I cried for a somewhat different reason by that time.

Just to show you how my car looks after the accident:

Can you see how far the bumper sticks out past the light part? Imagine that pole being right up against the wheel. And there is not a single scratch in sight. None. Nada. Niks.

It's going to cost me about R750 ($100) to repair the light and since that is less than half my standard insurance excess, it's not even necessary to put in a claim.

Now isn't that just the most amazing and wonderful miracle?

A Lost Penguin

2007-08-19T10:17:00.000+02:00

This blog was started to get the jumbled words in my soul organized. It worked. For a while that is. But the past week brought new emotions and feelings that prove to be untameable. So far at least.

Do you know that helpless feeling rising up from the pit of your stomach, threatening to grab you by the throat and strangle all sanity from you?

I’m a strong woman, I overcame so many really difficult situations, and I know this current storm will die down and the sea would look like a big, peaceful lake again. But right now the waves are tsunami size and there is nowhere to run.

There are so many words I can pin down to try and explain what is going on. My sister is in the middle of the storm, unfortunately not in the eye thereof – so you see it’s not my place to blab out all details of her private life on the internet.

At first I tried to distance myself from this situation, while being there for her, reasoning that even though it touches my life too because she’s my sister and I love her lots, it’s her life, and it won’t affect mine so much. That’s where I made the BIG mistake. Or maybe it showed me that I’m depending way too much on life going on like it is for ever and a day.

It was an extremely rude awakening when I realized that so much of my security was invested in life around me.

My parents living close-by, being relatively healthy, and then my mom got sick and almost died. My brother having an incredibly well-paid job after working for peanuts for 15 years, and then the worries when his colleagues got fired one after the other. (He survived the resizing of the company) My sisters and their families living close-by, enabling me to visit with them often, seeing my nephews grow up from beautiful babies into pre-teenagers, and now this new horror story.

So you see: a big part of my little world was kept safe through the stability of things in a situation I saw as perfect enough for now. (Read – it can be better but please don’t let it change too much, and pleasepleaseplease let it go on till forever!)

The whole card house is about to come tumbling down and I feel like a lost penguin on a piece of ice in the middle of the North Sea.

Life in my family as I know and love it, is about to change drastically. I’m so scared of what’s lying ahead, but it’s no use trying to hope that it will go away. Some things just don’t.

I’m sorry that I’m so vague about the whole situation. I need to leave most things unsaid where I so need to talk about them: the internet is a weird place, and oh so small.

**********************

On a lighter note, I’ve had time to update my previous post with more photos from my class.

I missed all your blogs during the past week, didn’t have any time to come visit you. Have I told you about the project I’m working on with my cousin? Well, it’s going crazy – we worked till past midnight on Friday to get the first module finished – but we’re a mean team! The coming week is our ex-principal’s retirement function, and I’m on the social committee organizing it – no sleep and no rest for the stupid sheep who said yes when they asked for help!

And now I’m off to visit you –let me just get some coffee first :)

A Teacher's heaven

2007-08-15T09:59:00.000+02:00

I'm the luckiest and happiest teacher in the world at this moment. It took more than a year to get to this point, but at last I can say we've arrived! There will always be a list of a few small things I want to add or upgrade or change, but this is as close as I can get to my dream for this classroom.

In September 2005 our school received 20 ready for recycling-dump old computers from a very well-meaning local police department that adopted our school. Since I was the only one at our school with computer literacy background, I was the "unlucky" one and got handed the task of setting up our school's computer center.

This classroom started out as a Science laboratory, changed into a normal classroom later, with plain desks combined with 3 different sized laboratory chairs. Three electricity sockets and two one working neon light - how on earth would we be able to get 20 pc's to work? It seemed like a mammoth task. Getting the 20 pc's switched on proofed to be impossible. None of them had CD ROMS, hard drive capacity was less than 4 gig, and the RAM was fixed at 64 MB. Not even worth upgrading!

To understand our lack of funds in the school better, you need a bit of background information. Many of the children in our school come from Soshanguve and Mamelodi, black townships around Pretoria. Many of the children come from single parent families, and even more parents are unemployed. We do however have a few children whose parents are working in the police force and government departments around or school - which is situated in the CBD of Pretoria. We do not receive half the school fees we're supposed to, so we're very much dependant on donations and fund-raisings.

In 2006 the school organized a gholf day with the help of my mom. She is just incredible when it comes to asking for and getting donations. One of these "asking for" meetings turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to the school: Telkom Foundation undertook to donate a state of the art computer center to our school!

By the end of 2006 I was the proud teacher in control of a brand spanking new computer center, with 20 work stations and a server. We also received custom made tables that enhanced the security set-up, DSL, a laser printer AND airconditioning in our classroom! That year also saw the electricity being upgraded to accommodate all the new installations and security gates at all the doors.

We were very happy with our incredible gift, but a few practical problems cropped up: classes range from 38 to 40, and sharing a computer is not the favorite passtime of any child! The police department that adopted us, heard our plea and donated 10 more pc's, the school ordered 10 more custom made desks to fit in with the rest and the children were happier than ever.

After all the installations were done, the walls (a pinkish orangy color) didn't look all that good anymore and the these-walls-have-to-be-painted itch started. And then I thought, why not new blinds too? These old/beige/green/brown curtains need a new home! So we got busy. The children donated R20 ($3) if they could afford it, and got a CD with funny video clips from the internet on them as a thank you gift. We collected enough money to be able to buy new color posters, paint, mouse-pads (we didn't have those either!) and plants. Great friends of mine decided to donate the money for the blinds and we were set.

Patience was one of the things we had to have lots and LOTS of, since nothing happened quickly, but at long last our blinds was installed yesterday. The faces and comments of the children coming into the class seeing the new look the first time is priceless. They are so excited and so happy with their computer lab that has finally been dressed the way we've dreamed about.

Enough talk - here is my classroom: isn't it beautiful? (And yes, I cleaned up my desk before taking the picture - it's filled with books and school stuff most of the time!)

The computers are hidden below the desktops: they are lifted up when the computers are in use and closed again when we have to do classwork or whenever

a subject is taught that doesn't make use of the computers. You can see the keyboard peeping out in the table just to the left of the overhead projector. I'll download more pictures from my phone tonight, and show you what the rest of the class looks like.

Now I just have to find the time to put the posters back up! I'm in teacher's heaven - and the fun has only started!

***************UPDATED PHOTOS***************

Anti-clockwise, taken from the doors into my class.

All the pictures were taken with my new Sony Ericsson K810i phone - but seeing that I'm still learning how to use it, I forgot to switch on the flash a few times!

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the incredibly wonderful comments in this post. I know my own limitations and short-comings as a teacher, thanks so much for thinking and saying what you did despite that!

Do it Now!

2007-08-12T16:15:00.000+02:00

This post is mainly directed at myself: I'm standing in front of my mirror and talking to the person I see there, because the topic of this post is something I need reminding of time and again, more than once a day.

I read this quote somewhere in the numerous emails I receive from various quote-places. (My name is Karen and I've got a thing about quotes!) I read it, and even though I've been trying really hard to ignore the impact it had on me, it didn't work all that well to postpone something yet again.

"There are those of us who are always about to live. We are waiting until things change, until there is more time, until we are less tired, until we get a promotion, until we settle down -- until, until, until. It always seems as if there is some major event that must occur in our lives before we begin living." George Sheehan

All that quote needs is the following sentence: "until I have a child of my own".

I waited so long for my life to start in the way I imagined it to be, I forgot to live the life I had. And I wasted one of the most precious things imaginable: TIME.

This realization shook me awake a few months ago already, but the problem I have is this: I forgot how to live while I was waiting. You see, I'm really good at waiting, I've practiced my patience to perfection and by now I'm a champion at facing those demons I never dreamed I'd had to encounter in my lifetime.

Waiting and patience does NOT equal living. I know I have to kick-start my life in this new direction I know I WANT to take, the longer I wait the more time I'll waste. But it's super easy to slide back into hibernation, and play the waiting game again. It's safe doing that, being in that "I'm patient and calm"-zone. And I'm only fooling myself by going there again AND trying to justify it.

It's a mind-thing, I know that, but it's so incredibly hard to unlearn something you've been doing for many, many years. So right now I'm searching for that spark I need to get going with this "To-do" list in my mind. It need not start a bonfire, but it has to be strong enough to get things going.

I've got a few ideas I'm contemplating, but I'd love to hear what you guys think would do the "spark"-trick!

To Celebrate YOU

2007-08-09T17:47:00.000+02:00

Today is a public holiday in South Africa. We're celebrating National Women's Day and honoring the women that made a special impact in our lives. It also commemorates 9 August 1956 when women participating in a national march petitioned against pass laws (legislation that required African persons to carry a document on them to ‘prove’ that they were allowed to enter a ‘white area’).

You all know what impact my mom has on my life, and one of these days I'll tell you more about my super special sisters. So I decided to celebrate a few other incredible women I know.

YOU are one of them. Yes you, the woman reading this. (If you're a man, oops! Thanks for reading here anyway :) )

Many of you have commented on my previous posts: some often, some once in a while, and some of you feel more comfortable just lurking. Each and every one of you made an impact on my life.

To those of you that left comments - you play such a big part in my healing process, in my journey from here into the future. I cannot begin to tell you how much each and every word has meant to me (and continue to do!), even if you thought it to be ordinary. Thanks for being there, thanks for replying to what I've said, thanks for not thinking me silly and self-indulgent or just plain weird. And even more thanks for the warm, loving, inspiring encouragement you give. It means more to me than you would ever know.

To those of you that just visited, read my posts, and left silently: I thank you too. You took the time to come here, to read my thoughts and feelings, and even though you didn't leave words behind, you left your presence. The fact that you took the time to read my posts, that so many of you are returning day after day - that is special to me too!

I don't know any of you personally, but you're worth so much to me. You might think it of little consequence to me, but I can assure you, your friendship makes my world a brighter and happier place. And yes, I'm calling it friendship. It's far more than just acts of kindness, or good neighborliness. You're giving of yourself, and I hope that I would never disappoint any of you in the way I react towards your gifts of time, advice, encouragement and warmth.

So here's to you my blog friends - go pour yourself a glass of wine or water or juice, and know that you're appreciated a LOT!

Acceptance & Change

2007-08-08T20:30:00.000+02:00

Those of you following my blog the past few months will know about my decision to change my mind map. I strongly believe that positive thoughts makes us stronger in the end, and that it is absolutely essential that we do not let go of Hope, no matter how beaten and crushed we are by our struggles.

No matter how hard I try to be positive and upbeat and strong, some days it's just so much more difficult to keep the smile on my face and in my heart. So many times I've felt guilty about feeling it, thinking it, and eventually saying that I'm really sad. I came to the conclusion that it's not wrong to feel, think or talk about being sad. If you ignore it there will come a day when it jumps up and bites you in the a... uhm where you least expect it!

And yes, wallowing in sadness for a while is OK too, but it's when you're making it a habit that the red lights should start flickering like a crazy mono-colored 70's disco.

When he was a young boy, a certain Dr. Post's mother would say to him: "Well, Stevie, why don't you go out and help somebody." It always worked - he felt better after doing something for someone. (Read more about it here) That's what I'd like to do too, but I'm working towards it.

Why do I have to work towards it? Am I so wrapped up in myself that I can't do a simple random act of kindness? That bothered me too, but then I realized something important: I cannot give of myself to others as much and as freely as I want if I don't have the necessary direction in my life. Other people might be able to, I need to get my life in order so I'd be able to give more than just random acts.

And just as it happened so often in the past when I'm looking for a certain answer, there was this email in my inbox. Now I know that sounds just a little bit wacky, but bear with me and read this:

Making life our own

“Life is not lost by dying; life is lost minute by minute, day by dragging day, in all the thousand small uncaring ways.” Stephen Vincent Benet

What’s needed for a new relationship with time and life?

Intention -- Get really clear about what you want.
Desire -- How much do you want something new for yourself? Know your motivation. Desire brings the energy for change.
Belief and/or willingness to trust you can have what you want. If belief is lacking, can you believe in the possibility that you can find a new way of living?
Perseverance, discipline -- It takes time and effort to change attitudes and habits. We can’t expect a new life overnight.
Acceptance, both of what’s happening now and of who we are. Until we honestly and openly accept our present situation, we cannot change it.
A willingness to try something new.

“It is so easy to waste our lives: our days, our hours, our minutes. ... It is so easy to exist instead of live. Unless you know there is a clock ticking. So many of us changed our lives when we heard a biological clock and decided to have kids. But that sound is a murmur compared to the tolling of mortality.” Anna Quindlen

(From this site)

This statement made me stop in my tracks: Until we honestly and openly accept our present situation, we cannot change it.

