A Field of Dreams

PACKING IT IN

2012-02-20T17:17:00.004+11:00

I've been contemplating this for a while and I've finally made my decision.

Today I say goodbye to this little blog. Today I bid you all my dear readers, a farewell.

Quite simply, I'm just too busy to even try to put words together on a regular basis. This last year I've transposed a few words on this blog just to be able to say that I've contributed. Alas the reality is, my mind is flooded with lots of material, but I can't find the time nor the relaxing silence to write it out effectively. Consequently, I've come to the conclusion that I. Am. Not. A. Blogger. I can't spin shit out of my arse regularly and so far I've only accomplished a conservative number in audience and very few comments each post. Let's get real here, I really don't have anything to profoundly illustrate anymore.

The light in my lamp has diminished.

And I couldn't care less. Really, I don't. This is no attempt at me being a victim and trying to hoodwink any sympathy votes and comments in order to continue. I simply have engaged in other activities in my life and writing in blogging form has not taken a priority.

I truly believe that blogging is for certain people or situations. For those who inspired me in the first place to write: The primary and secondary infertility community, the pregnant journeys and the established mummy bloggers. For those who would otherwise write in a diary, the ones who reach out in an educating and supporting circumstance and offer information. The cooks, the fashionista's and the inspiring writers/journalists trying to forge a widespread audience in order to be classified as authors.

I don't have any ambition in blogging anymore.

My week in general is spent: working, going to the gym, entertaining my son, being a conscientious housewife, spending time with extended family, socialising and very soon undertaking another tertiary qualification to further my skills. If I have some spare time, I might make love or watch a movie or read a book or knit or sleep or just stare into space.

I could have just disappeared, not posted and none would have been the wiser. I'm just offering an unpretentious explanation. The blog won't be deleted and it will remain in the Internet for anyone to find. For those in the darkness searching, and then a whisper trickles in their heart after they read my infertility story and it inspires them to hope and have faith again.

Or maybe they need a recipe for Galaktoboureko.

Or accidentally found their way here after googling arse, bum, cunt or fuck... weirdos.

I'll still be stalking and reading your blogs even if I now comment as 'anonymous'. If you would like to continue our shenanigans together and correspond more personally, just like I have done with others, please contact me on:

backache7@hotmail.com

"Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened."

~ Dr. Seuss

"When another blogger can get over 600 comments writing about stuffed weasels, that is when I know I'm in the wrong business and should be utilising my time to scratch my minge instead"

~ Athena

Handwriting

2012-02-06T15:26:00.006+11:00

When was the last time you wrote? Actually wrote with a pencil or pen in your hand? I can't remember, maybe last weeks shopping list?

How fucking boring - cheese, milk, bread ....

Edenland is a legend blogger and came up with this fanfuckingtastic idea for a meme of sorts and linking up with other bloggers. Every Saturday she will put up a theme that anyone can contribute to. I know it's Monday, but I've finally taken my finger out of my arse, and I promised her I would participate. So here is my effort. I've always liked this quote about children reading. I encourage my son often to pick out a book and I read it to him.

I hope reading books doesn't become perfunctory just like handwriting has become.

The kids at my work often describe and associate my handwriting with graffiti, the tagging kind. I wonder what my tag would have been in my youth?

"Children want to do what the grown ups do. Children should learn that reading is pleasure, not just something that teachers make you do in school"

~ Beverly Cleary.

Welcome To My Humble Abode You Magnificent Tarts

2012-02-02T18:37:00.002+11:00

Since writing my last post and finally celebrating the inclusion of being in a motherhood brigade, I had this earth shattering realisation. Most of the mothers I know are not In My Real Life. Sure I have girlfriends who became mothers waaaaay before I did and they are still integral in my life with information and support. However, all of them live far and it's very rare to physically meet up and share a conversation about parenting with a hot beverage in hand (or an alcoholic variety) as other life and personal situations take priority . The majority of information, support and even a good laugh out loud moment is me sitting at a desk, reading words and staring at photos on the computer - sharing life stories with other mothers.

I'm not sure whether that is fucking sad or what?

All of these women I first "met" on the web via a birth club forum. A forum that I was already part of when I was trying to conceive and also as a miscarriage survivor. Nowadays we are all part of an exclusive and definitely not elusive group of mothers on the Fac.ebook. A much more easily accessible social network with the addition of privacy and protection for the information we disclose and the photos of ourselves and our children that we post.

If I have an issue with toilet training - I go to this group.

If I want some support and reassurance about returning to study whilst still tackling motherhood, wifehood and working part time and everything else in between - I go to this group.

If I want to share ideas, offer my knowledge or just a plain old vent - I go to this group.

If I want to spray my coffee on my computer screen because someone made me piss my pants laughing - I go to this group.

If I just want to lose myself for just a minute in the beautiful community of mothers who don't judge you - I go to this group.

Most of all, the surface of who these women are resonates what I believe they would be like In Real Life - strong, compassionate, creative, selfless, humble, caring, beautiful, and awesome women.

Thanks girls for completing me and being such an important influence in my role as a mother.

You bunch of fucking magnificent tarts!

If we ever do meet in person and you are invited to my home, I will indulge you with this classic Greek appetizer or snack.

~~~~~~

Spanakopita- Cheese & Spinach Pie

Ingredients

12 sheets filo pastry

120g butter, melted
1/4 cup (60ml) olive oil
1 or even 2kg baby spinach (depending how much you love the spinach)
250g feta cheese, crumbled
150g ricotta cheese
1 brown onion, finely chopped
1 bunch shallots, finely chopped (optional)
2 garlic cloves, crushed
2 tbs chopped dill
4 eggs, beaten

Method

1. Heat oil in a fry pan, then add onion, shallots and garlic. Cook for 1 minute until softened, then add spinach and half the dill. Cook, stirring, over low heat for 1-2 minutes or until spinach has wilted. Drain in a colander and cool, then combine with cheeses, eggs, salt and pepper.

2. Preheat oven to 180°C. Brush a 2 1/2-litre baking dish with butter. Lay one sheet of filo on base and sides and brush with butter. Repeat with 5 more sheets. Spread cheese mixture over top. Cover with remaining filo, brushing each sheet with butter. Trim excess pastry with kitchen scissors and tuck edges into sides of dish. Brush top with butter and score lightly with knife.

OR

Roll the filling to create a dim sim look.

OR

Fold the filling into individual triangle shapes.

Bake for 45 minutes or until golden colour. Rest for a few minutes. Can be eaten hot or room temperature.

This recipe can be substituted for any ingredients you prefer, it is so versatile!

~~~~~

This post is also dedicated to Ants - Making Baby Giraffes, who finally welcomed her long awaited baby girl in December 2011. She asked me for this recipe a very long time ago. Spanakopita is great for a light snack when you are too buggered to cook. The spinach content is also high in iron and perfect for vitamin intake whilst breastfeeding.

Image Credit

Kindred Spirits

2012-01-20T16:42:00.001+11:00

As the fireworks drizzled to an airy smoke and the hung-over nursed their weary heads, the year 2008 was born. The year that my expectations of assisted conception came to a formidable and overwhelming end.

Empty wallets with nothing to show for it.

No baby to cuddle and love.

2008 was the beginning of a new adventure. I had not given up on trying to conceive. Pfft! Why would I since I was hard at it for 5 years at this point? What was another 5 more? Although I was heading towards the fucked up age of 35, when supposedly my fertility would come crashing down to A Few Good Eggs rather than an Easter Parade. 2008's resolutions included the gym, Chinese herbs, a positive attitude, and the death to bitterness and jealousy.

The basket of eggs would be replaced with HOPE.

In 2008 I accomplished all my resolutions and by New Years Eve, the magical 2 lines presented themselves on a pee stick. Albeit rewind the time to mid-year as I cried rivers over a miscarriage. Although even that disastrous experience gave me a sprinkle of faith.

This post isn't about that journey. Most of you already know it. No, the beginning of 2008 was an invitation to a relatives second child, 1st birthday party.

I didn't attend the party.

As much as my resolutions were in my head, they were still fresh. My heart was tired and my soul haggard. 5 years of infertility forced me into a black hole. As much as I felt and hoped that I would't be there for long, I enjoyed it - the darkness and serenity. No kids birthday party was going to shake that reverie away from me. I had already endured the first child's birthday's and Christening, and all the other celebrations that family and friends gather around for. I was always the only one amongst their fruitful and abundant fertile friends with an empty womb, empty arms and an empty heart.

I wasn't ready and my bullshit smiles were becoming redundant.

Fast forward to Present Day, this Sunday this child will be turning 5 years old.

I will be attending the party.

I will be attending the party with my husband.

I will be attending the party with my son.

I will walk amongst the people in the crowd with a twinkle in my step.

I will hold my beverage up high and wish the little girl a lifetime of happiness.

I will watch my son play with the other children; full of joy and spirit.

I will walk up to my husband and wrap my arms around his waist and immerse myself in a conversation about toilet training mishaps and textures of poo. I will pretend to give a shit and debate the benefits of whether my child will be attending a public or private school.

I will then go to the privacy of the toilet and cry. Cry of happiness that finally I can enjoy a kids birthday party without scorn and venom plastered all over my face nor distress for my predicament.

I will then go home, put up my feet and remember that it was not about being associated or accepted with a certain crowd but that I now was a proud member of a primordial kinship.

Kindred Spirits of Motherhood.

Galaktoboureko

2012-01-12T19:50:00.000+11:00

I don't know about you, but these rare Summer days are making me want to sit back with a classic book and indulge my sweet tooth whilst I feel my arse get bigger. I'm not talking about sweaty armpits, "I. Want. To. Die. In. A. Pool" stinky heat but that laid back variety as I observe The Boy play with his new Christmas present Nerf water gun aiming for Shooters balls. I'm over this wind "knock my toupee off" campaign that this weather has brought to our beautiful beachy shores of Aystraya and What. The. Fuck is it with this chill? Seriously, I had to walk out the door the other day with my hoodie on (because I'm old and my ears get cold)

The sweet I'm talking about is Mama Jenny's evil nemesis The Galaktoboureko. The only dish she cannot master. It's not extremely difficult to cook, but one that is a challenge and it could go in the toilet for the frogs to eat or fed to my Kangaroo pets in my backyard if it fails miserably.

Galaktoboureko (γαλακτομπούρεκο) is a Greek dessert of semolina-based custard in filo pastry. It may be made in a pan, with filo pastry layered on top and underneath, or rolled into individual servings. It is coated with a sweet syrup.

Its name is derived from the words gala (γάλα; milk in Greek) and bourek (Turkish word burek: pie or pastry). ~ Wikipedia.

