Don't worry. Be happy.

This is where I'll be in less than 48 hours. Sipping on an ice cold margarita. Or two. Jamaica man! The first vacation we've been on in over 6 years that didn't include visiting family or having a packed schedule. A vacation just for us. A honeymoon. A five year anniversary (a year later). Diver Dude's fiftieth. My thirty-fifth. Christmas. You name it, we're celebrating. And relaxing. Did I mention the margaritas? With temperatures of 30C/86F even I will swim in the ocean. I've painted my toe nails coral red for the fishies :) 

The mind of an IF girl can't help but wander in the direction of miracles. Here's the scenario: I'm ovulating on Diver Dude's 50th birthday. We'll be in Jamaica. We'll make sweet love every morning, noon and night. Relaxed, happy and in love we'll return with a little extra luggage. Two weeks later, instead of preparing for our FET I'll take a HPT and get a surprise miracle BFP. The pregnancy will be text book and I'll be glowing the whole time. Nine months later we'll have a son. We'll name him Bob.

Pinch.

I wake up and admit we don't even have a 1% chance. Azoospermia remember? Oh well, it was a nice thought.

Meanwhile, I'll go back to packing my bags and humming a known Marley tune: "Don't worry about a thing. 'Cause every little thing's gonna be alright..."

27 days

since last I saw The Bloody Monster. She deserves a gold star for not taking a long break or acting too strange after the m/c. I'm also pretty sure I ovulated around the 1st, when I had the unmistakable tugging/pinching feeling in my left ovary.

 

So... it looks like I'll be ready to board one of our ice skaters in February. How exciting is that? And how terrifying? Scary as it may be, I am ready. Physically and emotionally. At peace with the m/c and ready for a new beginning.

I'm happy to be doing a natural FET and I'm hoping my body will handle a pregnancy better without the added stress of extra hormones. Hoping there will be a pregnancy to "handle" of course. With all my heart. 

Since we're doing a FET au natural I need to start charting and OPTing again. I just ordered 50 OPT El Cheapo online so I don't have to be bashful about how many days or times a day I test. And I get to practice this month. Practice makes perfect me thinks. 

I've been thinking a lot about weather or not to tell the world about this FET. When we did our IVF/ICSI we told everyone and his uncle. We told family, friends, coworkers, neighbors, pub owners, kennel staff and even the cashiers at bloody Sainsbury's. We were just so excited and hopeful and wanted to share our circus experience with as many people as possible. 

But that openness brought an unexpected darker side. Having to tell everybody about loosing the acrobat. And being open in a time of sorrow is so much harder than when you're hoperful and excited. 

For my birthday in November we all went to our local pub/restaurant for dinner and the owner and Diver Dude were joking about how poorly planned my birthday was since I couldn't drink. Congratulations were given to celebrate both my birthday and the new pregnancy. Last Friday we went back for the first time since. It was the last hurdle to get over after the m/c for me. Diver Dude knew about my worry and promised to support me. He was the one to go up to the bar and order "a Guiness for me and a glass of Merlot for my wife". He was the one who met the sad but politely smiling look of the owners wife. I watched at a safe distance and when she looked over at me with an uncertain smile I gave her a slight nod a crooked smile. And that was that. The last one to know. Now life goes on.

In a way I think it has helped me that everybody knew what was going on. I could be honest about the sadness I felt. I never felt isolated in my pain, and never felt like I had to hide anything. Not that I didn't want to at times. But I think it forced me to deal with all the emotions right away, and I think it made me stronger. Because being able to show weakness can make you stronger.

So I think that also this time we'll talk openly about our experience, but keep it to family and friends. I don't think the mailman or the baker needs to know about our impending baby making.

Introducing bonus-grandson #3

He's here. Little Man Chevy was born January 6th, 2010 at 15.45, weighing in at 7.7 lbs. Besides his parents, doctors and hospital staff, me and Diver Dude were the first to meet him. We were introduced to our new family member via Skype an hour after he was born. Skype rocks! And without further ado, here he is, the handsome fellow:

Little Man Chevy

And for good measure here's his proud big brothers: Sta-Bas...

... and Froggy-Boy

It's a strange feeling becoming a grandmother when you're not yet a mother. It's a bizarre mix of happiness and emptiness that is very hard to describe. I am truly blessed to have this wonderful bonus-family in my life, I can only wish to someday experience what it's like to have children and grandkids to which I don't have to add the word "bonus". Someday. Today I celebrate being a bonus-grandmother :)

Where did those extra five pounds come from?

Surely it wasn't from the scottish black pudding we had for New Years...