Isn't that just too painfully true? I don't want to stay in this stage of my life forever. But before I can make the changes I want, I have to acknowledge the situation I want to change, and it's not as easy as it sounds...

How do you say thanks?

2007-08-07T20:57:00.000+02:00

It's going to snow tonight. Not just a flake or two, but inches.

That doesn't seem strange if you're living in a country where snow is something you see every single winter. But if you're living in a city that hasn't seen snow since June 1968, it sure is going to be something extraordinary!

Why do I say this? Because today is the first day in almost 6 years that I made a doctor's appointment and went. Should tell you something about how sick I felt huh? But before I go on, let me just add this disclaimer: I'm not trying to win your sympathy - that would just make me run away. I drank my medicine and I'm better now. My brain doesn't want to burst out my eyes anymore when I cough and my teeth aren't being pounded into my jaws either. The two little men with super sharp needles who took turns to prick my inner ears all the way into the center part of my brain has also disappeared.

Visiting the doctor is NOT my favorite thing in this world. Most of you who have been through the mill of IF or any other condition that requires lots and lots of doctor appointments will understand my adversity to them. I don't hate doctors, but I certainly don't like visiting them either. You buy over the counter medicine, use it for a week or 7 days and after the 2nd day in bed you're OK again. It always worked in the past for me, just not this time.

Long story short, I have major inflammation in my ears, sinuses and throat. The 2nd time the doc told me to say "Aaaahh" she actually said: "Oh my". It's NOT what you want your doctor to say. She should just say that it's not so bad and that the first dose of medicine will make you want to feel like dancing again.

I'm almost dancing, because something wonderful happened today.

Lady Macleod, if the above doesn't convince you that I have a perfectly watertight alibi for not reading your blog yesterday, I give up! But I'll try my utmost best to be ready for any future happenings, promise.

This is the award Lady M gave me:

Dear Lady M, thank you SO MUCH! This means a whole bunch and more to me. :) Please take a minute or so to read what she said about this award on her blog, and visit Pamela Jeanne who received the same award too (Congrats PJ!)

I still have that feeling of wanting to turn around, thinking it's someone behind me you're talking to. I don't feel courageous, but it is so special being thought of as someone with courage. This blog of mine got started as a venting place, somewhere to sort out my mixed up feelings about ending up in an empty place, so different from what I envisioned my life to be.

Through your encouragement and motivation, and that of all the warm and wonderful friends I've made through a blog I never thought would live longer than a month or two, I've discovered that the "empty place" is not so empty after all. It's filled with warmth and love and caring and not a single ounce of it is in the least virtual!

You guys rock!!

***UPDATE****
Feeling a lot better, thanks to all your well-wishes - it helped get rid of those ugly lil' men inside my ears and the rest of the malaise too. :)

I'm an INTP

2007-08-06T16:12:00.000+02:00

I got curious to see how my test would work out, and lo and behold, curiosity is an important trait of my personality! Now who would've guessed that. *grin*

It's strange thinking of myself being described as an Engineer, but the traits they describe below is SO me, and it's comfortable wearing those trade marks.

This is what they say about INTP's:

"INTPs are logical, individualistic, reserved, and very curious individuals. They focus on ideas, theories and the explanation of how things work. They are especially adept at discussions and debate. They have the ability to focus intently on a subject. They appreciate and respect intelligence in others."

"INTPs live in the world of theoretical possibilities. They see everything in terms of how it could be improved, or what it could be turned into. They live primarily inside their own minds, having the ability to analyze difficult problems, identify patterns, and come up with logical explanations. They seek clarity in everything, and are therefore driven to build knowledge. They are the "absent-minded professors", who highly value intelligence and the ability to apply logic to theories to find solutions."

- Portrait of an INTP (The Personality Page)

"INTPs are relatively easy-going and amenable to most anything until their principles are violated, about which they may become outspoken and inflexible. They prefer to return, however, to a reserved albeit benign ambiance, not wishing to make spectacles of themselves."

- INTP Profile (TypeLogic)

And it seems that I'm in a fitting career too. They just need to find an alternative for marking books - that is the one thing about teaching that cannot be called one of my pet peeves - it's a MAJOR peeve of mine!

What was really interesting to see was how I fit in with the rest of the world.

INTP Population
Total: 2.5%
Male: 4%
Female: 1%

No wonder I often feel like a stranger in paradise!

It's an eye opener to see myself described so accurately. Some of the things I like a lot, some I feel like deleting and hiding somewhere it can't be found. But it all fits kind of comfortably. In the end it is just a test, and it doesn't prescribe who I have to be.

I'm just me, trying to make sense of this life I'm living.

The little general with the big heart

2007-08-05T12:22:00.000+02:00

The little guy in this photo is my youngest nephew, De Wet. He is 5 (almost 6!) and known as "the wild one" in our family. In a very nice way that is.

Don't let that sweet smile fool you for too long: he is fearless, and despite being the youngest, he doesn't take any nonsense from the other 4 boys, 2 of them his older brothers.

He is wearing his maternal grandfather's middle name proudly. The name De Wet belonged to a well known general from one of the many wars in our country's history during the 1800's. In some intricate way he is part of our family tree, hence the name being handed down to the new generations.

My dad gave each of his grandsons a special nickname during the first few months after their birth, and De Wet became "Die Generaal" or "The General". The first grandson is called "Bossiekop" - he had a bunch of unruly black hair on his head when he was born. The second grandson grandpa calls "Priester" or "Priest". He had this unusual habit of holding his hands in front of his body - reminding you of a very serious priest. Then came "Bokkie", roughly translated little fawn, because his eyes were so big in comparison with the rest of his face - just not brown but a stunning shade of blue. The 4th grandson is called "Fielies" - an endearment that refers to "my little baboon".

Back to my story about the general. His mom (my sister) popped in for a visit yesterday, and told me how her youngest son surprised her that morning with his spontaneous show of love and wisdom towards a friend of his.

She went to pick him up after the friend's birthday party, and asked him if he thanked his playmate for everything. He rushed back with Trevor who was leaving at the same time, and the two little boys said "Thanks Louis, it was a great party!" upon which another boy said: "Thanks for nothing!"

Maybe he heard it from a grown-up and thought it funny, not quite knowing what it meant exactly, but Louis, the birthday boy, turned to look for his mom, burst out in tears, and started walking away.

De Wet ran after him and put his arms around his friend, trying to console him. Then this little general told his mate: "Please don't cry, all your friends enjoyed your party. Don't let just one person spoil this for you." He took his little friend by the hand and took him to his mother, explained what happened, hugged him and went back to my sister. She was standing close-by, watching her son in amazement.

Back in the car, on their way home, she praised him for his wonderful show of love and care, saying she was proud of him. He answered: "You know mom? It was such a wonderful party, and Louis is such a good friend, I'd do just anything not to see him unhappy!"

It's so special to see my sisters' boys grow up into wonderful young men, and it's even more special to hear heartwarming stories like this one. The knowledge that I am part of their lives, and that I have the wonderful privilege of living close enough to them to be able to be with them as often as possible is such a huge bonus. It really takes the edge of not having my own children.

My 5 nephews' love fill my heart to bursting sometimes, especially when they come running to me hugging the breath out of my lungs. It's even better when they curl up next to me when we watch a movie. I love them to bits, even on the bad days when their almost-teenage-moods (and the my-brother-who-is-almost-a- teenager-does-it-so-let-me-try-it-too!) makes me sigh in relief that I only have to witness it, not sort it out!

To my two wonderful sisters: "You will never know just how much it means to me that you make me part of your children's' lives in such a loving, sincere way, without making it seem like a consolation prize. When I count my blessings, I count you all twice!"

Paying it forward

2007-08-05T11:23:00.000+02:00

One of you wonderful people reading my blog referred it to Mike Thomas at Blog Interviewer. On their website it says the following: "BlogInterviewer.com is a website devoted to discovering the most interesting bloggers on the Internet and their reasons for sharing their thoughts with the world."

Thanks sooooooo much for thinking my blog was interesting enough to take the time and refer it. I paid it forward and referred 6 of my favorite blogs to www.bloginterviewer.com. Many of you with blogs of your own are on the site as well, so you know what it's all about.

They have a monthly competition in which you can vote for a blog displaying the following graphic:

Click here to vote for my site

I'm not into asking for votes AT ALL. I don't like it. The fact that you're coming here to read my blog is great enough for me, no extra favors needed. But then I thought : Maybe you guys would like to be part of contributing money to the Nelson Mandela's Children Fund. All you have to do is support BlogInterviewer and vote for my site. Easy as that!

Here is their mission statement:

In the pursuit of its vision, and in order to ensure that the legacy of its founder, Nelson Mandela, is secured in perpetuity, the Nelson Mandela Children’s Fund will:

develop partnerships and initiate programs which empower and improve the well-being of children and youth;
promote the rights of children and youth through the influence of public policy and social awareness; and
sustain these initiatives through the development of a sound financial and knowledge support base.

Nelson Mandela is one of my heroes: he has meant so much to so many people in my country as well as in the rest of the world. His example is so worth following.

I pledge the following: if my blog should win anything on BlogInterviewer, (that would only be possible if you vote for me there!) every cent would be donated to the Nelson Mandela Children's Fund.

So, if you think it's a worthy cause, please look for the button and link in the column on the right, and vote for my site so a child somewhere in Africa can have his/her day and future brightened. I will leave the button up for the month of August, so please guys and gals, it's for a good cause!

***********UPDATE**************

Sarah gave me a SUPER idea with the comment she made, so I put together this little image for you. If you want, and ONLY if you want, you can add it to a post or to your site. A link back to my site is totally optional - just remember that it might help a child in need. Thanks so much in advance, and thanks to you too Sarah! :)

Waiting

2007-08-02T19:19:00.000+02:00

Sometimes when you think you're OK, and you feel OK, and everything is going really OK, something happens and you wonder where all the OK's went. Today was such a day, but looking back I think I'm handling it quite, uhm well OK! :)

I was in this really great art shop, putting back some extra organza ribbon I didn't need after all, when the woman with the two teenage girls standing at the handmade paper display called out my name in surprise. It was B, my best friend from back when we were both in college. We haven't seen each other for about 10 years but spoke on the phone a few times since then. It was quite a surprise to see her here in my town. To make a long story short, we couldn't chat long since she had an appointment within the next 15 minutes, so after a quick hello-how-are-you?-you-look-fabulous, we hugged and said goodbye.

I paid for some handmade paper, got into my car and drove home. At the first red traffic light the tears burned my eyes and no amount of blinking could stop them from rolling down my cheeks. Oh how I miss having a beautiful teenage daughter of my own. My child would've turned 12 a month from now...

When I came home I searched in my inbox for the Daily Devotional that spoke to my heart a few days ago. Here it is, and if it speaks to just one of you as much as it did to me again today, this post would've exceeded my expectations far and beyond.

He stood at the window waiting. All day he waited. Three years old and the promise of Grandma and Grandpa arriving consumed him. He could not be distracted to play or to color or to ride his bike. He was waiting.

Sometimes when God's answer seems to take too long we can find ourselves beginning to lose heart. Trust in God can waver. ("Are they REALLY coming, Mommy?") Yet God's Word touches our hearts and He tells us what to do.

"Wait on the Lord. Be of good courage and He shall strengthen your heart. Wait, I say, on the Lord" ( Psalm 27:14).

Sometimes we realize that we are not waiting on the Lord... but we are simply waiting on an answer. Waiting on an answer is so empty. It can consume us to distraction from other things God would have us do or focus on. His Word tells us to be strong, to wait on Him for strength. Wait on Him...not simply on an answer.

Lean on Him to draw courage and strength. Ask Him to point you in the direction of what He wants you to do today...and your waiting will change. It will change from anxious, distracted worry to a more productive waiting. Waiting that says, "I can trust you with this, Lord. Help me to be renewed in my strength and to focus on accomplishing what is in front of me today."

As you wait for God's intervention, what step can you take to turn your eyes to God and not just the answer you are waiting for? Pinpoint what your specific anxiety is. What responsibility is this worry keeping you from? Think of a time in the past when God came through with His answer in your life. Let His track record of yesterday strengthen your faith today.

Ask God to help you pick up the task in front of you and draw strength from Him. Ask Him for courage and a focus on Him while you wait. Ask Him to show you what He would have you do in this time of waiting. How can you be His hands and feet today?**

When is it going to be my turn Lord? Is it ever? Please don't let it be the latter! Whatever you want me to be, please help me live my life to the fullest until then...