Ingredients:

1 Packet Filo Pastry
250g butter – 50g for the cream and the rest for the filo
1 litre fresh milk
2/3 cup fine semolina
1/3 cup thick semolina
Grated rind from 2 lemons or oranges
4 eggs
2 vanilla essence
½ teaspoonful grated cinnamon

For the Syrup

2 cups water
3 ½ cups sugar
3 sticks of cinnamon
3 slices lemon peel or oranges
1 tablespoonful syrup
15 cloves plus some extra for the filo

Method:

Remove the filo from the fridge and let it come to room temperature.
Simmer the milk in a large pan with the sugar and the semolina, stirring continuously until the mixture starts to thicken.
Lower the temperature and add the eggs one at a time whilst stirring vigorously.
Allow the mixture to thicken whilst stirring continuously.
Add the remaining ingredients for the cream.
Set the cream aside, covering it with cling film which is in contact with the cream so as that it doesn’t form a crust.
Melt the butter.
Spread half of the filo on the bottom of a large round oven dish and spread melted butter on it.

Spread the cream on top of the filo.
Place the remaining filo, spread with melted butter, on top of the cream.
Cut round the edge of the oven dish to remove the extra filo.
Fold the filo over the edge of the oven dish.
Butter the surface.
With a sharp knife, score the top of the filo diagonally into portion sizes. In the centre of each portion place a clove.
Bake the galaktoboureko in a preheated moderate oven at 180 degress for up to 45 minutes or until it has a golden colour.
Allow it to cool and cut it where it has been scored, whilst it is still in the oven dish.

Preparation of Syrup

Put the water and sugar in a large pan.
Add the rest of the ingredients for the syrup and boil gently for 20 minutes.
Pour the syrup on top of the galaktoboureko, allowing it to be absorbed. Better to do this after the galaktoboureko is completely cool.
When serving, sprinkle some ground cinnamon on top of each portion (optional).

I also like to follow up my taste buds with this:

Greek Frappe

“He who indulges - bulges”

~ Anonymous

Welcome 2012! I promise to be a good girl and eat healthy food!!

Image Credit

Wordless Wednesday - Creme de la Creme

2012-01-04T12:06:00.006+11:00

Click on me - Stirrup Queens Creme de la Creme List

My Christmas Post Contribution

2011-12-23T14:44:00.002+11:00

Gotta love the clothes and hair.
Anna Vissi is like the Olivia Newton Johns of Greece.
Don't you just love her 'fuck me' eyes?
Are they TV screens in the background? Where was this shot - in a Bing Lee store?

And why did they both drop a Prozac before singing this?

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

They Told Me About Themselves

2011-12-15T18:33:00.002+11:00

The year is coming to an end and I ponder the stories, experiences and journey's I have read in the blogosphere. I appreciate the entertainment they give me. I understand their pain and frustrations and I acknowledge their life through their words.

The pregnancy announcements from Love & Other Drugs and My Path to Insanity & Beyond were the highlight. I have followed your journey from years of trying to the tears shed from miscarriage and now viable pregnancies with beating little hearts. The journey continues for you both, you are still not at the magnificent end. But my prayers and thoughts are always with you.

New births from Riding the IVF Roller Coaster and Yolk confronted the reality that infertility does not always win and beautiful babies were born to deserving people.

Then there are the ones still fighting the battle of infertility. With their gorgeous first children tucked close by as they struggle to give them siblings. Secondary Infertility is not a myth and should be acknowledged as any other scramble of life. InfertiliTee and A Year On - A New Beginning (private blog) represent this struggle that some of us take for granted of its importance.

Whilst Beckie and Ree recently nurse their wounds of unsuccessful cycles. Hope still lingers as they comfort their weary souls and this enduring battle of bringing a baby home one day.

The darkness lifts and I appreciate my lot in life and the blessings of my child who makes me smile; yet I question motherhood and I have never really confessed it here until today, that it's been hard. Haidee and Singular Insanity wrote from an open and honest heart and they get it - how I feel on some days.

So I eat food for comfort, my weight loss is trudging along but not there yet. A Half Baked Life blows me away for her originality and amazing gifts of delicious recipes and life adventures and instruction.

As the year closes, new life and new beginnings will come roaring from the bend. I'm looking forward to meeting the babies of Making Baby Giraffes and One Perfect Emby. Let's not forget double trouble twins from The Daily Miracle and Diary of Taking Small Steps (private blog). Journeys fought and the new challenge - motherhood will be new to some.

And then there are these goddesses. Mothers who are honest and proud. Mothers who keep me updated on their regular shenanigans and insight to their struggles, highlights and happiness of motherhood. Lauren, Helen Romina and Kate - You make me laugh out loud!

I'm not one that follows rules so I won't indulge you with the obligatory rant of 7 things about me - 'cause you can read my blog instead! But I would sincerely like to thank A Journey Not for the Lighthearted for recently presenting me with this Award:

Thank you.

I pay it forward to the blogs I have linked above because they are not scared to tell me about themselves. There are also the colourful buttons on the bottom left side - blogs I love and read often.

Go on ... Link them, Read them, Appreciate them.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-12-14T11:15:00.001+11:00

"Only where children gather is there any real chance of fun."

~ Mignon McLaughlin - journalist and author.

4 Photos That Sum Up My Holiday

2011-12-05T17:56:00.000+11:00

THE VIEW

WHERE I SPENT MOST OF MY TIME

FATHER AND SON

A FRIENDLY KOOKABURRA

"Don't underestimate the value of Doing Nothing,

of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear,

and not bothering".

~Pooh's Little Instruction Book.

"A Field That Has Rested Gives A Bountiful Crop"

2011-11-27T16:05:00.002+11:00

The family and I are off on a short holiday. This tired body needs a rest. A rest that will hopefully, eventually help with the creative mind, the strength to play, and the motivation to live.

Here is where I shall spend most of my time:

And here:

I might spot one of these:

I'll definitely be wining and dining on this every night:

I might come back with this body:

Ta-ta....

Image credit HERE

Because Violence Against Women Is Just Not On

2011-11-18T10:58:00.002+11:00

Today I'm Speaking Out about White Ribbon Day. You can get involved or read other blogs by going HERE. "This event date is strategically set to lead into International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women on Nov. 25. One in four women will experience domestic violence in her lifetime. The aim of this event is to bring awareness to the cause and encourage victims to speak out and seek help." ~ Wanderlust.

My post today will reflect on the other victims - their children.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I've been fortunate to have a father who is a good man and a husband who is a great man. I've never been scared for myself. I've never been put in a situation where I had to protect my mother, my sister or my son. Although my personal life has seen its own trials and tribulations, it is the work that I do for young people that has opened my eyes to the reality of domestic violence. A position I wish I never had to be in, but nevertheless a position that allows me to support and advocate for young people who in particular, have experienced domestic violence first hand.

As a youth worker for 17 years I have come across many young people who have sought my help. I can't count the amount of times I have wiped away tears, offered information and advocacy, sat in a dreary court room or held their hand in the hospital emergency room. Their reasons for seeking me out is to find someone who they can trust and talk to about the relationship breakdown of their parents. How they stepped in between them, trying to stop dad from bashing mum. Having to call the police on someone who they love. Feeling alone, desperate and victims themselves.

Such beautiful souls that I have met during my life and my career. Such innocent young people who should never have had to be put through this horrible situation in their young lives. Some left their families and became homeless, abusing drugs and alcohol to try and forget. Others now living in single parent households, free and safe. The very few who through counselling and intervention now live happily with both their parents. Whilst others still struggling to stop the violence.

“Nobody believes that domestic violence kills and nobody believes it is detrimental to children. This world has got to wake up. To me, if there is domestic violence, if the children see it or hear it, that to me is detrimental". ~ Denise Brown

Thank you Wanderlust for creating the Speak Out campaign.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

For information, support, a safe place, advocacy and how to end the violence,

Please go HERE.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Drawing

2011-10-31T14:17:00.002+11:00

You stand at the coffee table, the cartoon show blares in the background - mum is not allowed to change the channel. The table is covered in an array of pencils, crayons, textas, bits and pieces of paper, 5 cent coins and a rock collection from the garden. You don't notice mum looking at you whilst she slowly sips her coffee. She is so proud of her baby with his cheeky smile.

You have the blue texta in your hand now, the table itself is already covered in green, orange and red scribblings . Mum secretly smiles that the textas are water-based and can easily clean off the table once today's art class closes and nap time begins. Maybe she'll finish her cup of coffee then. You notice mum looking at you. Ask her to draw you a picture. Mum picks up the orange crayon and draws you a flower, then the yellow for the sun, the black for a house and the green for three special people who live in the house. Your eyes never leave the crayon as it delineates so carefully on the paper. Transfixed to the images that's now filled the blank white page.

You ask mum to draw a dog, then a cat, a cow, a guitar, a car. She obligatorily continues to indulge you.

Mum then asks you to draw. "Draw a face" she says. Draw a circle for the face, draw the eyes, "how about a nose and mouth?" You yell out "moustache!". So you draw it. Mum asks "where are it's ears and it's hair?". You finish your drawing and mums mouth falls. Gone are the days of the free flow scribbles but an actual drawing of a Face.

My little man, merely 2 years old and is already starting to grow up and draw pictures.

KARITHOPIDA - Walnut & Syrup Greek Cake

2011-10-20T17:12:00.002+11:00

As promised, I return to the blogging world with one of my beautiful mum's famous Greek cake recipes. You can also view other recipes, here.

Karithopida - an old recipe that dates back hundreds of years, (with the exception of it's evolution using varying ingredients depending on availability), was first enjoyed by the high society women of Athens. Sitting around coffee lounges whilst their men went off to probably sharpen their spears or "bond" with other men. The women indulged in friendship and gossip, drinking their tea or coffee, and surrounded by architecture and culture.

It's basically the one cake that I truly enjoy in the company of my mum and aunt. My aunty is THE QUEEN of making this cake. She knows it's my favourite and whips in up as soon as I enter her humble abode. We've had a few good laughs whilst eating this cake and the greatest part is the actual health benefits of the KING OF NUTS - The walnut.

It's benefits include the ample presence of antioxidant and anti-inflammatory nutrients and it is one of the leading foods that promotes good heart and circulatory systems. Walnuts help reduce metabolic problems such as unwanted fats especially in the tummy region, treatment of Type 2 Diabetes and also has anti-cancer benefits. Some studies also suggest that walnuts can improve memory and other brain functions. It is high in Omega-3 fatty acids as well as Vitamin E - worried about cellulite? Eat walnuts!

It looks like a brain!

