This started as a pregnancy blog when I fell pregnant in May 2009 after four years of finding a donor, doing all the counselling / paperwork / tests and trying.
And now, thanks to a 4WD which skidded onto our side of the road, killing our baby daughter at 34w and injuring me, my partner and two of my stepdaughters on 27 December 2009, it has turned into something else. We didn't want this something else, but apparently it is all we've got to go on with.
Image: "Listen" by Mo Willems (copyright) from here
The quick swish-swish of a heartbeat much too fast to be mine!
It took my poor GP ages to find it (halloumi was higher up than she expected) but once we heard it, it was unmistakeable. Now we just have to see if I have enough patience to wait another 2 weeks to tell my employers... (we're officially at 12 weeks now, but my GP strongly recommended waiting till 14 weeks to bust the news)
Having never been the possessor of an ample bosom (only a modestly sufficient one) my first reaction on not being able to button up a favourite garment without the stretched and gaping effect was “Woo hoo!”. My next reaction after that what, “holy batman, must I now replace every bosom-related garment I own or risk flashing my extra womanly flesh all over the place?!” Having gone for three and a half weeks wearing the one bra that still fits (ambitiously purchased at a time I thought, nay hoped that I might be on the borderline of a C cup), and experimented to my peril with other ol’ favourites which are now severely overwhelmed by their expanded guests, I am facing up to the fact that I may have to go on a bit of an excursion seeking new and undoubtedly expensive bosomry equipment. Gah.
I feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland in that bit where she eats the mushroom and with her hand on her head tries to work out if she is growing or shrinking. For this, dear internets, is my key area of confusion – when do I know that they are going to stay the same size, or will they keep expanding onwards and outwards indefinitely, until something dramatic happens (I’m thinking either breastfeeding, weaning or an explosion)? Do they ever “settle” into a new “maternity” size, or am I to resign myself to strechy shapeless type things until halloumi is of school age?
Boobies, I thought I knew you! And now, while having happily surprised me, you have also upset the delicate balance of the universe which rests on the certainty of having the one bra size from age 15 onwards. My guess is that you have further surprises in store for me – both of the gratifying and disturbing kinds. Please let it be more of the former than the latter.
Ps. Yes I know this comes with the territory of being a mammal and all
PPS. For those who take a perverse pleasure/reassurance in my queasiness (you know who you are!), you will be delighted to know that I experienced what I hope will be known at "the most inglorious post-breakfast vomit known to womankind" the other morning. Let's just say I can no longer consider the prospect of what was once my favourite breakfast - oatflakes with milk & banana. urg.
Oh yes, I have been loving the egg very much lately. I realised that, quite accidentally, on Friday, I managed to eat eggs for breakfast, lunch and dinner! I actually woke up Friday morning dreaming of a big egg fry up (including, dare I confess, bacon - but that is a thought I find much less appealing when awake, and we are a strictly no bacon household). So of course, despite having to prepare for a meeting with my phd supervisors, I had to cook myself eggs, tomatoes and spanish onions for breakfast - mmmm! Then I met up with a friend for lunch, and we had some free sandwiches at a faculty event, and I just happened to select egg sandwiches.
Then, when I was heading home, I called the kids ("teenagers"? - that just sounds odd) and they were making hamburgers for dinner, and I spent the whole bus ride home planning and salivating about my egg-burger, which I have to say, took a while to make but was just as good as I imagined.
Egg! Om nom nom nom!!
Image from here (if you want to listen to the song, be prepared for high pitched singing of the praises of egg & cuteness overload)
You know that line I was spouting not so long ago about feeling nauseous but not getting to the point of actually throwing up? Ha. Spoke too soon. Bleugh! Nothing like being on your knees in the bathroom at 6am to start the day.
El Prima - my *ex* partner & aaineh number one. Yep, she's a lady. And so am I. Scandalous. Even better, she's Lebanese - and not just in a euphemistic way.
"the girls" - El Prima's two teenage daughters, Snacky & Snazzy, who live with us, and put up with my poor attempts at stepmama-ing. Her eldest daughter is 20 and living in another city. Snacky moved up to Sydney to study in Feb 2012 after finishing high school. Snazzy still lives with us (or at the house, with El Prima) and visits me and Ali where we are staying with friends,
Z - (aka Haloumi or khallila) our baby daughter, who died from placental abruption at 34w in the car accident on 27 December 2009.
Ali - long awaited little brother to the girls and to Z, born in May 2012
*edited on 13 July to add*
[where did my ticker go? It broke - I guess pregnancy tickers don't magically transform into "x days since our baby would hypothetically have been born, had she not died 6 weeks before" tickers. And I'm not sure I need a little program to tell me anyway.]
*edited on 11 Jan 2010 to add*
I think the reason why I'm leaving this ticker up here is because it is important to my mourning right now. We've had a funeral for our beautiful little girl, but in accordance with El Prima's faith (and my wishes) we will have a further, more public, ceremony around 40 days after she died. In some kind of wierd coincidence, 40 days was almost exactly how many days were left until her due date at the time she died. (I think that counts as irony of the saddest kind)
So while the significance has changed so radically, we are still counting down to something, even if it is not what we expected.
The fine print
I'd be a very bad lawyer if I didn't point out that everything I write here is copyright - please don't reproduce or borrow from it without my permission. Thank you!