**Written by Gail Rodgers

We're not that different after all

2007-08-01T10:51:00.000+02:00

Thanks to Daimyo Higham-Baka-Ohta (previously known as Lord Straf-Bollinger aka lots of other interesting names!) from Nourishing Obscurity, I'm walking a few inches taller this week! On Monday, Lady Macleod told me that I was featured on his site as the unsung blog for that day!

I discovered his blog through Lady Macleod, but only lurked. His blog is so worldwise and well-known, I was scared that my foot might end up in my mouth if I dared comment. And then the unimaginable happened and he actually said he loved my blog when he came to visit! I feel very honored. Thanks James - you inspire me to great hights. :)

In his comment he said that because he is a man, (and in my opinion perhaps because he had children of his own) he doesn't understand the pain of infertility. But: if you understand human pain, and we all do, then you would understand that of infertility as well. I changed the video clip I made for the International Infertility Film Festival in a very simple way, and now it can be applied to a much bigger audience too.

Click here to see the adapted video clip.

You will notice that only the first few words are different: "The pain of Infertility" was changed back to "Human Pain", as Robert Veninga wrote it in the first place.

Do yourself a favor and pop over to the IIFF blog to have a look at all the videos/films entered for this 2nd round. Don't forget to vote for your favorite! Voting ends on 10 August - and yours count too.

The day the teacher cried

2007-07-30T16:53:00.000+02:00

"Hello! My name is Daniel, I'm 12 years old, in Gr 5, and last week I made my teacher cry. "

The little boy in the picture above is in my Register class, which means that I'm acting as his (and his classmates') guardian at school. We meet every day during the first 15 minutes of the school day, and I teach them Computer Literacy once a week as well.

Last week Friday we had the track events part of our school's House Sports meeting. I was assigned to class duty to finish off some admin work that the principal wanted before the weekend.

The heap of letters that had to be signed and double checked for errors (175 of them!) kept me busy for most of the morning. Somewhere around 10am the door to my class flew open.

Daniel stood in the doorway.

"Hello Ma'am!"

"Yes Daniel, can I help you?"

"No. Just came to see if you're OK." He walked to my table and smiled.

" 'No Ma'am' Daniel, it's good manners, not just No. Remember?"

"Yes. I won't forget!"

"Yes MA'AM!" I had to laugh, he was so sincere but he still needed lots of practice.

He laughed too and looked a bit shy. Just stood there with his hands on my table.

"Daniel, would you mind doing me a favor please?"

"Huh? I mean yes!"

I was scratching in my handbag to find my purse for some money to buy fruit juice. The tuck shop was open all day for the athletics and the juice they sold was cold as ice: totally refreshing even in the middle of winter!

As I got my purse out, I explained what flavor I'd like, but before I had my money in my hand, Daniel started running out the door. I called him back but he just waved a hand at me going down the stairs at full speed.

Oh well, I thought. He'd be back in a minute or so realizing he had forgotten the money, and I went back to signing the letters.

Five minutes later I heard him running up the stairs again.

He planted a fruit juice and pie in front of me, stood back and smiled one of the most beautiful smiles I've seen in a very long time.

"Daniel!? What is this? Here's the money."

"No Ma'am! I don't want the money. It's on me today."

He looked so proud as he stood there grinning. There was no way I could refuse this gift from the bottom of his heart. I opened my arms, he walked around the table and we hugged.

"Love you ma'am," he whispered.

And that's when I cried.

Season of Hope

2007-07-27T19:14:00.001+02:00

It's that time again! And this time I'm lucky enough to be part of the International Infertility Film Festival organized by Bea. The first one happened round about the time I discovered this particular part of the blogosphere, and met the most wonderfully warm-hearted and supportive people that are part of IF-land.

I spent part of my winter vacation making this video, and couldn't have asked for a better way of relaxing - it was truly therapeutic. And now the time has come to share it with you all.

During the past few months I've really been trying hard not to fall prey to the feelings of despair and sadness that threatens to drown me every now and then. You all know how difficult that can be, but I'm taking it just one day at a time.

Anyone that experienced the heartache of Infertility first hand, know about the love-hate relationship we have with Hope. It's what carries us through the darkest days, and what hurts us most when we feel it's betrayal at the end of an unsuccessful cycle.

At a stage in my life when I'm past hoping for a pregnancy or even an adopted child, I've come to realize that hope has different forms, different dreams and different disguises. It's up to you to make it part of your life every single day, even those days when you feel like hiding from the world because the pain you experience is beyond explanation.

Dale Carnegie said: "Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all."

Whether your hope brings you a bundle of joy, or a joyful life despite realizing your biggest dream, don't give up on it!

Here is my submission for the 2nd International Infertility Film Festival:

Now go to the International Infertility Film Festival blog to see the other entries too, and don't forget to vote! ;)

Dear Victoria

2007-07-26T17:10:00.000+02:00

We need to have a serious talk.

It’s great that you’re doing so well, and that you’re so super-positive. And it’s great that on the days when you’re feeling on top of the world you want to share it with everyone out there in the hope that it might inspire them too.

One of my not-so-new-year’s resolutions was to be more lovable towards myself, even the parts of me that I don’t feel all that comfortable with. So I’ve made a conscious decision to love you too, you’re after all part of me! (FYI: that decision was made long before you pitched up uninvited – so don’t think for even a minute that there was money involved anywhere!)

But goodness me woman, you’re making my life difficult and sometimes downright miserable. How on earth do you think I’m going to be able to live up to the expectations you’ve set? You’re a very tough act to follow!

Just remember, I’m human, and I’m just me. I’m NOT going to be all smiles and giggles everyday now that you’ve moved in. The fact that we’re living in the same body does not mean that I’m not going to have any more duvet&video-days to help make me feel better, OK? And you’re NOT going to stop me when I feel like having a whole slab of dark chocolate and 3 glasses of red wine!

So let’s agree on this: I won’t kick you in the shins when I can’t find enough love in my heart to feel nice about what you have to say and you don’t have to listen to me whine on those days when I just don’t have the energy to be so positive and strong as you are. Deal?

Love
Karen

Just call me Victoria!

2007-07-21T14:54:00.000+02:00

When you're reading a book just for relaxation and enjoyment, you don't expect any sentence to grab and hold you for longer than the time it takes to read. You don't expect any paragraph to make an impact on you, so much so that you want to describe it as a lightbulb moment or any other clichéd phrase that might explain the force it struck you with.

One of my favorite authors is Nora Roberts, and I'm busy reading her "Angels Fall". It's a book for reading right before you go to sleep - relaxing but engaging (don't read it if you want to go to sleep quickly or of you're not all that tired!) and just as enjoyable as all her other books. I can't sleep if I read at least 2 pages of anything, especially after a busy day, and I had a whole week of those.

There I was the other night, already half asleep, thinking of finishing just one more page, when I came across a paragraph that literally made me sit upright and wide awake in my bed. I was more than suprised!

'I don't know what I want.' But she did, and as they walked through the cool forest, she decided just to say it. 'I want to be normal again, to stop being afraid. I want to be who I was two years ago, and I never will be. So I'm trying to find out who I'm going to be for the rest of my life.'

At first I thought: at least I'm not afraid. And I wouldn't say just two years; make that 20 years at least. Except that I wasn't normal when I was 20. I was young and naive and thought you could just dream about something and it would happen the way you wanted. We all know how silly that way of thinking is, now that we got to meet the harsh reality of Infertility face to face.

I'm still afraid though: growing old alone with no husband (some days that isn't too bad a thought! *grin*) and no kids is not quite how I want my life story to read. The "no kids" are in a way easier to get around than the other issue right now, but seeing that I haven't quite gotten my mind around that quite yet, let's leave it for another post and another day.

"So I'm trying to find out who I'm going to be for the rest of my life."

That was the sentence that actually gripped me and shook me awake. This is what this blog is all about, the bottom line. The line just below: "Coming to terms with the reality of the effects of Infertility on my life."

And you know what? It's scary and sad and exhilirating all at once.

Here I am: a 40 year young woman with the world at her feet. OK, the world without children of her own, but seeing that that option has been scratched from the itinerary, there are quite a few others that suddenly opens up!

Reading that paragraph again I will totally understand if you think I've gone totally bonkers and that it sounds just a little bit too optimistic to be true. You all know that no matter who you are, the pain of Infertility does not hide in your pockets or the holes in your buttons so that you can discard it as easily as you can throw a dirty shirt in the laundry bin at the end of the day.

But then you'd understand too that there comes a time when you have to say: "Enough." Enough of the wanting, the yearning, the crying, the wishing it was different. I'm there now. I've had enough of banging my head and my heart against a closed door, crying for something I'm obviously not going to get in this lifetime.

How long will it take for me to go on to the next step and actually do something constructive to change my life? I don't know. I'm not going to worry about that. Not now.

I've wanted to be a mother since forever. I'll always want to be one. But it's time to close that book and start plotting the next one. I can imagine it: a fresh, clean book with bright, blank pages just begging to be written! It won't do to start writing without doing enough research, to find out exactly what I want on these sparkling new pages. So today I'll start dreaming up my new itinerary. That new mental map needs some plotting too!

I can choose to view it as being defeated, or as changing my strategy. Either choose to be a victim, or to be victorious. Right now, it's a very easy choice!

All my love

Victoria

Busy, busy, busy!

2007-07-17T19:19:00.000+02:00

Life got busier with a bang yesterday when schools re-opened, so I won't be able to post as often as during the past month. My blog-hopping time has also been cut down to a few minutes a day unfortunetaly! But I promise to say come say "Hi!" and leave a comment at least twice a week. :)

Had the mother of all migraines last night and today - felt extremely sorry for myself when not even the migraine cocktail my sister brought me just after sunrise this morning took the pain away. My guardian angels worked overtime to get me to the pharmacy and back, but I'm happy to report that I'm my old self again.

Be good and don't misbehave too much while I'm getting back into routine!

The Virtual World Tour

2007-07-15T10:25:00.000+02:00

This is my contribution to the Virtual World Tour organized by the Impatient Patient. Don't forget to visit all the other blogs participating in this exciting event!

I live in Pretoria, South Africa: welcome to my part of the world! :)

Click here for My Town 1 Slideshow

Click here for My Town 2 Slideshow

Make your own Smilebox

If any of the links above is problematic, please "Click HERE" to visit my pictures.

50th post

2007-07-14T15:45:00.000+02:00

This is my 50th post, and the perfect way to celebrate it is to share this movie I found on Char's blog. It's so moving and so beautiful. I had no words, I just cried. Char called it "So you can understand too"...

When I started this blog I was unbelievably depressed. The only way out for me was to write about the pain I felt. It's not all gone, but I've learned to handle it better. And slowly but surely I'm growing more positive and making plans for a brilliant future for myself.

Some days I felt that I really didn't belong in the Infertility community. I'm the perfect example of what none of you ever want to end up like: childless and husbandless too - all because of Infertility. Who would ever want to read anything I said? But you came, and you commented, and you made me laugh and cry and made me feel so special because you thought what I wrote meant something to you too!

Thanks to you all for your wonderful, encouraging and uplifting comments over the past few months. Thanks too for your blogs, for saying things in ways that will never be able to. The friends I've made through this blog are warming my heart more than I ever thought possible. It's great to know that there are women out there in the world that think and feel exactly the same as I do.

Homework!

2007-07-14T12:28:00.000+02:00

Lady Macleod instructed me to indulge myself a bit in her comment on my previous post. So in order not to act like a loopy wench (I love this description! Not enough to be one though *grin*) or a silly bugger, I ~~jumped at the opportunity~~ gave in and did exactly what I was told to do.

1. I bought a bunch of roses - incredibly expensive in the middle of our winter, but worth every petal!

2. I ordered this book. Saw a comment about it on Katie's blog and I just knew I had to read it. "For every woman who ever wanted to have a child - and didn't" - sounds like it fits my description to a T.

3. I bought myself a small slab of Lindt too, the "Orange Intense" dark chocolate... hmmm! Now that's what I call indulgence!

Are you satisfied Lady Macleod? :) I loved the homework, but I'll have to take on a second job soon because I can get seriously addicted to this!

PS: There is a bottle of Nederburg Cabernet Sauvignon in my wine rack, but I'll share that with someone special rather than drinking it alone. :)

***UPDATE***

Some other indulgence that proved to be very therapeutic:

I just love this cat of mine!

Surviving my mental map

2007-07-13T15:11:00.000+02:00

Schatzi has a post about a book she read called D.eep S.urvival, by L.aurence G.onzales.

The following paragraph made me stop, read it again, think and rethink it.

"Survivors are those who learn to adapt their mental map to the reality around them. Who update their mental model when the environment around them changes. I find this specifically applicable to infertility. My initial mental model of my life, and my mental model of how my infertility treatments would go became outdated. It took me a while, but I am in the process of updating my mental map to better fit the reality around me. And as a result, I am happier (akin to survival in the wilderness)."