Καρυδόπιτα

Ingredients
100g walnuts very roughly chopped
400g grated walnuts
400g all purpose flour
400g sugar
125g butter
8 eggs
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons cinnamon
4 tablespoons cognac or brandy (optional)

Syrup
320g sugar
400ml water
a splash of lemon juice (optional)

Method
Beat the butter, sugar, cinnamon the yolks of the eggs in a mixer for 10 minutes.
Transfer the mixture to a bowl.
Clean the mixer bowl and beat the whites of the eggs in the mixer until it becomes a meringue.
Add half of the meringue to the yolk mixture.
Mix the baking powder with the 400g grated walnuts, gradually adding the flour.
Add this mixture to the egg yolk mixture along with the remaining meringue, stirring gently.
Transfer the whole mixture to a 30cm oven dish, 6cm deep, which has been well buttered.
Spread the 100g roughly chopped walnuts on top.
Bake in a preheated oven at 180 degrees for 45 minutes to 1 hour.
Meanwhile, put the sugar and water in a pan and boil for 15 minutes. Some recipes also add a splash of lemon juice (optional)
Remove the cake and cut into pieces and spread the syrup over the top, followed by the cognac or brandy.

Important! The cake must be completely cool before the syrup is added, otherwise it will be very soggy. Whipped cream, icecream or fresh fruit can also be served on the side. Enjoy!

Simple yet delish!

Image credit here.

International Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day - 15th October

2011-10-13T22:07:00.012+11:00

The 15th October marks

International Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day

A day where all mothers, fathers, families, friends and the community unite to support and understand.

I remember the day.

The day my period was late and an old unused pregnancy test sat in my cupboard. A test I never got to use a year earlier after an IVF cycle failed.

I was sitting on the toilet, peeing. Thinking that I was just stupid, that this test after so many years, would ever be positive. After nearly 6 years of infertility and failed assisted conception treatments, I couldn't even fathom that a pregnancy had resulted and that it had come naturally.

It was Greek Easter week and I thought of G.od.

The test eventually did show 2 lines.

I was numb yet excited. I was scared yet appreciative. I didn't really know how to react. I walked like a zombie, delirious with the reality that I was finally blessed. The next few weeks my life had slowed down. What life presented to me felt like I was stuck in an old movie reel - pictures, people, words, movement, sounds and colours fading in and out. My concentration was solely on what was growing inside of me and the fear I felt, engrossed my entire body and soul. Nothing in the world was important to me. Nothing but this miracle inside of me. All those years of tears and sorrow were becoming dark shadows, still lingering to remind me of my past yet the secret smile on the corners of my mouth were gently moving in position to eradicate them.

The day I miscarry was one of the worst days of my life.

It happened quickly and mercilessly. The bleeding began and the painful cramps camped in my belly. It teased me for a few days but after a visit to the Emergency Hospital, it brought that sneaky smile crumbling down beyond sadness. But a depression so deep and profound. The blood test showed low numbers. The scan showed a heartbeat struggling to keep up. I was sent home to be surrounded by my own comforts and to miscarry my little one. Friday, the 13th June 2008 I held my little bean, bloodied, wrapped in toilet paper and I buried it with my beloved dog.

Yes, this post is callously descriptive of what occurred that day. It needs to be, so that if you have never had a miscarriage or don't know of anyone close to you who has been through one, then you will understand what it was like for me - to want to be a mother so badly, yet so easily given to others. See me crying desperately and huddled for days in a corner wishing my life would just end. This is how it is like for millions of women worldwide. 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage. A devastating time regardless of how far along you are.

I remember my pregnancy for the little soul that lived in me for those 7 weeks. For the few moments of happiness it brought me.

I remember the losses that my friends experienced too. Some of them now blessed, like me with miracles; we hold our children's beating hearts in our arms with kisses and cuddles every night. Some of them pregnant again - hoping the babies they carry will be born alive and healthy. There are others still fighting to achieve those illustrious 2 lines - waiting for their first born or for a sibling. Whilst others journeys have already ended with only memories of their angels to hold on to.

I raise my glass to you:

Alana, Anne-Marie, Bec, Chhandita, Chon, Claire, Deb, Elphaba, Emma, Felicity, Geena, Jayde, Justine, Kelly, Kirsty, Kristy, Laila, New Year Mum, Ola, Rachel, Ree, Sharon, Skye, Tee & Wave.

"When all we wanted was the dream,
to have and to hold that precious little thing."
~ Wait, Sarah Mclachlan

Robyn Bear, Founder and Lisa Brown, Co-Founder of http://www.october15th.com/ "envisioned a day when all grieving parents could come together and be surrounded by love and support from their friends and families, a day where the community could better understand their pain and learn how to reach out to those grieving. This would be a day to reflect on the loss yet embrace the love. While our babies’ lives were so brief, they were also very meaningful. Yet, their was not a time to talk about them. Our society seemed to forget or perhaps, simply didn't know how to reach out. We are asking everyone in all times zones, worldwide, to join us in a candle lighting ceremony at 7pm on October 15th".

Will you join me?

Showing Support with the Written Word

2011-10-12T16:38:00.000+11:00

Please click on over to a dear friend and blogger,

Chon

who needs support, love and hope.

Your Beauty & Worth Cannot Be Measured

2011-10-07T11:40:00.000+11:00

"The problems with modern life is obsession" ~ Gaius Baltar

R U OK? DAY

2011-09-15T10:32:00.001+10:00

“The good I stand on is my truth and honesty.” ~ William Shakespeare

I'm taking a pause on my blogging break to post about this important day:

R U OK? Day states that it is:
"A national day of action which aims to prevent suicide by encouraging Australians to connect with someone they care about and help stop little problems turning into big ones.

On that day we want everyone across the country, from all backgrounds and walks of life, to ask family, friends and colleagues: "Are you OK?".

Staying connected with others is crucial to our general health and wellbeing. Feeling isolated or hopeless can contribute to depression and other mental illnesses, which can ultimately result in suicide. Regular, meaningful conversations can protect those we know and love.

It's so simple. In the time it takes to have a coffee, you can start a conversation that could change a life".

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I have a friend who took her own life a few months ago. I wrote a post about it, but I deleted it because an unfortunate snowball effect occurred. Someone who was acquainted with my friend discovered the post. Even though only her first name was written. (Google at its worst?) She told someone who then told someone that then led to someone I know who was also a very good friend of my friend. She expressed her disappointment and enmity for my post. She commented that I aired my friends circumstances for all to read without regard. She believed that my post may garner gossip amongst other people who also knew my friend and evidently disclose the issues she had in her life.

I respect her opinion. I did not want that post to darken the beautiful memories we have for our friend. I just did not want to increase the grief nor cause any further offence to her, and others who knew my friend.

I wrote the post during a very distraught and raw time. I was so ignorant and naive to think that my lowly blog and that post would even be discovered. In the post I questioned things, mentioned possible issues she may have faced. I was trying to put the pieces to the puzzle together. I wrote about our friendship and the loving memories I had of her, the bulk of the post. Essentially, I wrote in the hope that what I was feeling in my grief: lost, despondent and confused, would allow transparency for those left behind after suicide as well as information and links to those who were feeling alone and depressed.

I'm not proficient in my writing and being only new to blogging, I wrote from my heart and I attempted to destigmatise suicide with written conversation. Maybe my words didn't come across that way. I didn't air anything that wasn't already known by many and would eventually be a topic of heartfelt discussions and not as grounds for gossip. Hopefully the people who were in her life would find peace and resolution for those who sought it. Possibly the answers to the WHY? It makes me sick to my stomach to think that someone would abuse the truth for scandal (or be accused of it) rather than reflection and an understanding of a beautiful soul.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As a youth worker for the past 17 years and most especially as a human being, I have always supported and advocated for young people living with mental health illnesses, child abuse/neglect, domestic violence, body image, self esteem and suicide prevention. By censoring these topics all we do is continue to stigmatise. All we do is become emotional blanks, who turn our backs to those who need support and help. I'm no one special, just someone who gives a shit and someone who had a friend who died by suicide.

I will continue to support, advocate, provide comfort and share my experiences. I will never judge. Talking and writing about these issues is important. I believe we all have a responsibility and obligation to talk about suicide and the issues that may have led to it in order to dispell myths and increase community understanding; as a means to provide information and support and to not allow these issues to continue being taboo. As well as providing enough resources for prevention.

"Nothing will change until someone acts" (R U OK? Day)

Since the death of my friend, R U OK? Day is EVERY DAY for me now.

I will NEVER bury my head in the sand.

How to start a R U OK? Conversation. Click here.

Go on, pick up the phone and call someone.

Services and Websites:

http://www.lifeline.org.au/

http://www.kidshelpline.com.au/

http://www.reachout.com/

I would also like to thank Madam Bipolar for all the support and information you have given me. I appreciate everything you do. You are definitely an amazing and inspiring woman!

BREAK Life Into Parts, and Handle One Part at a Time

2011-08-25T12:16:00.002+10:00

I'm taking a blogging break.

I can pretend that I have writer's block but alas I'm just feeling lazy. The spring air that is teasing me at the moment is motivating me enough to open the door, breathe in the air and then quickly walk back inside as I'm sneezing a lung here.

I usually blog when there's a quiet moment at home (and sometimes work, ssshh...) There's no money in it for me nor is it a business venture, let alone any writing opportunities. There are far better writers and bloggers out there, just look at my sidebar! I write for fun and a laugh or sometimes to just get stuff out of my head. Most of all it is a link for others who may find hope in my infertility journey. It won't be missed. It's time to utilise my free time for other things I have loved doing during my life: reading books and television.

It's time to dust off The Strangest Adventures series. Written at the tender age of 13 by Alexandra Adornetto who is an Australian author. As a youth worker, I've always supported young people and their talents and I was completely amazed at this young writer. I have yet to finish the series and look forward to losing myself in the colourful characters.

And then there's the classic serial killer book that I have been inspired of late to read again after meeting a couple of my beautiful forum friends and another very soon. How the fuck did I tie forum friends and serial killers together you ask? Well what would go through your head when you are just about to meet people you first "met" on the Internet?

Then I will grab a bag full of delicious ~~cheese and bacon ball chips~~ carrot and celery sticks and watch my all time favourite TV cop show The Shield and then indulge in the period piece The Tudors.

In between the relaxing times I will again be a mother, a wife, a sister and daughter. A friend, an employee and a gym attendee. I will also be researching and documenting my mum's Greek recipes and hope to inspire you, feed you and salivate your senses when I return.

Ta ta...

Shopping Centres and Tantrums Are The Equivalent to Arse and Undies

2011-08-15T18:33:00.002+10:00

They go hand in hand.

They are the same.

One can not live without the other.

Shooter and I decided to go to the food court for lunch on the weekend. With The Boy in tow and a vibrancy in our step, we were hanging for some good 'ole fish and chips. The pram was left at home so the kid could run his hearts content up and down the many aisles. We explored the various shops with it's glorious colours and noted in our heads the Christmas Gift shopping list. We carted too and from the abundance of the crowd.

Until we hit the DVD shop.

And The Boy spotted it, right down on the bottom shelf.

A Wiggles DVD. The four blokes and their skivvies.

And he had to have it. Grabbed it and walked off staring at it, oblivious to the nearby escalator. Consumed with it's front cover images.

We tried to pry it out of his small hands. Distract him with something else.

We tried.