... or the delicious fish at Oceans 60 in Jacksonville...

... it couldn't have been the shrimp wraps for breakfast...

... or the seafood omelets...

... and it's impossibly all the christmas food, turkey, ham, mash etc that has stuck to my arse...

... nor could it be the omelet-shrimp-avocado-wraps...

... and it has absolutely nothing to do with lobster benedicts...

... or a ton of sweets and cookies...

... No, it must have been that little taste of reindeer feed I had! 

So, if I just stay away from that in the future I should loose a bunch of weight. Right? Right.

Getting hungry now. Gotto go. Staying away from hay.

This is part of Mel's Show & Tell, go check out what others are showing here.

Emergency Landing

When I first started looking in to going to Sweden for our IVF one of many concerns were if flying could in any way damage the embryo. Dr. Boss Lady and Dr. Doodle both assured me that there was no risk whatsoever, but Dr. Google was not as confident. Dr. Google informed me that miscarriage rates are slightly higher for flight attendants and said that if cabin pressure drops below normal it could cause a miscarriage. He also said that loosing cabin pressure was highly unlikely to happen and I felt confident enough that it was safe to travel during, and after treatment. So not only did we fly to and from Sweden for the IVF, we also booked our tickets to Florida before we knew I was pregnant. 

When I lost this pregnancy I searched my soul for answers to why this happened. Even though I'm not a religious person, I'm very spiritual and believe everything happens for a reason. But no matter how I twisted and turned this urgent question all answers I could think of were negative and pointed towards me being punished for things I had or hadn't done. It was very discouraging and heart breaking but somehow satisfying in a cruel and martyr-like way. I figured it was tough love and a way to redemption so I just dealt with it.

This Christmas, half way across the Atlantic on our flight from Amsterdam to Atlanta, the captain unexpectedly speaks on the intercom: "Ladies and gentlemen, I have turned on the seat belt sign. We are having technical difficulties and want everybody to remain in their seats until further notice." 

Me and Diver Dude exchange surprised looks and noticed the crew disappearing in their seats. Half an hour later the captain tells us they're having problems with the computer that controls the cabin pressure. He says they're trying to control it manually but it's difficult at the high altitude we're traveling and that they're going down to 10 000 feet. This will cause the plane to burn more fuel and we will most likely not make it to Atlanta. For several hours the captain updates us on the cabin pressure and altitude and course of action in 10 minute intervals until suddenly he says: "Due to our inability to manually control cabin pressure we're going to have to do an emergency landing in Gander, Newfoundland. Ladies and gentlemen, bear with me while I take this plane down in high winds."

All of a sudden I had this sense of calm and light inside me. Could it be this was part of the grand plan all along. Could it be Mr. Circus Director had made sure the embryo that was transferred was one that wouldn't develop into a baby to make sure a healthy pregnancy wouldn't be lost due to failing cabin pressure on this trip across the Atlantic. Maybe the tragedy of loosing this baby was a blessing in disguise to protect us from an even bigger tragedy. The thought of this being a possible answer gave me a strong sense of peace and I felt like I could take a full breath for the first time in months.

I kissed Diver Dude, told him that I loved him and squeezed his hand tightly and braced myself for the landing. Our plane rocked back and forth and bounced up and down in the wind and mist for what seemed like a really long time, but the plane landed seconds after we saw land. We all applauded and laughed with relief when we hit ground. Four fire trucks were waiting for us along the landing strip just in case. Diver Dude was all giddy and high on adrenaline and gave me a big kiss before we deboarded the plane.

Newfoundland have their own time zone, and it's not the normal full hour/hours difference, it's actually half an hour. That in combination with the empty military airport made it feel like we had landed in the twilight zone. Turns out the water tank on our plane had a hole in it and was leaking. The water froze on one of the wings and somehow put the computer that controls cabin pressure out of comission. After three hours in the Gander-zone we were let back on the plane. They had temporarily solved the problem by defrosting the ice and emptying out the leaking water tank. Trust me when I tell you there were a lot of praying and crossing going on when we took off. 

Amazingly, in spite of the emergency landing and a missed connecting flight, we were only about five hours delayed total. At 12.30 that night we staggered in to our hotel, bag-less (yeah, they lost our luggage between Atl and Jax) but happy to be there in one piece. As soon as Diver Dude's head hit the pillow he was snoring. We hadn't had much sleep during our 27 hour journey and a bit more excitement than expected so I was actually surprised he didn't crash standing up. 

Me, I managed to say a little prayer of thanks before I crawled up next to my man and joined the snore-fest.