Yesterday morning I discussed the whole mental mapping argument with a great friend of mine, one I value as a mentor in my life. He said that so often we allow our lives to be defined by die mental maps we ASSUME we were “issued” with at birth. He agreed that it’s virtually impossible for us to distinguish between what we were programmed to expect as part of our life, and what we really want. But that is a whole other topic.

The important realization I had was that no matter what map I was conditioned with, I have the power to change it. My life seemed utterly and disastrously empty without the prospect of a child of my own. It’s as if I used my map, and when I reached the co-ordinates that was programmed into my mental GPS, and it didn’t bring me to the surroundings I expected when I started the journey, life just shattered around me.

Without realizing it, I have been updating and redesigning my mental map since I started to blog. It’s as if by putting my feelings and emotions into words, and receiving feedback from people in similar (and different!) situations than me, the whole process started to happen without being named.

I've been working on my new mental map without being aware that I was actually redefining who I am. I’m laying new tracks to follow, new roads to travel by and new destinations to dream about. Some days I will lose sight of where I’m going to, and sit down on the side of the road with my head in my hands crying for having to shift my visions for the future.

Being a survivor wasn’t the badge I wanted for myself, but now that I’m starting to realize that I can wear it with pride, I’m working hard at changing my attitude towards it.

I honestly don’t feel like a survivor today. My bed seems like a great option since I’m in a hide-from-the-world mood. Maybe it’s because I’ve tried too hard during the past few weeks to be positive and hopeful and concentrate on my blessings, surpressing the feeling of sadness that was there, just below the surface. Maybe it’s because my mom isn’t doing so well lately and the whole cancer thing is taking its toll on my dad. And maybe it’s just because my holiday is over and Monday is back to school time.

Whatever it may be, today is not the worst one I’ve had and tomorrow is a fresh, bright new day!

A Little Pink Rosebud

2007-07-11T23:40:00.000+02:00

She put the little pink rosebud in my hand, smiled at me and pulled out of the driveway.

Spring was in the air and it was just another ordinary Saturday morning for the rest of the world. It was quiet in the car. My thoughts were fixed on the vial lying snug between my breasts.

It was CD14, the second of our 3 day IUI treatment series. I was trying not to be disappointed that it was my mom driving me to the doctor's office and not J. He and Dad had an early golf game and tee-off time was 5 minutes before the time of my appointment.

"Don't worry, my love. He went with you yesterday, and he'll be there again tomorrow. And you're in his thoughts all the time."

I smiled in answer and blinked away the tears. We're so positive this time: everything has been working out excellently during the cycle so far. So much better than with IUI #1.

She stopped in front of the clinic, turned to me and took my hands.

"I think I am the luckiest woman in the world!"

Ok Mom, I'll wait silently for your explanation before I let out the "Gmph" I'm feeling. Five years of TTC, one miscarriage, more tests than we cared for, one failed IUI, and you're feeling lucky?

"Tell me about one other grandma that is lucky enough to be able to tell her grandchild: 'I was there with your mommy when you were made!'"

I burst out laughing despite the apprehension and stress that was threatening to choke me.

"Mom, that's going to need some serious explanation, and you'll just have me blushing blood red!"

"That's my girl! Now you keep that smile on your face and in your heart. Let's go inside. Cuddle that little rose in your hand all the time, think positive, loving thoughts, and nine months from now you'll have your own little rosebud in your arms."

*********************************************

Well, by now you all know IUI #2 didn't work either, but this wonderful memory has stayed with me ever since. Ten years might have clouded my recollection of the specific words that was spoken, but when I close my eyes and think back, that is what I remember.

My mom has been the most amazing, supportive, understanding and encouraging presence in my life since this IF journey started. She cried with me, she laughed with me, and she just held me when words failed her.

Dankie Mamma, vir alles! Ek's baie lief vir ma...
(Thanks Mom, for everything! I love you very much...)

Stupid Infertility Comments Quiz

2007-07-10T14:07:00.000+02:00

2nd post today... don't miss the first one, so scroll down and read before you go check out this great quiz!

While I was ~~poking around at those dogs~~ bloghopping this morning I came across Char's blog. The fact that she lives in South Africa and blogs about Infertility made me like her right away, but when I read one of her recent posts called "Sticks and Stones", I just HAD to tell you guys about it too.

There is always a lot of talk in IF-land about the never-ending thoughtless comments people make when they try to be helpful. Char made a quiz about your reactions towards these comments and I LOVED it.

Here is Char's Quiz

Appropriate responses to stupid infertility comments

Why don't you just adopt?

Create your own quiz, poll or survey at Quibblo.com

Poking @ sleeping dogs

2007-07-10T13:17:00.000+02:00

You'd think if I found something working great for me, I'd let sleeping dogs lie and get on with life. Ha! Think again.

I just had to go poke about testing the strength of my latest "accomplishment". No, I haven't broken down in tears wondering what on earth possessed me to write my previous post. I'm still there, but I'm in the process of understanding it better. (GREAT way of saying it's not everything I thought it was huh?)

Furrow said it so well: "I think I have moments of it, but I'm still working toward having it as a prolonged state of being." Can I change my mind from actually "being there" to be more like what she said? Its going to be difficult to be all smiling and feeling content Every. Single. Day.

Its not that I'm backtracking here, please don't misunderstand me. I now know that I experienced all the different emotions one has to go through over time when you're grieving. So let's do this properly:

Shock: Check
Denial : Check
Anger : Check

Depression : Check

Testing: Check

Acceptance : Check

(Always wanted to do that "CHECK"-thingy!)

The thing is this: Its a cycle. You won't experience just one episode of anger, then move on to the bargaining stage and think you won't ever again be VERY angry about this shitty hand you've been dealt. And it's so easy to deny the obvious because sometimes it's just too hard to face facts.

I don't think that going back to a certain stage in this array of emotions, for example Bargaining, means that you'll have to go through the Depression stage as well. It's up to how you choose to think and feel up to a certain extent. Sometimes its just too difficult to put up a brave face, smile to the world while you're trying not to acknowledge the signs of the black dog scratching on the back door to be let in again.

While I was reading up about these stages, I found an article about "The Positive Change Cycle". This paragraph, called "Completion", made me think: "Eventually, things reach a relatively steady platform of realistic and workable action. The person is probably happier than they were before the change started and, with their realistic vision, have the potential to reach giddier heights of happiness as they achieve more of their potential."

OK. I'm really sceptic about those "giddier heights" but at least when I get this "OooooHI'mSlippingFromThisHopefullSmilingSituation!" I know I'm not on my way to the looney bin.

Zee's comment made me realize I didn't mention a very important fact. "...it's also leaving yourself open to change, should your heart or your circumstances lead you elsewhere." That is SO much part of this whole issue; I can't believe I didn't think of writing it down. In my heart of hearts I really do hope that my circumstances would lead me elsewhere (read: to a family of my own, hubby and kids included even if they come ready-made!)

So yes, I do realize the acceptance I'm feeling at the moment will not be there as strong as it is forever. Maybe it won't even last till tomorrow. But at least I know its in my heart somewhere, and most importantly: in my head too. I can go there again in time, should I slip back and start testing the reality of Infertility in my life. After all, isn't that what hope is all about?

Thank you Annie Leibovitch!

2007-07-07T15:50:00.000+02:00

I’m in a very introspective mood lately. The past week had my emotions ranging between desperation and elation. The main reason for me going inside my head to do some research and organizing has just about everything to do with “being 40+, single, and still wanting a baby”.

After a week of deliberation between me, myself and I, having had some input from friends, my sisters and my cat, (with a knowing smile as only comment from my mom) I can safely say that I survived another round of this “What if?” game.

The question: “What would you do if you knew you’d have a baby this time next year?”

What the question doesn’t say about the ground rules is this:

There has to be a daddy on the scene as a permanent, loving fixture. No single parent issues for me, I’m really not that brave!
There has to be 2 lines on the POAS thingy within the first 3 months. No struggling to get pregnant this time around. (Yeah right! And the moon is made of cream cheese.)

So… what would I do? Say YES PLEASE! And start looking around for Superman to fly in through the clouds?

No. I don’t think so.

I’m at that safe spot where I’m comfortable enough with what I have AND with what I don’t have. Right now, right here.

“You’re out of your mind woman!” Bet that’s what a few of you think but keep to yourselves huh? Well, for a very long time that would’ve been my sentiments exactly.

And that is precisely what caused havoc in my mind and heart lately.

How on earth could I THINK of saying no to everything I’ve so desperately wanted for so many years? Any woman struggling with Infertility would give just about anything to have that choice and she would kill to be able to say YES! YES! YES! (Just in case her answer wasn’t heard with the first YES!)

I’ve paid a very high price to be able to say: “I’m OK without children and a husband for the moment. Thank you.”

Maybe it’s a side-effect from trying to focus on my blessings in stead of being heart broken about my empty womb and my empty bed. But it’s a good side-effect. The side-effects of this side-effect are very welcome:

A calmness of soul I never expected.
Acceptance without hopelessness.
That feeling of taking control of my own destiny. I’m in charge now, not the obsessions I had.

One of the things that made my throat constrict with panic was the idea I had that 40 is the cut-off date for trying to get pregnant.

Forget it: you’re too old. It’s too dangerous; your body won’t be strong enough. What about the things that could be wrong with the baby? Why would you want to be the 55+ parent of a teenager? Do you really want to do that to yourself and a child?

Just like numerous times before, when I was looking for answers, they came from just about everywhere. An interview with Annie Leibovitch on Oprah (that I would’ve missed if a friend didn’t phone to tell me) was the major turning point this week. I googled (of course!) and found this site for mom's over 40.

Right now I’m in a safe and comfortable place, being single and child-free. I know that if/when I change my mind, science and technology would be able to help me if I wanted to become a parent. Right now I don’t want to think what would happen if it didn’t work, but I’ll leave that for the future.

Call it keeping the back door open if you want, but I’ll keep on hoping and believing since it suits me to do just that, for the moment.

A quick quote

2007-07-04T13:58:00.000+02:00

Even though I'm thoroughly enjoying the middle week of our Winter School holiday, I'm working hard on a project for my cousin, and enjoying that immensely! So that is my excuse for posting a bit less the past few days. :)

Found this quote yesterday, and its so appropriate for so many of us. Its also fitting in very well with my state of mind lately...

"When you give up hoping and dreaming, you give up living."
- Jan Andersen

It might just be a great substitute for the quote on my header, things are looking more positive over here every day! :)

The Ugly Toe Club

2007-07-01T11:14:00.000+02:00

Disclaimer: This post has almost nothing to do with IF, but we can make a plan!

The other day Aunt Sassy ran around her house in a hurry. (That’s her story, and she’s sticking to it!) To make matters even worse, she rounded a corner or something and didn’t get her poor little toe out of the way fast enough. It got all swollen, red & purple and hurt like hell, and yup! She broke it.

But like all other members of the Ugly Toe Club she’s a toughy! Melissa was the first to welcome her and now we’re making it official.

Calling all Ugly Toe club members: no more hiding your ~~crooked~~ pretty feet in dainty Jimmy Choo’s or comfy crocs. (Eat your heart out GF!)

Its rollcall time!

If you have a crooked toe, snap it and show us! Whether you broke it when you tried to get your foot in or out of a stirrup or when you rounded the ultrasound machine. You might’ve bumped it into the bathroomdoor on your way to do the POAS thingy, or you misjudged the hardness of the corner of the bath when DH helped you with an IM and the PIO proved to be more painfull than you remembered and you kicked…

Whatever the way you got a crooked toe, even if (like me!) you cannot for the life of you remember how it got there, get into it and share it with your blogosphere buddies!

And just to show you I’m not scared, here is what qualified me for the Ugly Toe Club! Or in true IF fashion: the UTC (we just love our acronyms!)

If you’re reading here, consider yourself tagged to reveal your qualifying toe to the world.

Sassy my dear… I dare you!

PS: If you don’t have a crooked toe, and want to show us your feet too, go ahead!

Your time is coming...

2007-06-30T09:22:00.001+02:00

Don't be late!

( in the words of Take That singing "Shine")

Don't know what I'm talking about? It's the lyrics of a song! The tune is quite catchy, and it wasn't till a few days ago that the lyrics got hold of me. I just know these guys are not singing about TTC and IF, but if you go through the lyrics it is sooooo apropriate in our situation.

For those of you cycling, in the middle of the 2ww, thinking about/waiting for adoption, or waiting for life without children to start making sense, or just in limbo somewhere: this is for you!