Then the hysterics started. The screaming, stamping, epileptic "I'm being murdered" tantrum began.

Eyes bulging, mouth wide open with foam pouring from the sides and a ferocious cry, legs kicking, shoes falling off. Helicopter twisting when I tried to grab his hand and lift him up. Pushing me away, running away crying "Wiggles Wiggles Wiggles". Tears that flooded his little face.

People staring, some giving me the look of understanding. Others with contempt. The rest just laughed.

I felt like this:

We gave in of course. $20 later. Who the fuck puts children's DVD's on the bottom shelf?

Next time I go to the shopping centre, I'll be wearing this:

I've got to hand it to the kid though, he did put on a marvelous performance!

Image credit here

Guest Post on Martyr-hood

2011-08-11T11:28:00.001+10:00

Today I'm guest posting on Marty-hood. Romina has a history of infertility and recently welcomed her 4th child to the miracle list. She's currently on a maternity blogging leave break and asked me to help keep her blog alive.

My post centres on the issue that is close to my heart and plagues me on a regular basis. Compared to Romina's abundance of children, my post is regarding One Child Families.

Check is out HERE...

A Blog With Substance Award

2011-08-08T17:05:00.001+10:00

The lovely Chhandita from As Good as It Gets? recently awarded me. I am very humbled to receive this considering that I am not a regular blogger let alone that my blog has any substance.

I've lately been reading Mel Ford's Stirrup Queens blog where in her latest post she writes about her experience at the BlogHer conference. One sentence that made me wake up and confirm why I blog was this: " I do the unpaid, sometimes unappreciated work for the human connection." Human connection - how odd that I feel the same way. How odd that I need to connect with humans as I type on a keyboard, oblivious to the outside world where real humans lurk. My time to write and express about my son's milestones, history with infertility, heartbreaks and other ponderings.

Has my life really resorted to sitting here alone, hoping that some human will connect with me?

Mel was mainly referring to the connections she has made in real life because of blogging; however for me her sentence defines it so much in what I feel.

I write because I like it. I know that I have improved in my writing. I will never be an author. I may have been born in Australia and English I consider as my first language now, but I never grew up surrounded by anyone academic to assist me with homework or encourage me in my educational endeavours. My parents are migrants with very little English and their existence is based on work ethics. I suffered in school because of my illiteracy and lack of support.

I've come a long way though. But does my blog have substance? What's the point sometimes? I often think that if I started writing a blog during my infertility years I would likely have tripled my followers and readership and no doubt the comments would be in 20+ range regularly if I was posting about my sufferings and negativity towards the fertile world. Later, it would have dwindled to nearly nothingness once I became pregnant or god-forbid had peace and resolution in the journey.

I blog to remember and to note some portions of my life. In the following months my posts will be a series of my mums beautiful Greek recipes. To remember, to record how she cooks so that I will continue her legacy and our culture.

I think then my blog will have substance. At least on the culinary perspective.

The rules are simple:
Name 7 random things about yourself and nominate 7 bloggers.

1. I pick my nose in public on the train. I don't care who's watching. When that booger needs to come out it bloody will, tissue or not.
2. If I was born male I would have been named Lambros after my grandfather (typical Greek tradition)
3. I can't swim properly. If the earth flooded I would definitely drown.
4. I have mild obsessive compulsive disorder - I'm a clean freak and always straighten photo frames or art pieces in other people's homes. So if you invite me over, make sure they are straight!
5. I got the cane in primary school when I was 6 because I threw rocks at the maintenance man. Even then I knew he was a dirty old man.
6. I once closed the door on my best friends fingers.. on purpose.. because she was giving me the shits.
7. I have had scabies, nasty little fuckers that I caught from homeless kids when I worked in the crisis refuge.

I enjoy reading every single blog that I follow and those that are in my Top Blog section are fantastic. Although the ones that I believe deserve some recognition, attention and what I truly believe have substance; are the ones that make the effort for others. The ones who find the time to not only read but to actually sign in and bother to write a comment.

Nothing bitchy about that paragraph, just a reality that there are still some of us still here, writing and ~~wanting~~ needing that human connection.

1. InfertiliTEE
2. My Path to Insanity and Beyond - My TTC Journey
3. A Half Baked Life
4. Love and other Drugs
5. One Perfect Emby
6. Who Said 3 is a Crowd?
7. A Year On.. a New Beginning

Other substance-worthy blogs include: madambipolar for her amazing insight and first person account of living with bipolar disorder and the immeasurable support and information she offers her readers. Theres' also Maybe Baby (or Maybe the Loony Bin)? and Marty-hood who are recently on maternity leave but still worth the read.

How 4 Men In Skivvies Forced A Laid Back Chick Like Me To Become A Manic Mum

2011-08-01T16:11:00.003+10:00

The Wiggles are coming to town.

They're celebrating 20 years of skivvy wearing finesse. The Boy ~~loves~~ worships them. At least once a day, he will ask me to pop on their DVD as he jumps with excitement when the opening credits roll and the finger dancing begins.

I love them too, not for the fun but because for about an hour I can sit and watch my son's smile and captivation of the screen whilst I slurp slowly on my coffee. I'm looking foward to their concert and observing how he inhales the excitement of the silly yet catchy songs, the frivolity of the dancing, the colourful lights and sensational characters as well as soaking in the breathtaking crowds.

In five minutes the Sydney concerts were sold out.

About 20 years ago I was that skinny girl with the long brown hair, stone washed jeans with holes in the knees and a black Bonds t-shirt; who camped outside the local shopping centre with her steadfast mates, a six-pack of beers and a torn sleeping bag; waiting for Ticketek to open its doors for us to buy front row tickets to Pearl Jam or Faith No More, U2 or Alice in Chains. I was so close to the stage once that Anthony Kiedis from the Red Hot Chili Peppers blew me a kiss.

Well I think it was me that he was eyeing.

Today, as I tuck my tummy inside my waist high jeans, pick the nanna undies from my fat arse and tie my receding long brown hair in to a knot on my head, I feed The Boy and wash the dishes and wait till 9am. The sleepless night before was not because I was drunk with excitement or a mouth sore from laughing so much but because The Boy had a booger-fest party in his nose that kept me up, hourly checks on his breathing and tightly tucking him in to his blankie. My eye on the clock, stressed and panicky. Worried that I would miss out on tickets. The clock chimed exactly at 9am and I ran to the phone and dialled the number. Tickets bought with a credit card.

All grown up now, excited to take my child to HIS first concert.

I Made An Old Lady Cry

2011-07-19T15:43:00.000+10:00

I am fortunate to have a loving family. Not only the miracle of my son who entered the little family Shooter and I created but also my extended family. My parents, my sister and the few relatives and friends who harmonise in our existence.

My parents recently moved close to me to help babysit The Boy whilst I work part time. The bus stop is conveniently across the road from them. The bus that takes me to the train station that I catch to go to work.

The bus stop where I met Kate.

A little old lady in her late 60's. Shopping bag with wheels in tow; whose been meaning to drop in to the "loud old Greeks" a few doors down to welcome them to the neighbourhood and maybe steal a recipe or two of baklava and kataifi.

As we shook hands, introduced ourselves and exchanged the few pleasantries, Kate asked me if I had children. I haven't been asked that question in a while. I beamed, and answered yes and described what my little fella looked like. The words he has learned and the sentences he now constructs together. The toys he likes and how much he loves his grandparents. I can't catch a breath when I talk about my son. After all, he took a long time to find me and I deserve to relish in my achievement. Kate smiled and delicately said "that I am blessed with a true miracle" something she has never had the pleasure of having.

I just met another woman who has experienced infertility.

Kate was brought up by two loving parents and 3 other children in her family. She grew up and accomplished as a secretary and married a hard working man. She suffered 2 ectopic pregnancies, several operations, lost a fallopian tube and then eventually a hysterectomy. She was married for 20 years and then he left her. She lives alone now, on the pension and loves her gardening. Her siblings are estranged from her. Her nephew and nieces live in Queensland. She sees them rarely. Kate tried for many years to have children. She described to me the heartache and especially the stigma that she felt in a society that revered mothers, in a time where 4 children were the norm and working women were shunned. Fertility assistance like IVF didn't exist then. If it did, it would have been in the experimental stages where only the comfortably rich could afford it.

I then felt compelled to tell her about my IF journey, not for pretentious reasons but just so she knew that it was difficult for me to have children too and that her comment about him being a miracle rang more true. I acknowledged her discomfort talking about this issue and could empathise with her history.

I could see her eyes become watery and then she reached to her bag and grabbed a tissue to wipe the tear that had just trickled down her cheek. In that moment, I could have put on my counsellor hat on and leaned back, actively listened and nodded, but instead I grabbed her and hugged her and cried with her. The other passengers on the bus would have been oblivious to the fact that we were 2 women who had only just met, from dissimilar religions and cultures and distinctive generations, yet one identifiable factor joined us - infertility.

I survived, she didn't. To this very day she feels pain. To this very day she wishes her life had been blessed with a child. To this very day she cries for what she doesn't have.

My heart bleeds. If only I can describe to you how my heart and soul aches for Kate. Only a few of you will understand.

Let it be written... again - that I appreciate what I have in my life.

We are thrown many obstacles and experiences in our life. Open your eyes and you will see the truth. Appreciate what you have.

I will never forget Kate and I know where she lives.

“Blessed is the influence of one true, loving human soul on another.” ~ George Eliot

Happy "1st" Birthday Blog

2011-07-11T17:29:00.000+10:00

You started as a seed. A true story of infertility and hope. Reaching out to people who were searching for information and inspiration for their own journey.

The blog remained stagnant for a few months, just a page and a blot in the blogosphere. An amateur at writing but with many stories, feelings and thoughts that needed to escape from the head and be written.

The seed was planted and you were born. You wrote about your sister that garnered thoughtful comments.

You teased us with recipes of sweets that formed pools of drool on the floor.

A makeover made you look pretty.

Parenting after Infertility added you to the Stirrup Queen's Roll Call. This post and this one brought you new followers and readers.

Your fat bum series caused many to smile at your adventures of shedding the kilo's, though it has been suggested that a finale is on the horizon.

Your head ballooned to a double size as you were awarded for being versatile and stylish.

You hosted a baby shower for a special friend who battled infertility and now holds her precious son in her arms and is trying to get him to latch on to her boobies.

The month of June was your saddest as the tears continue to flow for a friend who lost her life to mental illness and another friend who lost her baby.

You remembered our soldiers whilst remembering your experience with infertility and busted a myth.

You are proud to be a working mother.

Your favourite posts though would have to be about your son. His eyes and his stickiness.

How odd that you share your name with an American baseball movie. It's as boring as Cricket. But you're not boring, no not to me sweet pea.

You are still looking for that perfect bag.

Although you are not a regular poster and you do not blog for profit, I thank you for your insight, knowledge and humour. May you celebrate the day feeling all warm and fuzzy. Happy Birthday and now let's eat cake!