You, you're such a big star to me
You're everything I wanna be
But you're stuck in a hole and I want you to get out
I don't know what there is to see
But I know it's time for you to leave
We're all just pushing along
Trying to figure it out, out, out.

All your anticipation pulls you down
When you can have it all, you can have it all.

So come on, so come on, get it on
Don't know what you're waiting for
Your time is coming don't be late, hey hey
So come on
See the light on your face
Let it shine
Just let it shine
Let it shine

Stop(stop)being so hard on yourself
It's not good for your health
I know that you can change
So clear your head and come around
You only have to open your eyes
You might just get a big surprise
And it may feel good and you might want to smile, smile, smile.

Don't you let your demons pull you down
'Cause you can have it all, you can have it all.

So come on, So come on, get it on

Get the rest of the lyrics *HERE*

The Golden Thread

2007-06-27T11:01:00.001+02:00

I've visited so many new blogs during the past week or so, mainly thanks to Mel's Commentathon and the Great Cake Day. It was great fun "meeting" new people; sometimes the stories were painful, sometimes uplifting, and sometimes downright heartbreaking.

Later, when I thought back to everything I read, the people and their stories, I realized that Infertility wasn't the main thing binding all of us together. It's the starting point, yes, but it's not what is keeping us in this blogosphere of ours.

HOPE is the golden thread.

Hope is what makes us come back despite our pain. Hope is what motivates us to write about all the obstacles on our road to becoming parents. Hope is what makes us stay, even though our journey has ended in the eyes of the world. Giving hope to those still standing on the platform is what makes us stay if we're lucky enough to have a warm little bundle in our arms.

To all of you with hope in your hearts, no matter how faint a flicker it might be:

"Within your heart, keep one still,
secret spot where dreams may grow."

Louise Driscoll

Mel from Stirrup Queens and Sperm Jester wrote a post about the common thread that binds us all. Don't miss it!

Memories

2007-06-26T09:49:00.001+02:00

Aunt Sassy started this. No, actually she just made me go get the box down from it's hiding place high up in the back of my closet, carefully obscured by lots of linen I rarely use. I've been thinking of that box and it's contents for a few days now.

So I took it down, opened it up carefully, and took out the contents one by one. My cat jumped on the bed to come and inspect the unknown items up closer. She can't resist a cardboard box. A few sniffs when I laid them out on the bed, and then she flopped down on one of my pillows to view things from a safe distance.

I expected a tear or two, perhaps even a flood of them. But I was quite strong and calm actually. They were exactly as I remembered them. Some even more beautiful. Still so soft and cuddly. They still smelled faintly of the baby-soft I rinsed them in to get rid of the shop smell.

Click-click. Some people might think me slightly (ok a bit more: totally?) crazy and wacko, taking pictures of baby clothes, most of them bought more than 13 years ago. None of them have been worn. Ever. The receiving blankets I bought are still in their plastic covers, price tags on. The cloth nappies for my shoulder after a feeding, or just to wipe a little cheek, super-soft and silent at the bottom of the box.

Yes, I still have every single item I bought for our baby when I was pregnant in 1995. It was just for 8 short weeks, but it was the first time, who would not buy something? The first gifts we received just after we told everyone about the first grandchild in the family that was on its way are in there too. Treasured amongst enough naphthalene to scare away armies of insects to preserve it for when the dream becomes reality. (Note the present tense? Oh my...)

This was the first toy I bought for our baby.
I was 5 weeks pregnant at the time.

This little outfit was just too beautiful not to buy.
It's still one of the most beautiful set of baby clothes I've come across.
Below is another version in the same series, just as irresistable!

My mom gave me these little booties.
You think if I lasted through all of this today without a tear so far, they would stay away. Surprise. You're not so strong after all Ms. O...

The Great Cake Day

2007-06-25T16:56:00.000+02:00

I so wanted to bake my own cake, decorate it, take a photo and brag about it here. But now I can safely say I know of a great place to shop for really tasty cakes! And it's just around the corner. :)

This is my contribution to the Great Cake day celebration started by Melissa. For those of you who don't know about it already, we're celebrating anything we feel like today, be it just to be alive, making it through the Commentathon without too may blistered fingers, or because we had just one too many BFN's. Infertility is no joke, but being part of this community for the past few months has been wonderful!

The inspiration, motivation, snorts & giggles and encouragement I found on your blogs and which has become part of my daily fix & routine has meant the world to me. Here's to you, all my blog readers, not just those that are part of the IF community.

Patience, this is just for you! Anyone else for a big glass of red wine? Hope you enjoyed your visited down here in South Africa - this is turning out to be a journey around the world!

Rated Needs

2007-06-23T12:33:00.000+02:00

Firstly, thanks for all you comments on my blog the past few days, especially the one about my mom and dad. I showed them the post and they were overwhelmed by what I said, and more so about your comments!

Many of the blogs I visited today had the following link and I thought it would be fun to see what my results would be.

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

breast (2x)
shit (1x)

Hmmmm. They are terribly strict with their ratings huh?

Secondly I succumbed and did the "needs" thingy on Google. My name is so common and there are gazillion other Karen's who already posted this game on their blogs, so I decided to dig deeper and use only hits not from blogs. It turned out to be a bit more interesting!

Here is the list:

Karen needs support in reaching her goal. (I have a few goals...)
Karen needs something to boost her self esteem. (Oh yeah?)
KAREN NEEDS A MAN. (I'm not kidding you, it was there in caps!)
Karen needs to lose 25lbs. (It's actually a bit more but I'd be happy with 25.)
Karen needs new haircut to make her look glamorous. (I can live with being glamerous any day!)
Karen needs a strong man. We not be able to find that kind of man through us. Karen says she has tried all the online dating services. (Now you're making me sound desperate. And no I have NOT tried all those services!)
Karen needs a flight over Kenya. (Now THAT sounds great!)
Karen needs to write a lot faster to satisfy us fans who are ready to gobble up her books. (Aaaaw thanks you guys! Whoever wrote that (IF it was about me) lotsa cudos to you!)
Karen needs to get hit by a car or something. (Hmmmmmm)
Karen needs to learn the Fox Trot so she doesn't embarrass herself at her wedding. (OK now enough of this, what does google know that I don't?)
Karen needs to drink less alcohol and more water. (No I don't! 3 liters is enough already. Water that is if you wondered!)
Karen needs to cheer up and chill out about Britney Spears. (This one had me laughing out loud!)

Yes I know I only had to post 10, but the more I looked the better they got! :)

I followed a link (#2 in the list) and found the following. It's hilarious!

*****UPDATE*****

After I read Aunt Sassy's comment I read the above mentioned link again, and have to agree: it's funny only at first, when I looked for something connected to me. Reading between the lines, you see more about the hurt that woman might've had in her life too...

The next question

2007-06-22T17:17:00.000+02:00

"I gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which I must stop and look fear in the face...I say to myself, I've lived through this and can take the next thing that comes along." Eleanor Roosevelt

If I could measure all the tears, the heartache and suffering it took me to be able to read the above without getting mad, feeling anger at the unfairness of it all bubbling up in me, I would be the proud owner of a Nobel prize for something or other.

When I read it today, I felt a quiet determination. No matter how many scars it left me with, Infertility will NOT beat me. It might've won a battle or ten in the past, but I am going to win this war. And I don't need children to be the crowned champion.

There were times when I felt so rebellious: I don't WANT to grow stronger, or have more courage or confidence, I just want a baby!

Lately, quiet acceptance replaced the anger. The pain is not so sharp anymore, and I can talk about my Infertility much easier than in the past. This quiet acceptance does NOT mean I'm going to take this lying down.

I'm not going to get mad anymore. I'm going to get even.

How? Well that's the next question!

Rainbows & Bluebirds

2007-06-21T17:25:00.000+02:00

This song has been playing in my head for a few days now. You know it well, and perhaps some of you see it as an IF anthem of sorts. Here it is:

Over The Rainbow

Somewhere over the rainbow

Way up high

There's a land that I heard of

Once in a lullaby

Somewhere over the rainbow

Skies are blue

And the dreams that you dare to dream

Really do come true

Some day I'll wish upon a star

And wake up where the clouds are far behind me

Where troubles melt like lemondrops

Away above the chimney tops

That's where you'll find me

If happy little bluebirds fly

Beyond the rainbow

Why, oh why can't I?

It has me thinking: we all know the story about the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. This song says it's somewhere over the rainbow.

My question is this: Where is that wicked, wicked witch that moved the gold without telling us?

My awesome dad

2007-06-20T11:36:00.000+02:00

Both my parents are totally out of this world, but since it was Fathersday a few days ago, I decided to dedicate the topic to my father today.

My mom had breast cancer 9½ years ago. She was lucky and they caught it early enough for her not to have a mastectomy. Her lymph nodes were removed; she had chemo and radiation therapy and went into remission. 5 years later the nightmare returned to our family: my sister L. was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 32. (I'll tell you more about her struggle in a different post.) For 4½ years everything went hunky-dory.

On Valentinesday this year the top part of my mother's right lung was removed due to a tumour that turned out to be cancer. We were devastated. She took a long time to recover from the operation, much longer than we anticipated. It was terrible to see my active, always-on-the-go mom struggling for breath after getting up from her chair.

During the past 9 years she lost 3 very dear friends to cancer. She was the one who took them to fit their wigs, who pushed them in their wheelchairs through the shopping malls so they could get out a bit. She picked up their medicine from the pharmacy and sat by their beds encouraging them through their struggle.

My mom is like a ray of sunshine wherever she goes. Always smiling, always positive and always seeing the bright side of life. For a while after her operation she had a difficult time being her sunny self, understandably so.

During her first struggle with cancer years ago, she was fortunate enough to keep her hair. The oncologist told her it's going to be a different story this time around. She needs 18 chemotherapy treatments, spaced out during a period of 6 months. It's almost certain she'll need a wig.

My dad took her to find a perfect match so it could be ready when her hair starts falling out. He joked about it, asking her to please choose a reddish wig because even though he loves her light brown/greyish hair, he always thought red-heads looked hot! He has been so encouraging about it - trying to make light of a very sensitive issue.

About 2 weeks ago my mom's hair finally started to fall out. Even though we knew it was coming, it was a bit shocking. It didn't happen last time, maybe this time it wouldn't either... No such luck. She told us how she felt when she combed her hair, or washed it, and I can just image the sickening reality when she woke up in the morning to find lots of hair on her pillow.

Her scalp became incredibly sensitive a week or so ago, and she joked and said it was the remaining hair, digging in their roots and biting into her skin to keep from falling out. It was time for the last of them to go. Rather shave it off than to wait for them to fall out whenever they felt like it, prolonging the inevitable.

My dad made a deal with her: he'll shave her head if she shaved his first. His argument: "We're in this thing together. I'll get rid of my hair to show you that we'll do this together till we beat this monster."

Maybe men doesn't feel about their hair the same way women do. And maybe there are thousands of men in the world who did the same thing for their wives. But this is MY dad, doing it for MY mom, and I think it is totally awesome!

Since Monday evening I'm the incredibly lucky child of two bald parents - more in love than I've ever seen them before!

My parents rock!

Tertia's Survival Kit

2007-06-19T13:36:00.000+02:00

Yesterday I came across this post on Tertia's blog. I loved it so much I just HAVE to tell more people about it! The only thing I'd like to add to it is the ability to be able to order one for all the BFN's I've had in the past when it wasn't "available" yet!

These Survival Kits are for people who just received a negative result on an infertility cycle. Here is a sample from her post. Please visit her blog to read the rest of it - it's really great!

The BFN Survival Kit would include:

1x Bottle of the best wine around. Decadent, expensive wine because ‘f. that, this infertility shit just cost me an arm and a leg and I deserve to drink good damn wine’.
1x platter of sushi, because you just spent the last month not eating it, just in case.
1x hamper of the softest cheese you can find (as above)
1x sinfully huge box of chocolates. NOT FOR SHARING.
A flask of heavily caffeinated coffee.
1x large packet of chips (MSG and preservatives a bonus). With or without dip.
1x box of tissues.
A box of smokes. Even if you don’t smoke.
A voucher for a massage.
2x DVD’s to watch while drinking the wine and eating the chocolate. Neither of them have any children or pregnant women in them, at all.
2x pain pills – one for the period pains (oh thank you for the reminder) and one for the morning after the bottle of wine.
1x sleeping pill so that you can go to sleep and not have to think about the 20k that just went down the drain. Literally.

I need at least one of these Survival kits ASAP - even though my last BFN was over 9 years ago!

PS: My mom will read this post some or other time, and since she does not tolerate certain words, I had to edit out a spiced word here or there - my sincerest apologies Tertia! Go on, visit Too Close for the unedited version - it's great stuff!

Checkers anyone?