Sydney For Under Fives Book Giveaway

2011-06-30T11:54:00.008+10:00

Thank you to everyone who left warm and thoughtful comments on my previous post as well as the many emails of support. I'm dealing with the situation as best as I can, but life must go on for those who are living. My friend will always be in my thoughts and I will remember her for her enormous smile, kindness and friendship.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I'm happy to present to you today this amazing book written by mum of 4 children, TV producer and author Seanna Smith. I first saw the book 'Sydney for Under Fives' reviewed in Babyology and just had to grab a copy of it. I found that once my son became a toddler and I couldn't amuse him with rattles anymore, I had to get my skates on and open the front door and show him the wonders of the world. But what do you do and where do you go? Where I live is an assortment of playgrounds and activities but some of them get quite tedious and boring. We had to explore! This book once in my hands opened so many options of fun, educational and interesting activities. It also allowed me to consider visiting some suburbs of Sydney I have never been to.

Seanna kindly donated 2 books for me to the giveaway on my blog. This is a fantastic book for any Sydney resident who has exhausted their own neighbourhoods and is in need of exploring new places. Or it could be an eye-opener to a playground just around the corner you never knew existed. The book can also be a fantastic gift to give to anyone thinking of travelling to Sydney or knowing someone who lives in Sydney and needs to get outside with their children and start enjoying life.

I'm looking forward to summer and I'm sure my son is going to appreciate it too.

Here's an extract about the book:

"Sydney For Under Fives is the best guide to family-friendly places in Sydney. Whether you’re pushing a baby, holding the hand of a toddler or chasing after a preschooler, this is the guidebook every family needs.

Find all the top spots for tots; cafes and restaurants, swimming pools, play centres, safe beaches and dozens of fantastic playgrounds, plus baby-friendly cinemas, art galleries, museums and more. The book details over 300 places which are great to visit with your kids".

Chapter 1. Cafes and Restaurants with Kids
Chapter 2. Best Beaches, Baths and Ocean Pools
Chapter 3. Family-friendly Swimming Pools
Chapter 4. Animals Fierce and Furry
Chapter 5. Playgrounds Deluxe
Chapter 6. Soft Play and Play Centres
Chapter 7. Culture for Kids and Carers
Chapter 8. Stroller Walks to Stretch the Legs
Chapter 9. Public Transport
Chapter 10. The Joy of Playgroup
Chapter 11. Showtime! Music, Theatre and More
Chapter 12. Borrowing Books and Toys
Chapter 13. Baby-friendly Cinemas and Screenings

To enter is quite easy. Become a follower, leave a comment and tell me what your favourite activity is with your children. Please also ensure that your comment leads to your blog or provide your contact to your comment so I can contact you if you are a winner. You do not need to be a blogger; anonymous comments are welcome as long as you let me know who you are and leave a contact in the comment or directly to my email (found in my profile page) The winners will be drawn randomly out of a hat!

Australian residents only can enter.
Competition ends 15th July 2011.

Welcoming ICLW & Thank You Rows of Remembrance

2011-06-20T13:12:00.003+10:00

It's been a while since I participated in ICLW. I'm looking forward to reading your blogs. For the new readers - I'm a mum to a gorgeous yet naughty swearing cheeky little man who is nearly 2. He came in to my life after 6 years of infertility. A hard, frustrating and amusing road of assisted conception treatments that failed, a diagnosis and the surgical removal of endometriosis, a miscarriage, drinking disgusting Chinese herbs and then I ah hum, yeah relaxed. Well not quite. My clacker still had the cervical mucous check, the toilet paper inspection cycle. It was the month I let go of negativity and accepted my fate. It also included living healthy - gym and food and finding my spirituality.

My blog started as an avenue for other IF women to read about my journey and hopefully glean some information and hope for their journey. It continues to reach out to the blogosphere as a means of support as well as writing about a slice of my life - as a working mother, as a trying-to-lose-weight woman in her late 30's, as a One Child Family, as an amateur writer and as a parent after experiencing IF.

So grab yourself a few timtams and a cuppa. Put up your feet and relax and read about my adventures.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I would also like to take this opportunity to thank Rows for Remembrance for recently posting me my crotchet little blanket in acknowledgement of my miscarriage in June 2008.

"Rows for Remembrance was created to minister to mothers and fathers who are sometimes forgotten in traditional ministry. Some parents never hold a baby in their arms, but forever hold them in their hearts. This ministry is designed to bring them a way of remembering their little ones, no matter how short the time they were carried with them.

Rows for Remembrance strives to bring hope to families who feel like their world is crashing around them. We also strive to provide a lasting memory as a comfort to the families we call our Angel Families.

If you would like to help, please see our How To Help page. If you would like to receive a blanket in memory of your child, please see our Apply For A Blanket page."

It Ends With Something Sweet

2011-06-17T17:22:00.005+10:00

The Sydney wind blew my perfectly straight hair today into a fuzz ball. It usually hangs long down to my waist. I’m scared to comb it for fear the whole lot gets pulled out. As I get older the hair falls out and I’ve noticed wrinkles on my olive skin face. Some I recognise from a bygone era of smoking the Winnie Blues. Others have recently introduced themselves to me. Hello Arseholes. I look out the window and know that I live in Australia. My eucalyptus tree needs some loving. Like my hair, its branches hang long and low kissing the aloe vera pot. There’s no koala in there though. She died of syphilis. Poor love.

My memory is also starting to fade. I’m not sure whether it’s because I am getting older or because I’m a parent now - a repercussion of pregnancy maybe? I know there’s plenty to do – laundry, cooking, dishes, and mopping but all I can think of right now is my son. The little guy who still says “no” to everything. Yet his vocabulary in English and Greek is so advanced. He can say and point to all his body parts in both languages. Parrots and understands all our words. He (not surprisingly) has caught on to the 'fuck' word. Not just your usual fuck – a drop in the ocean kind of thing. No, the fuck when he crashes his trike into the wall or drops his juice on the floor. Yeah that one. The emotion filled "I did a doozy but I know I shouldn't say it" fuck. He also has this ridiculous almost obsessive fascination for The Wiggles. “Wiggles, Wiggles, Dorothy, Wags, Henry, Wiggles, Toot Toot, Big Wed Car, Woogles”. I hear this every day, almost all day. He is relentless in his pursuit to force me to pop on any one of their DVD’s. The fucking colourful skivvy wearing Wiggles. Or better known as The Cockroaches back in the 80’s.

I can’t remember the last time I read a book from beginning to end. I have so many sitting on the bookshelf begging and pleading for me to crack their spines, flick the insects and delight in its words. Anything recent that resembles a book was to review BabyCentre’s Pregnancy Book – a favour for the editor and now in a plane heading towards a dear pregnant friends hands. I highly recommend it. I might just have to lock the bathroom door, sink into the bathtub, let off a soap bomb and pour a glass of red wine. Anything to help me unwind and to remember to be me again.

How is it possible that my beautiful mother, who is heading towards her 60’s and babysits my son 3 days a week. Puts up with the old man’s bitching and my younger sisters whingeing. Does all the housework because that’s what good-Greek-women-do yet can still pull off this delicious tasty treat for us to eat?

I’m definitely from a different generation.

KATAIFI - καταϊφι (Almond & Walnut Syrup Pastries)

Makes
18

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups almonds, skin on, roughly chopped
• 1/4 cup caster sugar
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/2 cup fresh white breadcrumbs
• 2 teaspoons vanilla sugar
• 1 egg, lightly beaten
• 375g packet kataifi pastry
• 250g unsalted butter, melted
• Syrup
• 1 lemon
• 4 cups white sugar
• 1/2 cup honey
• 1 cinnamon stick
• 6 whole cloves

Method

1. Preheat oven to 200°C. Lightly grease a 2cm deep, 24cm x 30cm (base) slab pan. Combine almonds, sugar, cinnamon, breadcrumbs, vanilla sugar and egg in a bowl. Mix until well combined.

2. Lightly pull pastry apart. Place on a plate. Cover with a damp tea towel to prevent pastry drying out. Using 1/2 cup tightly-packed pastry, spread strands out to a 7cm-wide, 30cm-long strip. Lightly brush with butter.

3. Place 1 tablespoon almond mixture along short end of pastry closest to you. Roll up tightly and place in pan. Repeat with remaining pastry, butter and filling, leaving 1cm between rolls. Bake for 35 minutes or until golden.

4. Make syrup: Meanwhile, peel 1 large strip of rind from lemon and remove pith. Juice lemon. Place lemon rind, 1/4 cup lemon juice, sugar, honey, cinnamon stick, cloves and 2 cups cold water in a small saucepan over medium heat. Cook, stirring often, for 5 minutes or until sugar has dissolved. Increase heat to high. Bring to the boil. Reduce heat to medium-low. Simmer for 20 minutes or until syrup thickens slightly.

5. Drizzle hot syrup over warm pastries. Allow to cool completely. Serve.

Enjoy! I know I will ....with my red wine.

“My creed is that; Happiness is the only good. The place to be happy is here. The time to be happy is now. The way to be happy is to make others so.” ~ Robert Green Ingersoll.

Sending Out Some Love - (Semi) Wordless Wednesday

2011-06-15T11:07:00.001+10:00

There's been too much sorrow these last few weeks. Miscarriage, loss, failed cycles, relationship breakdowns. Estranged relationships between mothers and daughters. Odd mother in laws. Even a soon-to-be birth hasn't gone to plan. Pregnancy bleedings and writers block. Anxiety.

Some blogs remind me of old Western Movies - tumbleweeds blazing through and a whistling wind for company. Emails unanswered. Questions still hanging in the air.

People need their space.

However, there are still those like me, hoping that you are OK. All I can do is show you a picture just so you know that I am thinking of you and care.

A Book Giveaway Winner

2011-06-06T10:59:00.004+10:00

Thank you to everyone who left lovely comments on this post and for participating in The Infertility Handbook giveaway.

Without further adieu, the winner is:

One Perfect Emby

Enjoy the book and I hope the information and support it offers finally delivers you a baby in your arms. I wish you all the best in this IF journey. For those who missed out, the link is on the left sidebar if you would like to purchase the book. I highly recommend it!

I'll be having another book giveaway very soon. Seanna Smith who wrote Sydney for Under Fives has kindly offered 2 books. For a sneak peak, go here.

Thank you to everyone who left beautiful and supportive comments on this post. Miscarriage has always been a taboo subject and I hope some understanding of it has been explained as well as providing much needed love and support for its survivors. There are many organisations both here in Australia (bottom left sidebar) and overseas if you would like to find out more information or need help and support.

My IF Journey Success Story is also featured in Stree Free Infertility. Please go and check it out and read other wonderful women's success stories too.

I'm taking a short break from blogging as I've been invited to do a guest post on Marty-hood and need to get my motivation on. I've also been invited to put in a submission to hopefully acquire a paid writing opportunity in an upcoming blogazine. So we'll see how that pans out. I need help with ideas on topics! I seriously need some inspiration and more time!

I'll still be reading your blogs and my comments will still be rolling.

See you soon.

(If you've been having issues with commenting on blogger, the following has been suggested by the Blogger Hotline: Don't tick the 'stay signed in' box when you sign in. Go to 'tools', click on the 'delete browsing history' - tick all the boxes - press 'delete'. Or download google chrome)

Another Dedication, To You Dear Chon

2011-06-02T15:34:00.004+10:00

Please be advised that the following post will contain memories and description of miscarriage and thoughts of suicide and feelings of depression. This post is brutally honest and has no intention of offence but to allow someone dear to me to know that I understand and acknowledge what she is going through.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I know it was very hard for Tee to write her post. She told me she couldn't, but I am proud of her that she did. If there was going to be anyone who acknowledged Chon's miscarriage first in a post it would be her. Tee your heart is so strong and honest considering you have your own battle to win against infertility and miscarriage. Your friendship is immeasurable. I'm glad that if ever life throws something horrible to me, you will be there with your everlasting support and love.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dear Chon,

I woke up to the news via a sms that you were bleeding. My heart sank yet I held on to hope. Hope that it was just an implantation bleed and the little bean burrowing in to your uterus, making itself comfortable. I know you laughed when I sms you the term "fanny fart" as an explanation of pressure being released. I thought my stupid humour would at least make you smile, just for a moment, amongst the anxiety and sadness you were feeling.

A day later it was all over. Any inkling I had of hope was destroyed by reading your post. Your blood levels were not reflective of a pregnancy, the ultrasound did not detect a fetus. I was shattered and knew exactly how you were feeling. I felt useless sitting in Sydney reading your news, all I wanted to do was run, run as fast as I could to Melbourne and hug you. Emails and sms just doesn't justify the connection, but it was all I had to show my support and understanding.

I know that feeling. I know the minute it was confirmed that you were pregnant, all you wanted to do was hide and maybe camp out in a cave for the next 9 months until that kid was born. After all these years of trying, the IVF treatments and transfers and the endless operations just didn't qualify you as a happy fertile who jumped with glee and rang the world of your news. A stolen hug and kiss with your husband - he feels the same as you - the excitement of the extended family. In my case, my mother cranked up the Greek music and bellydanced her heart out. You were happy to see their happiness but deep down in your soul you were not ready to celebrate. No not like any other fertile woman. Infertility robbed you of that.

I know that feeling. The blood, some cramps. Those pregnancy symptoms diminished. Women's intuition - you just knew. But like a robot, you went to get the bloods and the scan, craving for hope. Praying to God that there was just a glitch in the system. You were prepared to deal with a difficult pregnancy, just as long as there were signs of life.

At 6 weeks 1 day, my bleeds started and faded and started again. At the hospital my hcg levels had wavered. There was no increase but the nurse had optimism. The radiologist didn't, the heartbeat was only 72 - anything over 100 was considered viable. At 6 weeks 6 days I saw it, it looked like a little kidney. Fell out of me into my hand. Covered in blood. I wrapped it with a tissue and buried it with my dog. They could at least play in heaven together. 6 weeks, 6 days, 6 years of IF, Friday the 13th. The devil entered my life.

I know that feeling. Carrying a fetus, my baby - it was dieing. I knew it was dieing, its heartbeat decreasing as I watched TV. I knew what was going on inside me. Waiting for something to fucking happen.

After all these years of infertility to finally kick the goal and then the trophy be taken away from you. It utterly sucks. Suicide was my first thought. Crawling into a dark hole and just withering into nothing. Death seemed so much more simpler than telling my husband and my parents that it was all over. But it doesn't end in just tears does it?

I know that feeling. Dark thoughts and paranoia - I will never be a mother now. Miscarriage added to my Resume of Failure. Walking around like a zombie - household chores tick, work tick, cook dinner tick, go shopping tick - see a baby in a pram - cry tick. And lets do that all over again....Waiting for my period to return. Waiting for another cycle to begin. Waiting - what do I do now?

And then I found them - Ree, Kelly and Felicity. I've never acknowledged them till now. Other women who survived miscarriage. The website we both know about - the Miscarriage Support Board. They picked me up on fucked up days, they made me laugh. Most of all they knew and they were there. It was because of their support and encouragement that I survived too.

One of them asked me once - Do you still want to be a mother? Yes I replied.

"Then get your skates on. You can grieve for your little one. Never to be forgotten. You were pregnant, but now you are a mother to an angel and one day you will be a mother to a live and healthy baby. There is still hope."

You know how my story ends. I know we are not the same and my experience is not yours. But my heart aches for you, we are sisters now more so than ever.

Your journey does not end here.

Please grieve, be sad, hate the world. Let those tears flow. Don't you dare feel guilty though - you are not to blame. Connect with the support that is surrounding you and loving you. Find other survivors and most importantly, if it gets too tough get counselling. I did and it did help me acknowledge my experience and focus on my next steps towards motherhood.

I really care for you mate. I know we haven't met in real life but we will one day. And that day will be glorious, because you are my friend.

Love Athena.

"My little one

You have left us too soon

Though my body can no longer hold you

I hold you forever in my heart

As precious and beautiful as this flower caught in time

A mother's love does not forget"

~ Author Unknown

"Take It, If You Must, This Little Bag of Dreams"

2011-05-27T14:58:00.003+10:00

My bum is still fat. Sitting on this hard surface of a public transport train seat is more comfortable with a cushiony arse. Looking out the dirty windows as I depart home, leaving the tree covered hills behind. The brown fallen leaves rustle and the frosty chill of Autumn weather hugs me. It's nice sitting here. So quiet. A seat to myself to sprawl on. The carriage is empty - I pick my nose, finger the Best n Less undies out of my crack, daydream about handsome naked men and sipping cocktails by a lagoon. No interruption apart from an abrupt wake up of the train guards inaudible announcement.

Did I tell you it was quiet?

No kid here. Here no kid.

The parentals packed up their tiny City flat and moved to my neck of the woods. Post-retirement for the two of them so they can be close to their grandson. A grandson my mum babysat after hauling him and travelling nearly 2 hours to get to her home in the City. Now it's a 20 minute walk. Down the road, turn right and we are at their cottage style home with petunia's greeting you in the front garden.

How fucking great is that?

But today's post is actually about my bag. It sits beside me on the train seat. My mate for one and a half whole years. A nappy backpack. It still contains the contents of a nappy, wipes, a dummy and bum lotion. My diary, my medications, books, wallet, deodorant, old train tickets, pens, Libra pads and lip gloss. Scattered items I haven't bothered to throw out.

I'm a part time working woman now with no toddler travelling with me. Most items in this bag are irrelevant. When I was pregnant I indulged in an Oi Oi Nappy Bag that set me back $220. I used it for 3 months. It was useless. Bulky, impractical. Gorgeous but stupid. The strap hurt my arm. It unbalanced me as I held the kid. It stuck out hanging on the pram. Fucking annoying expensive yet gorgeous piece of crap.

The backpack was cheap and functional. I carried it on my back or hung it from the pram and it suited my lifestyle. I will still use it now till the kid starts using a toilet. It will continue to accompany us when we go out to visit friends or play at the park or go shopping.

So I need a new bag for work. Something conducive yet cool. Something to go with my youth worker attitude. Funky jeans and black tops. Zierra shoes and long brown hair with a touch of cherry lip gloss.

I feel like this chick flooded with too many options. Or is it a bloke? Nevermind.

If you have any suggestions, let me know. Unless someone wants to buy me this Chanel Diamond Encrusted number.

What the flying fuck is this?

Louis Vuitton Urban Satchel Tote Bag.

Apparently it's in the Top 10 of the most expensive bags in the world. I can make this myself - someone pass me the Winnie Blues and used tampons.

The Infertility Handbook

2011-05-20T11:58:00.001+10:00

I get this question asked very often.

Why do you still associate yourself with infertile?

Before I could answer, I get the torrent of ignorant and discerning judgements thrown at me. "You have a kid now, your posts should be about raindrops, lollipops and soft cuddly squishy kittens." In fact Shooter himself raised his eyebrows once at me when I mentioned that some of my posts are IF related.

It's like all of a fucking sudden I'm supposed to ignore or forget.

I don't thrust myself in the IF community. On the contrary my Top Blogs are a colourful mixture of motherhood, humour, fashion, art and IF (pre & post) I comment on them often.

Am I supposed to just sit back and pretend that all went well in my life? Especially the hardest and toughest challenge in my life?

My contribution to IF these days are my few random posts which are a reminder yet therapy for letting go of the anger, guilt and sadness. However IF changed me. It also provided me with some positives too. I know that I am a better person - stronger, patient, humorous. IF also provided me with some very special friends. Some over the trenches, some still within enemy lines. Letting go of IF means letting go of them.

That. Will. Never. Happen.

So you ask a question I can not really answer. IF was and is part of my life. How can I look at my son now and not remember nor acknowledge what I went through? I'm not bitter anymore. However the information I have built over these years - from the best angle of jabbing needles in to a flabby tummy to the creamy delicacies of the vag - How can I not share this priceless knowledge?

I was infertile. But I am still part of a wonderful community.

To honour my pledge to help those still in the trenches, I'm having a book giveaway.

The Infertility Handbook by Angela Hutchins

"This is the essential reference book for couples diagnosed with infertility. It covers everything from understanding your reproductive cycle to what your options are if a biological child is not possible. The causes of infertility — both male and female — are examined, treatment options are explained, and a wide range of support services is included. Where appropriate, chapters include focus boxes written by a leading expert in the relevant field. Importantly, The Infertility Handbook is written clearly and simply with the sensitivity and knowledge of a person who has been there. It aims to provide options at a time when people may feel they have none and understanding at a time when people can often feel cut off from their normal support network."

www.infertilityhandbook.com.au

I highly recommend Angela's book. She is a fellow Australian and her IF journey scarily resembles mine in many ways - 6 years of IF, unsuccessful IVF and FET's, miscarriages and now 2 children as a result of Chinese herbs.

If you would like to win this book, all you have to do is the following:

1. Become a follower.
2. Leave me a comment.

Simple. Even if you are not experiencing IF or embarking on assisted reproductive treatments, maybe someone you know may appreciate and benefit from reading this. The winner will be randomly picked from a bit of paper in a hat. Nothing fancy.

Competition ends Friday, 3rd June 2011.

(Please note, if you are not from Australia or New Zealand some sections will not be relevant as it lists organisations and services within these countries)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A SHOUT OUT to these amazing IF women

Chon - who is one vein away from having a blood test to confirm whether her recent FET was successful.

Tee - Is hoping her fat arse is a result from the effects of her first official Clomid cycle and the old cow aunt flow stays the fuck away.