2007-06-18T11:48:00.000+02:00

No school today, so I'm blog-hopping and doing my part in the Commentathon. I came across My Reality's post about "Everything is changing", and suddenly saw myself in a whole different way.

She said: "I want to know when my everything will change. I want to know when I can move forward with my life plans. I don't want everything else to change and leave me behind."

I'm somewhat ashamed to say that I've stopped wondering about when MY everything will change. It shocked me when I realized that. Am I getting complacent with my situation or is this how it feels to be coming to terms with the hand life has dealt me? I'd rather believe the latter please!

There was a time when I ran like crazy to try and catch up. I fell flat on my face most of the time, but I got up and ran again. I didn't want to stay behind but I got tired of the chase. The gap between me and the people in front of me grew bigger and bigger.

So I stopped.

I stopped running, TTC, trying to win my husband back, trying to tell myself I will fall in love again and that things will get better soon.

Now I'm just sitting at the side of the road watching the rest of the world go by: I've stopped running because I won't ever catch up.

*************************************

Don't get me wrong here: I haven't given up on life. I've stopped running the race of trying to live the "normal life" I've dreamed about: the life of being married and having babies that grow up into children and then into adults that would in turn give me grandbabies.

It's time to find something different to do: running is NOT for me.

Anyone for a game of checkers?

What would you do?

2007-06-17T21:47:00.000+02:00

The past few days I’ve been talking to myself a lot. Not out loud where other people could hear and think me mentally slightly off, just quietly inside my head. The conversation went something like this:

Me: “You’ve got to stop sitting here with limp arms, just staring into space.”

Myself: “Leave me alone. Go bother someone else.”

Me: “Oh please, feeling sorry for myself again? It’s getting really boring you know!”

Myself: “Ok, Miss GoodyTwoShoes, any bright ideas today?”

Me: “Uhm. Well… mmmm.”

Myself: “Aha! Got you! Now take your smile and turn out the light before you shut the door.”

I: “Stop it you two! It’s enough that we’re here talking to ourselves! Make a plan and make it fast; straight-jacket white is NOT my favorite color!”

So the three of us started reading and found this question:

"What would you attempt to do
if you knew you could not fail?"

And reading a bit more, we came across this quote:

"While one hesitates
because he feels inferior,
the other is busy making mistakes
and becoming superior."
Henry C. Link

We’re a bit scared of starting something and failing miserably. Again. Like with the TTC phase a few years ago. Trying to save the marriage. A few other things we’d rather not mention…

The processes in my mind are still working on the answer. There are a lot of choices I’m contemplating. I’m still looking for that ONE THING that would be the ultimate for me to do now. I still have to learn to think of failure as "just-not-yet", because final failure only happens if you don’t get back up to try again. You have to get up and get going again. Every single time.

I’m still thinking about my answer, but do YOU know what you’d do if you knew you could not fail?

The Buttered Cat

2007-06-16T09:19:00.001+02:00

I started a new blog. No, I'm not tired of this one, I just thought I'd keep this one Infertility related, and about my growth on the road to total acceptance.

If you feel like reading something different, please visit "The Buttered Cat". See you there!

Dear Fairy Godmother, I have a request!

2007-06-11T16:05:00.000+02:00

Commenting on a recent post of mine, Pamela Jeanne asked me: “With all you've been through, what are the most important traits for you in a mate?”

At first I thought it a difficult question. Why? Because I wouldn’t want to limit my choices OR your understanding of what kind of man I would like to fall in love with some day. But by limiting my choices I make it so much easier to find him. It might take a bit longer, but it’s so worth it in the end!

I fell in love with J when I was 20 years old. Being 3 months my junior, he was still 19 at the time. Looking back it was a head-over-heels thing that changed into something we both took for granted as the years went by. Getting used to each other so much so that we couldn’t imagine a world without the other person. We got married the year we turned 25 just because it was the next natural step, NOT because we were still in love. We never worked hard on our communication skills. We actually never discussed anything deeper than why he was unhappy about everything that went wrong on the golf course that particular day.

That’s the first and most important trait in a future mate and relationship: we simply HAVE to be able to communicate in a very special, deeply intimate and open way. I believe that if you’re able to discuss intensely personal subjects with your partner, there wouldn’t be much time and place left for misunderstandings and drifting apart.

My favorite writer of all times, Anaïs Nin helped me out with two of her quotes:

“I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.”

“I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be subtly submissive. I don’t mind standing on my own feet, I do not want to cling, I want to be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, loved and possessed."

The second quote is basically the same as her original one, but I modified it a bit to fit in with what I want.

But then! One other very important thing: (she said tongue-in-cheek-trying-to-look-very-serious) my man simply has to be taller than me. I don’t ever want to let go of this dream I had since forever: standing on tip-toes to kiss my man goodnight. That eliminates about half the men on earth (Sorry Tom Cruise – you’re one of them!) because at 1.74m (5’8”) I’m falling into the group of women that are seen as taller than average.

One other thingy: he must preferably not have the looks of Georgeous Mr. Clooney. Sharing is a very honourable trait, but I don’t like sharing my toys! *grin*

I’d rather be alone for another 7 years than to settle for less than what is important to me, just because I want to share my life with someone. The price you pay is just too high to be worth it.

And until that special man comes along, I’ll be living and loving and sailing the seven seas! (OK, make that dreaming of sailing the seven seas - its just not possible on a teacher's salary!)

Heart vs Spirit

2007-06-09T09:14:00.000+02:00

It amazes me how messages of affirmation keeps popping up, dropping into my lap. Before I'm starting to sound a little bit daft, let me explain.

During the days following my post about praying, the daily quotes I received via email, all seemed to be about praying, and not losing hope or faith. This is one example from a quote by Frederick Buechner: "Faith is not being sure where you’re going, but going anyway. A journey without maps." It wasn't the only quote or article that came my way during the days that followed. They kept appearing, as if they were strengthening each other's message, building it up into an even stronger voice. And I was listening in wonder.

I believe that if you open yourself up to experience life, you will attract to your soul the answers that you are seeking.

The past few days I've been motivating myself towards thinking less about where I come from, the fight with Inferzilla, the scars it left, and more about where I'm going to. And as it happened so frequently in the past, a positive affirmation arrived through my inbox:

"When the heart grieves over what it has lost, the spirit rejoices over what it has left." Sufi epigram

I know there will be days in future when the painfull longing in my heart weighs heavier than the growing light in my soul. But I will be patient with myself on those days. I'm waking up and the sun is shining.

My spirit is winning slowly but surely.

Happiness is...

2007-06-08T17:16:00.000+02:00

I don’t even want to downplay it: today is a wonderful day!

No, nothing spectacular happened. I’m not in love or even just a little bit infatuated. No windfall like finding a lost R100 note or winning the UK lotto.

It’s a great day because I can truly say that the mist is nowhere to be seen. I don’t even want to blog about IF.

And that’s making me feel a little bit panicky.

What on earth am I going to blog about if not IF? That’s the one thing that I’ve experienced thoroughly. I’ve lived it, got the t-shirt and the rest of it too.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not making light of the experience. I’m also not so naïve as to think that I won’t ever want to blog about it again. Coping with it is a life-style adjustment, (goodness me, what an understatement!) and then it becomes your life-style.

Today is the first day in a very long time that I want to blog about something uplifting and light and funny. And it feels so good!

Happiness is… being me today!

PS: Lady Macleod’s blog helped widened the smile on my face and in my heart today. Go read her soon-to-be-made-into-a-movie-straight-from-the-bestsellerslist-if-I-get-my-way rendition about her Moroccan adventure, and don’t forget to vote for her on Blogpower. (Category 3!)

Surfing the waves

2007-06-07T13:33:00.000+02:00

Most of the people in my life, family and friends, don’t know about this blog. My sisters know about its existence, but I told them I’d share it with them once I’m ready. Besides, they have more than enough struggles on their separate plates at the moment, to be burdened with the things in my life that I’m trying to come to terms with. I don’t know if I want to tell anyone else. Maybe some day, maybe never.

Deep in my mind I had this notion that I would send them my blog address once I’ve arrived at the place where I could assure them: “I’ve been through some seriously rough times, but I’ve written all I could about my sorrow and longing, and now I’m OK. Don’t worry about what you will read, don’t be concerned about me, I organized my thoughts and feelings and it’s all sorted out.”

What’s been nagging me is something I never wanted to admit. I really believed that I could beat the after- and side-effects and come out smiling at the end of this tunnel.

I am never going to be OK with being Infertile.

That doesn’t mean that I’m still fighting against the reality of what it did to my dreams. It doesn't mean I've surrendered either! It also doesn’t mean that I’ll be living with a grudge against Fertiles, Life in general or just for the sake of being mad because I’m hurting. It doesn’t mean that I won’t ever feel sad about not having children of my own, or that I won’t feel that burst of anger and/or frustration in an unguarded moment.

It does mean the following:

I accept that I’m a woman who wanted to be a mother and couldn’t be one.
I accept that some days the longing and disappointment will hurt like hell, no matter how far on the road of recovery I think I am.
I won’t think of myself as cold and bitter or a 100% healed on the days when the quiet acceptance replaced the hurt in my heart.
I will rather embrace my emotions - the whole range from sadness through hurt to anger and back to depression – than to fight against experiencing them when they visit.
I’m going to be patient with myself, and I will patiently teach others to be patient with me too, without making their life more difficult having to deal with my pain.
I’ll learn to translate hurtful statements and situations in such a way that I keep them from hurting me.
I’ll keep on confirming to myself that I am a successful woman, even without children, and that not being a mother does not make me less feminine, less of a woman, less responsible or less anything.

The waves are not going to crash over me anymore - I will learn to ride them like a seasoned surfer!

PS: If they do crash over me again on the days my foot slipped off the surfing board, I’ll just spit out the salt water, smooth the wet hair out of my eyes and - if I feel like it – run into the waves again for another ride to the shore.

Inferzilla

2007-06-01T19:38:00.000+02:00

"Do not turn and run, for there is nowhere worthwhile for you to go. Do not attempt to push ahead into the danger ... emulate the example of the water: Pause and build up your strength until the obstacle no longer represents a blockage." Marsha Sinetar

Is this what I'm doing at the moment? Pausing to build up my strength? Maybe it's what I've been doing the past 7 years.

Infertility is a monstrous blockage.

It overshadows everything in my life. It punched me in the face and knocked me out breathless. I listened to the count going up to ten, heard the gong, and the silence around me is more difficult to bear than the roar of any crowd in triumph for the winner.

I've been lying and waiting silently for too long now. My strength to fight against this cold, heartless monster has dribbled away into a kind of quiet submission.

Will I ever possess enough strength to let my life just flow around this obstacle in my path?

Like swimming in molasses

2007-05-27T10:17:00.000+02:00

Silly topic, I know. But when I thought about what to call this post, the first thought I had was the movie "Like water for chocolate". Don't ask me why, I can't explain.

My lack of posts lately can be explained though. No use trying to find colorful words to describe the depression that pulled me under. It's there, I'm under, and the molasses isn't sweet. It's tasteless but thick, cold, sticky and black as night.

I tried getting myself out in all kinds of ways that worked in the past. It doesn't work this time and I know I'll have to go visit the GP. But as it goes with the Big D, its hard work getting up in the morning, even more difficult to pick up the phone and getting myself and appointment. I'll get there, promise. I don't really have a choice. Things are getting worse and I don't like the dead feeling that grows inside me. I'm still somewhat OK and able to act OK, but my reserves are running dangerously low. Wanting to do the hermit thing seems the easiest lately, and it's NOT good.

Maybe it's more like just floating and not swimming...

On an ironic & synic note: the page I linked to molasses in the paragraph above contains the following paragraph: "A famous incident involving molasses was the Boston Molasses Disaster on 1919, in which a large molasses storage tank burst and flooded a neighborhood of Boston, killing 21 and injuring 150."

Who am I?

2007-05-20T12:16:00.000+02:00

So often we define ourselves through our experiences in life which mould who we are or who we want to be, the choices we made, the groups we fall into or the dreams we dream.

The journey towards finding yourself is a long and arduous one, twisting and turning in every direction. Reaching your destination is finding your personal identity – the definition of who you really are, independent of anyone else. Some people find a straight path that leads them directly to the discovery of themselves, and some people’s life path takes them on the scenic route.

We should not define ourselves by other people's views or beliefs but through the frame of how we affect the world around us.

So now that I’ve thought about how I should define myself, I decided to give you just the facts. And a little bit of what is in my heart – the way I want you to think of me. Pamela Jeanne tagged me with this meme, and here are my answers.