New Year Mum - is nursing a cold and worried that her recent FET will be affected by this virus.

Ants- who recently got her Big Fat Positive after IVF is experiencing bleeding, however each blood test and scan shows a healthy bean but the fear and anxiety still lingers.

Haidee - who is in the single digits and counting down to the birth of her first child after IVF.

Krista - who recently got a chemical pregnancy and is taking time off the blogs and reassessing her journey

TasiIVFer - who is reaching her milestones day by day and is currently 27 weeks pregnant after 15 stim IVF cycles and a donor egg.

Congratulations

To NIK - for her recent positive pregnancy test after IVF and HONEY - for the birth of her son, a miracle after several IVF's and miscarriages.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"The great question that has never been answered, and which I have not yet been able to answer, despite my thirty years of research into the feminine soul, is What does a woman want?" ~ Sigmund Freud

"A fucking baby Sigmund" ~ A Field of Dreams

Haidee's Gifts - A Virtual Baby Shower

2011-05-19T01:00:00.062+10:00

Welcome to my humble abode.

Here have some melomakarona. Greek Honey Cookies made from walnuts. Melomakarona (Mελομακάρονα) are a traditional Greek biscuit that are usually given to guests after a baby is born. Most Greeks don't visit you in hospital, they prefer the comfort of your home, a sticky beak into the gifts you have already received and a warm beverage.
Enjoy!

Delicious? You can view the recipe here

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dear Haidee,
We would all love to wish you the safe arrival of your son.
May he be born sweet, kind, healthy and beautiful just like you.

Gifts from your friends in the blogosphere:

A Half Baked Life

A Year On..Our New Beginning Hopefully

InfertiliTEE

My Path to Insanity and Beyond..My TTC Journey

Making Baby Giraffes

One Perfect Emby

As Good As it Gets?

Stress Free Infertility

Love & Other Drugs

Pursuing Parenthood
Domestic Delusions
Who said 3 is a Crowd?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

MY GIFTS:

A poem:

"God made a wonderful mother,

A mother who never grows old;

He made her smile of the sunshine,

And He moulded her heart of pure gold;

In her eyes He placed bright shining stars,

In her cheeks fair roses you see;

God made a wonderful mother,

And He gave that dear mother to me"

~ Pat O'Reilly

The BEST book of all time
Printed in 1969.
Regardless of the baby's age,
reading him a book is great in setting up a sleep routine.

UGG Boots for bub - An Australian gift.

A voucher for 'Victoria's Secrets'

because even if you are post-pregnancy,

you should feel sexy and beautiful all the time.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Claudia's Gifts:

The popular BUMBO!

Flanelette sheets for those cold New Zealand nights.

Just for you - Strawberries dipped in chocolate.

Thank you to everyone who participated in Haidee's Virtual Baby Shower.
Haidee experienced infertility for 3 years and after 3 cycles of IVF she will finally be welcoming her son in July 2011.

To read Haidee's journey, please go to her blog:
MAYBE BABY...(or Maybe the Loony Bin)?

You can still participate by leaving your link in the comments section!

Haidee's Virtual Baby Shower - UPDATE

2011-05-04T13:13:00.002+10:00

UPDATE:

This is a reminder to RSVP to this event by tonight! The blog links to Haidee's Virtual Baby Shower will be up around Thursday, 19th May (AEST).

Please also let me know if you can no longer participate by comment or email.

Thank you!

My Super Special virtual friend Haidee from Maybe Baby... (or Maybe the Loony Bin?) is expecting her first child in July. A fellow IFer who experienced 3 years of infertility and 3 cycles of IVF will finally welcome her son. I have known Haidee now for a few years after we met in cyberspace on a baby and trying to conceive forum. I was already a veteran at trying to conceive, in fact I only joined the forum when all of my failed assisted conception treatments were over and done with and I had gone on a break and was trying naturally again with the help of Chinese herbs. She was beginning her journey. Haidee was one of a few wonderful women who made the effort on a regular basis to reply to my comments or questions and always kept in touch with advice and support, even after I graduated to motherhood. She truly is a compassionate, supportive and caring person and most especially a beautiful friend.

I also know that she has touched many other women during their own IF journey.

I can't wait to meet you In Real Life Haidee.

I am proud and honoured to host her Virtual Baby Shower. Please show your support for this amazing person and also participate in this Virtual Baby Shower.

1. Please leave a comment on this blog post OR email me at: babyshowerhost@hotmail.com and let me know that you are participating/RSVPing to the event. You have till the 16th May (AEST) to let me know. Provide your blog link and any questions you may have.

2. As this is Virtual, all you need to do is pick a gift(s). On the 19th May (AEST) put up a blog post that is dedicated to Haidee's Baby Shower. Your gift could be anything. A photo of baby clothes, a poem, a recipe/picture of your favourite sweet, a picture of a cigar for her husband. Anything creative or unique. Remember as this is "Virtual" there is no budget limit.

3. On the 19th May (AEST) I will provide all your blog links on my blog. This will allow Haidee to link to your blog posts and "receive" her gifts. Please also take the time to visit these blogs yourself and have a gander at what everyone else has given.

If you do not have a blog, I am happy to host it for you along with mine. Please let me know.

Looking forward to hosting this for a very special friend. Please make the effort to participate as it's also an opportunity to network and follow other bloggers.

Thank you!

Reflections, An Award and a Virtual Baby Shower

2011-05-02T10:23:00.001+10:00

Thank you to all who participated in National Infertility Awareness Week. I've been enjoying reading all the posts floating out there. You can continue reading and supporting other Bust A Myth Blog Submissions at any time, click here.

Although this was not an Australian event, I felt compelled to submit my slice for this amazing and supportive community. Thank you to the bleeps who also made the effort and commented on my post. I must say that my head grows a few inches when comments to me are so full of praise and encouragement. However, I would love to know from bleeps who have not experienced IF what your thoughts and opinions are regarding my post or others you have read. It will be interesting to learn whether any myths were busted or what your take is on this community.

I wanted to also add that the last paragraph written Really. Did. Happen. The couple (of all people) are my brother in law and his wife. 2 people who were very aware of my infertility struggle and miscarriage. In fact, their third child was born the same day of my miscarriage which they ignored when they broadcasted the birth to us. Insensitive and careless arseholes.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I'm also very blessed and humbled. 5 inspiring and talented bloggers have awarded me with this Award:

Thank you to Tee from InfertiliTEE, New Year Mum from A Year On... Our New Beginning (Hopefully), Ants from Making Baby Giraffes, C from As Good As It Gets? and Pursuing Parenthood. Please check out their blogs for they provide me with some valuable support and inspiration.

Sorry I've been slack in acknowledging this award sooner. I've been in a rut and can't even begin to think of something useful, let alone as the rules state, 7 things about me. However, here's something interesting about me. I'm a Pisces and this summarises me perfectly:

"Pisceans possess a gentle, patient, malleable nature. They have many generous qualities and are friendly, good natured, kind and compassionate, sensitive to the feelings of those around them, and respond with the utmost sympathy and tact to any suffering they encounter. They are deservedly popular with all kinds of people, partly because their easygoing, affectionate natures offer no threat or challenge to stronger and more exuberant characters. They accept the people around them and the circumstances in which they find themselves rather than trying to adapt them to suit themselves. They are more readily concerned with the problems of others than with their own."

Fucking oath. That's me.

Consequently, I award those on my Top Blogs list rather than choosing 10 blogs or is it 15 or 25? Check the side bar. Yeah yeah, lazy arse slacker that I am. Boo Fucking Hoo. "I vow to be a better blogger when I displace the proverbial stick out of my bum."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Now lets get to the best part of this blog post.

My super gorgeous and super special virtual friend Haidee from Maybe Baby... (or Maybe the Loony Bin?) is expecting her first child. A fellow IFer who experienced 3 years of infertility and 3 cycles of IVF will finally welcome her son in July 2011. I first met Haidee on an online forum a few years ago. I was already a veteran at trying to conceive. She was starting out. Our differences connected us, but as a result we now share similar experiences. I see her as a true friend. Compassionate, supportive, caring and non-judgemental. One day I will finally meet and visit her and her baby in New Zealand. One day...

I am proud and honoured to host her Virtual Baby Shower.

This is how it's going to work. Please read the following if you have also linked in from Haidee's blog and would like to participate:

1. Email me at babyshowerhost@hotmail.com and let me know that you are participating/RSVPing to the event. Put "Haidee's Virtual Baby Shower" in the subject section. You have 2 weeks to do so. Deadline is the 16th May (AEST). Please provide your blog link only and any questions you may have.

2. Pick a gift, any special gift(s) you would love to give to Haidee. It could be a picture/photo of an item of baby clothing from your favourite store, a photo/recipe of food or sweets you would put on the buffet table for us to share, or something completely unique for either baby or Haidee. Be as creative as you like.

3. On the 19th May (AEST) I will paste all your blog links on my blog. This will allow Haidee to let loose and link/explore/receive her gifts at her leisure. Please have your blog post available on this date dedicating it to Haidee for her Virtual Baby Shower. Please also take the time to visit these blogs and have a gander at what everyone else has given.

If you do not have a blog, I am happy to host it for you along with mine. Please let me know by email.

That's All Folks.

Looking forward to hosting this for a beautiful person. I can't wait to see all the gifts! (Excuse the mess when you come over. The Boy has taken to yoghurt drawings on the walls)

"Just Relax" - (Lest I Forget)

2011-04-25T09:49:00.005+10:00

National Infertility Awareness Week 24-30 April 2011.

I humbly present to you my submission for the Bust an Infertility Myth Blog Challenge. If you would like to participate, go here.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I remember my kitchen floor quite well.

It has grey/white tiles with fancy swirls. It's hard and cold. There are a few small cracks and chips on some of the edges, little consequences of clumsiness with saucepans and hammers. There are also stains from nights of spaghetti bolognaise meals and a carcass of a cockroach still lingers.

I remember my kitchen floor. I spent many times lying on it crying. I waited all day to cry. Waited for the husband to leave on his errands so that I wouldn't involve him in my despair. My spirit cracked from a loss of courage and hope.

I waited 6 whole arduous years. I cried for 6 whole disheartened years.

Infertility Fucking Sucks.

I remember my fertility specialists rooms quite well.

An old federation house set in a leafy tree lined suburb. It's award winning gardens livened with brilliant colours of red, pink and yellow roses nestled amongst the magnificent purple hydrangeas. Inside the waiting room the attractive furniture invites you to sit on its Italian imported leather and dark oak lounges and chairs. In her consultation room a glorious Japanese Kimono hangs behind her like a Queen ready to address her subjects. The nursing stations are separated by fish tanks with various tropical fish swimming happily ready to greet you.

I remember my fertility specialist rooms. I spent 3 years as a patient undergoing 3 in uterine insemination's, blood tests, laparoscopy results, 2 IVF cycles, 3 frozen embryo cycles, urine tests, hormonal tests, ultrasounds and what the hell happened controversial discussions.