1. Basic facts about me: I’m a 40 year old young teacher, divorced, childless, and living in Pretoria, South Africa where I was born. Lived in 9 other towns and cities across the country during my life, but I’m happiest where I am now because I can see 11 of the 12 people in the core of my family whenever I want or need.

2. My family: The eldest of 4 children: 2 sisters (both married with 5 little boys between them) and a brother (still single and working in Abu Dhabi). Lucky enough to still have both my parents: Dad a retired banker, Mom a retired teacher. My family is my safety net – couldn’t wish for anything better!

3. My working history: I have 2 diplomas in education but have been a secretary, librarian and sales consultant too. For 3½ years I worked from home doing web design & web graphics and loved it. Still doing it part-time whenever I have a spare moment.

4. I’m an artist at heart, in my soul too. Not a follower but I don’t want to be in the lime-light as a leader either – way too much fun to do my own way-ward thing.

5. I love reading just about anything: a bookworm to the core! I prefer books that make me stop and think, as well as anything about forensic pathology. Barbara Kingsolver and James Patterson are two of my favourite authors. (Not enough space or time to list them all today!)

6. I’m dreaming of finding my soul mate: I know I can survive really well being single, but I prefer spending my life sharing its experiences with someone special. Hope is alive and well and living in my heart!

7. I’m still on the path to finding my true self, and the journey to my destination is one of mixed emotions ranging from intense sorrow to jubilation.

8. I have this secret dream of being a singer – not your average pop-star, someone different and unique like Katie Melua or Eva Cassidy. My favourite local singer is Laurika Rauch, maybe because so many of my friends and family says we look very much alike!

This is your chance; ask away if you need to know anything more. I’m tagging the following 3 people – my apologies if you have already been tagged, just consider yourself double-tagged. J

Pluto – Polkadot
Aunt Sassy – Rotten eggs
S – Worrier/Warrior

The path to wholeness

2007-05-16T19:37:00.000+02:00

Every now and then I stumble across an article that someone else wrote, describing something so much better than I could've hoped to do. And since I'm still practicing my English (my mother tongue is Afrikaans) it helps me organize my thoughts into more descriptive, touching "word pictures".

One such article landed in my Inbox today, and I want to share it with you:

'We think that God has blessed us if we don’t have too many troubles. In fact, religions have erroneously taught us that pain is punishment for our sins. We often ask, "What have I done wrong?" when things do not go the way we want.

Yet, to become ourselves in the truest and deepest sense, we must face our own duality, which of course includes facing our darkness. As souls we strive for wholeness, not for perfection.
At first, we really don’t know what is going on. We just find life difficult, challenging and often painful and unfair. Eventually, after much experience and reflection, we start to find meaning in it all. Eventually, we gladly accept the means whereby we can do the Soul work we have come for.

As we become conscious as Souls, we walk our journey purposefully, embracing the reality of our earthly nature along with the truth of our divine nature.

"When we are conscious of our personal uniqueness and our universal nature we express ourselves creatively. In this way we fulfill our dreams and our life purpose."
-- Andrew Schneider '

It ties in with my post of yesterday in the sense that we should revisit our darkness, our pain, and through doing so, find our purpose in life. Our pain lies in the fact that our own hopes and dreams differs from the reality of our lives. Only when we come to terms with the cards life has dealt us, we can start the healing, and become what we were destined to be.

The above email was sent to me via this website.

Climb that mountain!

2007-05-15T19:23:00.000+02:00

Lately I've been wondering why we choose to write about the same things other people in our community do. What I mean is that we write about the same stuff over and over again, every time dressed in a different way. We all have our own unique experiences, our own way of telling it, our own view and our own solutions or level of being positive about it.

Does it help to mull it over so many times? Writing about IF, reading about IF, thinking about IF?

Of course it does.

And Richard Nelson said it so well: "There may be more to learn from climbing the same mountain a hundred times than by climbing a hundred different mountains."

Julie Andrews, change your song for us please!

Climb your mountain, search high and low
Follow every by way, every path you know
Climb your mountain, ford every stream
Follow your rainbow, till you find your dream
A dream that will need, all the love you can give
Everyday of your life, for as long as you live
Climb every mountain, ford every stream
Follow every rainbow, till you find your dream…

So get out your gear girlfriend, we're going to climb this mountain until it feels like a little bump in the road!

3 Wild Wishes

2007-05-13T18:50:00.000+02:00

Sometimes I allow myself the luxury of playing “What if”. Today my game granted me 3 wild wishes. A fairy godmother appearing in a burst of stars waving her wand, or a magical genie popping out of a cloud of smoke from a mysterious bottle found somewhere. I can wish anything; nothing is impossible, as wild as I can wish!

My first wish would be to have a wonderful husband who cares deeply for me, with an ever-lasting love, someone I can love as I know I’m meant to love my soul mate.

My second wish: A girl-child with a head of black curls as way-ward and wild as my own, a smile that brightens up the world around us, and hugs that would melt the hardest heart.

My third wish would be to be president of the world for long enough to make a declaration that can never be changed: that Mothersday would be celebrated differently in future.

On this new Mothersday women with children won’t expect and demand to be pampered and thanked: they will celebrate the incredible gift of motherhood. They will be thankful for the fact that they were fortunate enough to be able to conceive and have a child or two or more. They would never, ever take motherhood for granted.

No gift giving, nothing commercialized, just a very simple day on which they give thought to how different their lives would’ve been without children. Maybe then there would be a better understanding of Infertility and the sorrow it brings. And maybe then there would be less thoughtless, cruel remarks that shatter infertile souls even further.

If you had 3 wild wishes, what would you wish for?

You can run & you can hide…

2007-05-12T11:22:00.000+02:00

… but you will never get away from the day called Mothersday.

Believe me I tried. I’m still trying because it only happens tomorrow and I won’t give in to the idea of locking myself in till Monday morning when I have to get up to go to school again.

I love my mom dearly, and I wouldn’t ever want to do anything to cause her any disappointment, make her feel neglected or not valued as someone really special in my life. So for as long as she is there, I’m going to try and think of it as a day to celebrate HAVING a mom.

It’s the not being one that is ~~hovering at the back of my mind~~ slapping me in the face lately. You all know the feeling. I promised myself that I’m not even going to blog about it, maybe it will go by easier.

But then on Tuesday a colleague of mine, one that I valued as a dear friend that understood me better than anyone, said something that made me wish I had you all standing there as witnesses. It was a Kodak moment that would be a perfect example of how astoundingly insensitive and cruel Fertiles can be.

She called an informal meeting of the social committee and told us we’re going to have a small function at the school on Friday to celebrate Mothersday. Surprise #1. Hellooooooooooo!! Why on earth do we need to do that? Wasn’t Sunday enough? Ok so we did the same on Valentine’s Day. Let it go Karen, you’re too sensitive.

Then came Surprise #2. What she said next still astounds me. I cannot believe that she actually thought it through, discussed it with other people and STILL said it!

She told us that she asked all our male colleagues to “donate” R20 (about $3) for the catering, and that since there were only 2 teachers on staff, me and S*, who didn’t have children; we should do all the other arrangements. Her exact words were: “Since you two aren’t exactly mommies, you should buy the food and arrange for the decorations so the mommies can put their feet up on Friday and just be pampered a bit.”

I was too stunned to say anything, just looked at her and wondered who this stranger was. To get away from the conversation I said we could discuss it later. The moment I got safely into my class I burst into tears. Up until then I thought it would be plain sailing through this weekend.

I avoided the staff room for the rest of the day, went home and thought of all the perfect answers I should’ve had that morning. My evil alter ego wanted to punch her in the face saying: “THAT’s how it felt to me when you made that cruel statement!”

To make a long story short, I informed her the next day that I was way too busy with family responsibilities and that I wouldn’t be able to help with the function at all. It was held during break time on Friday and I locked myself into my classroom, pleading too much work when asked why I didn’t attend. Let them think what they want; it was my way of coping.

She still is a special person, and I won’t ever be nasty to her in future, but what she doesn’t know is that I will never let her close to my heart again. She broke the trust. She hurt me in a very cruel way when she should’ve been wise enough not to. After all, she knows my yearning for a child of my own, and the heartbreak I endure because of infertility.

I wish I had the courage to say all these things to her face, and not keep the hurt inside.

Maybe someday when I’m stronger.

*(S is 40, married for 8 years, male infertility, and desperately wanting a child. Her husband refuses to consider adoption, so she doesn’t even have the hope of going that route.)

Life Lesson #437

2007-05-06T19:43:00.000+02:00

On Friday I came home in a really foul mood due to a few things that happened during the day.

Walking up to my front door I heard the phone ringing inside. I had a few grocery bags in my hand and struggled to get my keys out of my handbag. Once I got hold of them, I couldn’t for the life of me get the key into the lock to open the door in time to answer the ringing phone.

When it stopped ringing and I was still struggling on the outside, I just had enough of everything that went wrong the past few weeks and burst into tears, dropping the grocery bags right there. Banging on the door didn’t magically open it up, but when the worst flood of tears was over, I tried unlocking the door again. And it worked.

Walking through the door I got the answer that eluded me since the comments starting coming in on my previous post.

I don’t need a new key or lock or door to get into my house. I don’t have to look for another entrance like round the back or through the roof. Entering my house through the front door by opening the lock with the key I’ve been using the past few years WORKS. Only when I’m impatient, hurried and everything but calm it will get stuck.

It’s exactly the same with my faith. I’ve tested it extensively since I can remember, read everything I could about other faiths, but every time I returned to Christianity and my faith in God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Jesus Christ is my one and only saviour, and through Him alone I will receive life eternal.

These times when I lack enough energy to be strong in my faith, when I question the way God wants me to go, and rebel against His plan for my life doesn’t mean there is something wrong with my faith. It simply means that I’m growing in my understanding of God, I’m growing in my faith, and I’m growing towards more wisdom.

To those who commented on my previous post: Thank you for making me think, and reaffirming my faith. It’s good to ask questions, it’s good to test everything and not just accepting it as it is. God doesn’t answer YES to some of my prayers, but it doesn’t mean I have to be OK with it. He gave me the power of choice, and I chose Christianity with all its unexplained mysteries.

Comte de Buffon said: “Never think that God's delays are God's denials. Hold on; hold fast; hold out. Patience is genius.”

Life lesson #437: Never blog about politics or religion. If you decide to go ahead and mention something about it in a post, be prepared for a ~~little bit~~ lot more than you expected!

I'm too scared to pray.

2007-05-01T09:47:00.000+02:00

Just when I start thinking I’m doing OK, something really small and unrelated to IF happens and I’m flat on my bum again, trying to keep the tears away.

I envy those people who say their trouble with IF brought them closer to God. Wish I knew how they did it, because it makes me feel even more of a failure admitting I have a problem.

IF smashed my faith to bits.

I still believe in God, and that He is my saviour. On good days I can talk about how I see His hand in my life, and I can count my blessings and say thanks for them. But you see, I don’t trust God any more with the promises He made in the Bible. Maybe that is my problem, not believing. Not maybe, it is the problem.

I don’t believe that He will answer my prayers so I don’t pray any more.

Why don’t I believe that? Because for years and years I’ve been begging Him for a child; crying to Him through days and nights of my life. I tried to change my way of praying when it didn’t work. I tried to bargain with Him. I reminded Him of Hannah, even thought for a few silly moments it would help to change my name.

Then I stopped praying for a child. My prayers changed. I begged Him to give me my husband back. I was prepared to do anything, anything that was needed to save my marriage. I begged, I cried, I bargained. You know the history.

Someone with more knowledge of the Christian Faith would probably have hundreds of arguments to shoot holes as big as the moon in my story, telling me that God has a plan for my life, and that there is still something I need to do before He gives me the desires of my heart.

This post will turn into a book if I say everything I want to say on my faith, or the lack thereof. I’m already ashamed to admit I struggle with my it, no use exposing myself even more.

I’m too scared to pray because in my silly, IF-induced, pain-riddled mind, it seems that the moment I start praying about something, God will find out it’s important to me, and then He would make sure I won’t get it!

It’s stupid. I know. God isn’t small-minded. He isn’t vindictive.

Sometimes I forget about this insecurity in my heart, and start praying about something again, fervently. And then BAM! The answer comes and I don’t have the least bit of strength to pull my shoulders back and say: “Oh well, God has a reason why He said no. He is making me stronger, teaching me something.”

In my heart and mind I have all the answers to the questions surrounding my faith. I’ll listen to them tomorrow.

Right now I’m once again too scared to pray about anything important to me…

About history & legacies.

2007-04-28T12:53:00.000+02:00

Some people feel that without any history they are reduced to nothing.

Isn't that why we are so persistent in our struggle to have a child of our own? One of the subconscious and sometimes not so unintentional reasons is to reproduce our genes. But we also need to have heirs to our legacies, not really in the financial sense of the word, but more in a sense of leaving behind something of who we are, and what we believe in.

The thoughts in this post were triggered by an episode of Grey’s Anatomy I saw today. (I just love that show!) It was all about the importance of one’s history, being it medical, familial or just emotional.

Meredith said that sometimes patients forget important details of their medical history, on purpose or by accident. And that it could be the kiss of death in some situations. Then there are those people who try to rewrite their own history because they don’t like it all that much.

I’d give just about anything to change my history into one that includes a family of my own and one that excludes Infertility and divorce. Just erase all the heartache it caused and have that special dream I so desperately wanted to come true ever since I can remember.

But I’d have to pay a very high price for that.

The person I am today is someone I like. I care about the woman that’s me, with all her imperfections, idiosyncrasies and ample room for improvement. There are still a whole bunch of things I would like to change about myself. But the most important part, the woman I am deep inside, that part that has been to hell and back, is something I wouldn’t give up or change ever.

I paid for that part of me with a million tears, with heartache so excruciating I thought I would die from it. That part of me carries a wisdom that isn’t worth giving up for anything in this world.

My history isn’t that wonderful story I dreamed it would be when I was a little girl, not even when the little girl grew up and started dreaming grown-up, realistic dreams. But my history made me someone who knows what sorrow is, someone who realized that you cannot have everything you dream of. It gave me wisdom in and about situations where I never thought I’d have it, and strength of character that I’m proud of.

It’s not a choice – changing my history for who I am today. Like Meredith said: "It’s hard not to be haunted by our past. Our history is what shapes us, what guides us." It defines us in so many ways, wanted and unwanted. But I alone have the power to change my todays, even in small ways, so that tomorrow and into the future I would have something beautiful to remember. Even if I cannot be a mommy or a wife, I can leave a legacy of love; I can make an awesome change in someone else’s life today.

So remember: sometimes the most important history is the history we're making today!

A little bit more...

2007-04-27T12:42:00.000+02:00

The hope I blogged about yesterday is bubbling a teensy weensy little fountain inside my soul today.

Being 40 doesn’t mean my life is over.

Yes I know they say life starts at 40, and that it’s a time when everyone is taking stock of their lives. But no matter how hard I prepared myself for this landmark birthday, it still remains a struggle to let go of my thirties.

Sarah Solitaire has a post about an issue that I tried to ignore for too many years. Her therapist advised her to be open to having a relationship in her life. That she needs to be focussing on things other than infertility, so that if she never gets pregnant, she would have some sort of a life to pick up and can see some future in.

Eish.

(And for those of you who don’t know this word: it’s something South Africans say when they feel confused about an issue and don’t really have an answer. You pronounce it “eye-sh”)

Solitaire said the following in answer to her therapist’s advice: “I'm not really open to a relationship. I'm safe in my little solo bubble. OK, it's boring a lot of the time, but it's safe. I'm really not interested enough in the positives of a relationship for the want of those things to outweigh the desire to remain safe. Or at least for me to want to go out and actively try to find a relationship. Opening myself up to someone has only caused hurt in the past, so it's something I tend not to want to do. So, it is something I need to work on, I guess. I am trying to repeat to myself that I am open to a relationship.”

My sentiments exactly.

I’ve been building this wall against men so high and strong that it would take nothing less than a superman to get to me. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not anti-men, a wannabe lesbian, or a fiery feminist. I’m just too damn scared of having a real life committed relationship again with someone that lives with me, sleeps in my bed, and share a bathroom and everything else with me.

Growing old alone is something that scares me silly. So how on earth do I get from where I am and feeling like I do about a new relationship to having someone rocking with me on the porch when I’m old and grey?

And here is where that little fountain of hope turns into a flickering ember of hope. If I hurry up, and open up, I might just find someone in time to beat my biological clock, and we might just beat the odds and be able to make a baby and be a happy family…

And maybe, just maybe, I would one day wake up feeling my loving husband’s hand on my swollen tummy, the smile on his lips and in his eyes matching mine, the sun painting golden bands of colour into our room… and I’d know that miracles are a reality and that Infertility is but part of a bad dream that is finally over…

Let me sleep a little bit longer, let me hope a little bit more.

After all, most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all. Dale Carnegie believed it, and so will I!

PS: You might think I'd take the husband just to have the baby, but I want it all. I want a family, and right now I wouldn't even mind if the child wasn't my own. A daddy and a mommy and some pink feet, big or small, as long as the number is bigger than 2. More than 2 people in my little family that is :) not just more than 2 feet!

Hope vs Infertility

2007-04-26T23:02:00.000+02:00

Some days I don’t know why I do it. Reading your blogs about being in the middle of an IUI or IVF cycle, talking about follicles, triggering, or holding your breath during the 2ww – I must be crazy.

A while ago I was desperate in my despair: googled everything I could find on life after Infertility, struggling to find something to hold onto so that the familiar blackness wouldn’t pull me under and drown me this time. There was no one I could talk to about the resurfacing depression caused by my Infertility. It’s like last year’s news – old and dusty and supposed to be in the archives.

Somewhere during my frantic search I discovered someone’s words, followed a link to another blog, and another and that’s how I got here. Reading other blogs about IF helped me back to sanity. Some days more, some days less, but in the big scheme of things it helps me heal.

My time for IUI and IVF is over. I’ll never go that way again.

At first I thought it was some kind of self flagellation reading about your hopes and dreams of still beating Infertility and graduating as mothers, having the families you’ve been dreaming of, when my dreams are so absolutely something of the past.

Some nights when I close my eyes to go to sleep, I feel a sense of panic that I might be discovered and exposed as a masochist.

But you know, I keep going back because the hope I find in your blogs fills my reserves in a strange way. The hope that maybe, just maybe this time it will work for you, and that you’ll beat the IF monster that threatens to devour every single one of your dreams.

I keep going back because I want to read about your success where I have failed. Whether it’s your success in becoming pregnant, or making your marriage work despite IF. Your victories, even though you’re strangers in another world, would be a small victory for me as well.

Yes, sometimes it hurts me more reading about your hope of a pregnancy, reading about your husbands, about their support, love and comfort, but it’s not all that bad you know. It keeps my hope alive that maybe some day, when I’m ready to love again, someone would come into my life that would understand how IF changed me, and love me despite of that.

Thank you for your support, your comments, for the blogs you write, and for pinning down elusive words to describe the emotions in my soul.

But mostly, thank you for keeping my hope alive.

Jill Briscoe said: “I discovered that sorrow was not to be feared but rather endured with hope and expectancy that God would use it to bless my life.”

My Journey - Part I

2007-04-23T22:25:00.000+02:00

I’m 40. Divorced. Childless. And this is my story.

It was just another student party in March of ‘87, but one dark-haired, blue-eyed man caught my attention almost from the moment I walked through the door. We started chatting, and before I knew it we were married. Wait! It didn’t really happen so fast, but looking back, those days were so happy and carefree – a lifetime ago.

J and I got married in September of ’92. I didn’t like the wedding. Ok, I said it. It’s out. My dress was beautiful – I spent hours sewing on the thousands of pearls, and I loved it. Everything else was extra special: the flowers, the food, everything you could think about were made and presented with so much love by my mom and sisters and all involved. So why didn’t I like it?

Being the centre of attention made me incredibly uncomfortable. I hate cameras. People fussing over me, other people’s expectations – it was really difficult to get through that day. (If you ever read this mom – please don’t take it personally. I appreciate everything you did for my wedding so very much!)

After the honeymoon we moved to Cape Town. J was the manager at a golf course and I was housewife most of the time. During May ’93 we moved to a very small town in the Free State, somewhere in the middle of South Africa. Those were the happiest times of our marriage, but also the saddest.

January ’94 marks the beginning of our TTC journey.

Nothing happened. But we weren’t worried too much. My period had never been regular, only every 2nd month. Be patient, relax, everything in good time. Ring any bells? Those shuttupandleavemealoneyoudon’tknowwhatyou’resaying-bells? At the time I was still too ~~well-behaved~~ stupid to say straight out how those comments made me feel.

Going back a bit. During my first year of teaching, 1989, my face crusted up with the worst case of acne you could imagine. My teenage years were pimple and blackhead free – I was the luckiest teenager ever! You can just think how upsetting the ugly, itchy crusts on my face were. I went to my GP who sent me for an ultrasound, and whoa! Two super large cysts. One on each ovary. OK, not THAT big, but 3cm each are quite something if you’ve never even heard the word “cyst” before!

Diagnosis: PCOS

Treatment: 3 months’ of Diane-35

Result: Clear skin, no cysts, 25 kg extra weight on my body.

GP’s report back after 3 months: You’re cured Miss, healthy as can be!

Famous last words. Back then, nobody had enough knowledge about PCOS. Maybe some doctors in the US or UK knew about it, but there definitely wasn't enough known about it in South Africa at the time. But I believed him. Stupid, stupid girl.

Back to ’94. I picked up even more weight by then. The scale slowly but steadily climbed without me trying very hard. No diet worked for very long. And everybody blamed my struggle to get pregnant on my weight. It was just the start. The conditioning was done so thoroughly through the following years that I even find it difficult to believe the truth today.

During September of ‘94, a friend of mine convinced me to join her in visiting an acupuncturist who helped people loose weight. By that time I was pretty desperate.

My Journey - Part II

2007-04-23T22:23:00.000+02:00

I lost 15 kilos (about 35 pounds) with the help of the acupuncturist. Today I know I’d be able to loose the same amount of weight if I followed the diet without the needles stuck in my ear. Apple juice and mushrooms were my staple food. Oh yes, now and then a minute piece of steak, a tiny wedge of tomato and some lettuce.

After the 3rd visit, I felt comfortable enough to tell the acupuncturist why I was trying to loose weight. He threw his hands in the air and scolded me for not telling him earlier – he had the perfect solution!

Two months later, on that awesome day in January ’95, the elusive 2 pink lines appeared at last! The ultrasound only showed a bump on my uterine wall at 5 weeks, but it was there. We were pregnant at last!

(Just a few sobering thoughts on the acupuncture thing and getting pregnant. Looking back I don’t think it was the looooong needle in my ear that triggered the ovulation, but a combination of things. You don’t know how many times I’ve looked up the name of a local acupuncturist since then. Maybe, just maybe it would work again. But then logic surfaced and I put down the phone.)

Our families were ecstatic with the news. It would be the first grandchild on both sides. I bought a little turquoise elephant – our baby’s first toy. My mom gave me a pair of yellow crocheted booties. I still have both of these in a box on the top shelf of my clothes cupboard.

I’ll never forget that day I went to the loo and everything was red.

Our GP came to our house later that afternoon and gave me a shot of something. The start of a routine he followed for the next 5 days. He said not to worry, just don’t get off the bed; we’ll save your baby. What made me feel less alone at the time was the knowledge that my niece and hairdresser-friend were pregnant too: all 3 of us at 7 weeks. And they were spotting as well.

My mom came to stay with us 3 days into what I now think of as the red zone. She was the angel I needed. She soothed my fears, hugged my tears away, and told my husband to get the car ready when she realized everything was over. She accompanied us to the hospital and cried with me when the doctor confirmed our worst fears.

The next morning when I woke up after the D&C, J was sitting in a chair at the foot of my bed. It was the first and only time I saw him crying about our baby. Thereafter I never knew or understood his way of handling his emotions about our struggle with Infertility.

A few days after the miscarriage I received a snail mail letter from my best friend from college, B. It was a photo of her newborn baby girl telling the world she had arrived. I was sitting in my car when I opened her letter. Up till then I cried every now and then, but tried to be positive and upbeat because everyone expected it.

The dam wall burst and the tears came. J found me there in the car. He didn’t say much, just took me inside and made me some tea. I knew what the people in my life would say, so I didn’t talk to anyone, seeking neither understanding nor empathy.

They would’ve said something like: It’s over. No use mulling over it. Get up, be strong! You’ll get pregnant again; you now know you’re able to. Chin up, get on with your life, be positive and before you know it, there will be 2 little lines again! No harm meant, just their honest if misguided way of trying to offer consolation. (No comment needed on this paragraph, we all know how we feel about it!)

I buried all the heartache deep inside my soul. For a long time I cried secretly on 1 February every year. I’ve lost contact with my hairdresser-friend, but I know her baby-boy was born on the same day as my niece’s son. Whenever I see him, my heart cringes to think my child would’ve been the same age.

	I say "Adoption is NOT a consolation prize"
	I say "Because I want my OWN baby"
	I say "Because I can't afford to adopt from overseas"
	Imagine an enormous rock falling on them, but simply smile and say nothing.
	None of the above