3 painful, anxious yet hopeful years of hormone injections in my stomach. Ultrasound dildo's modestly inserted in my vagina. Follicles galore, embryos grown in a petri dish, ovarian hyperstimulation, crazy moods and embryo transfers. Guilty and heartbroken feelings of watching the husband 'off his load' embarrassed and distressed in a darkened room with naughty magazines.

6 whole formidable years of pregnancy tests that came back negative. No explanation apart from a diagnosis of endometriosis that may have contributed to the outcome.

6 whole humiliating and bewildered years of a diminished faith and an empty wallet with no pregnancy or baby to show for it.

Infertility Fucking Sucks.

I remember the emergency department at the public hospital quite well.

It's bleak white walls. The several coughs and moaning pains of its inhabitants. The imprudent attitudes of it's medical staff. The dirty shit-stained toilet. My sad pale face and sullen eyes looking back at me in the graffitied mirror.

I remember that one night. A night of cramps and pain, a deep dull ache in my soul. Bleeding black clots. Red stained underwear. A relentless memory of drinking Chinese herbs from a straw to avoid it's potent disgusting taste. A quiet and happy yet short moment of seeing 2 lines on a pregnancy stick. One night is all it took to miscarry my beloved.

One lifetime to remember.

Infertility and Loss Fucking Sucks.

Do you still want to sit there with your smugness and painted thin lips whilst your designer dressed obnoxious children play at your feet and your fruitful yet soft cock husband delivers you a chardonnay and then you both broadcast and proclaim that my husband and I should "just relax"?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

To read other blog entries, Go here
Infertility 101? Go here
Want to know what National Infertility Awareness Week is? Go here

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

25th April - ANZAC DAY

"They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old, Age shall not weary them nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we shall remember them".

LEST WE FORGET

ICLW + a Greek Orthodox Easter

2011-04-21T11:14:00.002+10:00

Welcome ICLW! Thank you for stopping by my blog. If you would like to know a little about my IF Journey please click on the page above. I'm sure my tale will leave you with a smile after reading my 6 years battle of infertility and miscarriage.

Most Easters I remember fondly, but like Christmases gone by, Easter was also a reminder of the child I didn't have. Invited by friends or family and surrounded by children. Children I loved but were not mine. Watching their excited faces as they opened their Easter Chocolate Egg as it crumbled to their feet and smothered their cute faces. The rampant noise they made as they played with the new Autumn falling leaves. I now have that child and I look forward to his experience of Easter. My son will have his chocolate, but more so he will learn and acknoweldge its true meaning - of Christ, of Resurrection and of Christianity.

My post is simply a recipe and some humble traditions of a Greek Orthodox Easter.

Greek Easter is a week long celebration. There are no frisky bunnies in my household. Instead, there are many beautiful moments with my mother, godmother and sister dying eggs, baking bread and cleaning intestines! Loving memories of us being together gossiping and discussing life. One part I absolutely adore is dying the eggs particularly because of its meaning. The egg is seen by followers of Christianity as a symbol of resurrection. Easter eggs are dyed red to represent the blood of Christ, shed on the Cross.

The hard shell of the egg symbolises the sealed Tomb of Christ—the cracking of which symbolises his resurrection from the dead. We crack each others eggs on Easter Day and the person whose egg is still intact will have good luck for the rest of the year.

Another awesome tradition we Greeks have is cooking this amazing soup. I remember the day when I first started dating Shooter (who is from an Anglo-Celtic background) I had invited him to my family's Easter celebration. His mouth was watery when he entered the backyard and smelled the lamb roasting on the spit and the yalaktobouriko sweets baking in the oven. However he soon realised that in order to be welcomed to The Family and eventually as my spouse he would need to try the "special soup". We all hung to the moment he put spoon to mouth. Surprisingly he loved it, because in Scottish tradition, haggas resembles this soup dish.

Magiritsa Soup - (μαγειρίτσα) is a Greek soup made from lamb offal. Traditionally it is eaten to break the fast of the Greek Orthodox Great Lent, the 40 days before Easter. Its role and ingredients result from its association with the roasted lamb traditionally served at the Paschal meal. In its traditional form, Magiritsa simply consists of all the offal removed from the lamb before roasting.

Ingredients:

• 2 lb lamb heart, liver, lungs (pluck) and other organs.

• 3/4 cup rice

• 1 bunch anise and barley

• 1 lb spring onions

• 3 eggs

• 2 tbsp butter

• Lemon juice of 3 lemons

• Salt and pepper to taste

Method:

• Boil the pluck and remove the foam.

• Add salt to it and let it boil for a while.

• Take it out and keep the broth.

• Cut the pluck into small pieces and place the broth in a big pot, after passing it through a strainer.

• Cut the onions and the anise/barley into small pieces, and combine them with the broth.

• Add the pluck and the butter, mix well.

• Reduce the flame and let them boil till they are almost done.

• Add the rice to it.

• Meanwhile beat eggs in a bowl very well and then add the lemon juice gradually.

• Take some of the soup and add it slowly to the sauce.

• Repeat the process several times, beating always the sauce and add the sauce to the pot, stirring the soup slowly.

Prepared by Greeks on Holy Saturday along with the next day's lamb, Magiritsa is consumed immediately after the Pascha midnight mass.

HAPPY EASTER BEAUTIFUL BLEEPS

Coming Soon - my submission for the Bust a Infertility Myth Blog Challenge - National Infertility Awareness Week 24-30 April.

Mind Your Head Monday

2011-04-18T12:18:00.002+10:00

MY LITTLE ONE

My little one whose tongue is dumb,

Whose fingers cannot hold to things,
Who is so mercilessly young,

He leaps upon the instant things,

I hold him not. Indeed, who could?

He runs into the burning wood.

Follow, follow if you can!

He will come out grown to a man

And not remember whom he kissed,

Who caught him by the slender wrist

And bound him by a tender yoke

Which, understanding not, he broke.

~ Tennessee Williams

And Daddy didn't hold him by the wrist.

So he tumbled onto the concrete and rolled into the bushes.

Just because he could hear Mummy coming up the street.

All excited and trying to run, stumbling closer and wanting to give me a hug.

Ouchies!

Bust an Infertility Myth Blog Challenge

2011-04-08T13:44:00.000+10:00

National Infertility Awareness Week 24-30 April 2011

In just a few easy steps you can become part of the largest public education campaign that will bring bloggers from all parts of the sphere together to talk about infertility during National Infertility Awareness Week®, April 24-April 30, 2011. “Bust a Infertility Myth Blog Challenge” is brought to you by RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association, the largest nationwide non-profit improving the lives of people diagnosed with infertility. The goal of this challenge is to bring together bloggers from the infertility community as well as other bloggers interested in the topic to answer the question: What is the biggest infertility myth and how has it effected your life or the life of your friends and family members? Blogs can be based on your own experience with infertility, the experience of a friend or family member, or even just to explore the topic.

Here is how to participate in this challenge.

During the week of April 24th to April 30th.

Choose one “Infertility Myth to Bust” or make one of your own.

Go back to your blog and explore that “myth” in a post. Expand on the idea, tell a story, write poetry, say it with photographs–any way you want to explore that “infertility myth.” Posts can go up any time from April 24 to April 30. Please start your post by placing your chosen “infertility myth” at the top of the post.

Add a link at the bottom of your post to this url giving a basic understanding of infertility: http://www.resolve.org/infertility101 and this url giving the background of National Infertility Awareness Week® (NIAW): http://www.resolve.org/takecharge.*

Return here and fill out this survey to submit your post for award consideration. It will then appear as part of this challenge and all blogs on the list will be considered for RESOLVE’s Hope Award for Best Blog presented at the 2011 Night of Hope. RESOLVE will also be featuring a link to the blog on http://www.resolve.org/resources/infertility-2-0.html

*Your blog posts will be read by a wide range of people including possibly those in law-making positions or the media. Because they may be reading your post without a basic understanding of infertility or National Infertility Awareness Week®, we want to give everyone a quick way to read more.

You do not need to be infertile to participate. If you want to support a friend or family member and explain how you busted a infertility myth, we’d love to have you join the challenge.

If you don’t have a blog, consider starting one using Blogger and Wordpress. These are both websites that allow people (quite easily) to set up a free blog. Only blogs written by individuals (not organizations or professionals) will be considered for RESOLVE's Hope Award for Best Blog.

Promote your participation in this project on your Facebook profile or Twitter.

Tweet about your "Bust a Myth" blog submissions using #Bustamyth.

Update your Facebook profile with the link http://www.resolve.org/bustamyth to promote your blog to your friends and family.

And make sure you come back and read the Bust a Myth posts as they go up.

FAQs about the Bust a Myth Blog Challenge:

1. What is the deadline for submitting a blog post to be eligible for the Hope Award for Best Blog?
ANSWER: You must participate in the challenge between April 24-April 30, 2011 to be considered.

2. Can you enter multiple times with links to different blogs?
ANSWER: Sure, but we’d prefer that each blog entry answer a bust a different infertility myth. The goal of this project is to educate the public so a variety of topics is most appealing.

3. Who picks the nominees for the Hope Award for Best Blog?
ANSWER: Once the project wraps up on April 30, RESOLVE staff and volunteers will look at the blogs that have been entered into the challenge. We will choose the top 5 blogs that are infertility focused whose virtual initiative and mission is to foster awareness about the disease of infertility and a positive and informative manner. Once we have 5 nominees we'll ask the RESOLVE community to vote for their favorite. We'll contact the winner in July and the winner will be invited to attend RESOLVE's Night of Hope in New York City.

4. What does RESOLVE hope to accomplish with this project?
ANSWER: RESOLVE’s goal is to increase the conversation about infertility and to inform the public that:

Infertility is a disease that affects 1 in 8 couples of reproductive age

There are many ways to build a family

Help reduce the stigma by bringing attention to the details/issues/costs surrounding all ways people diagnosed with infertility can build a family.

Understand when to seek the help of a specialist

5. How do I reach someone at RESOLVE with questions?
ANSWER: Please email your questions to info@resolve.org

In Support of Jackie O

2011-04-06T16:32:00.000+10:00

I don't need to write anything as Amity Dry did a fabulous job. My views on this is spot on, albeit my letter would have had many expletives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Pru Goward,

Wow, if you wanted to alienate every mother in Australia, mission accomplished! Your statement comparing Jackie O bottle-feeding her baby while walking across the road to Michael Jackson HANGING HIS BABY OVER A BALCONY was so absurd it had me wondering if it was a belated April Fools Day joke. But no, apparently you were serious. But then, if making that statement wasn’t bad enough, accepting responsibility for the opinions of every mother in the country and suggesting we too would be appalled by Jackie’s actions? Well, Pru, here’s a hot tip for you. The only mother I’m appalled by here is you.

As if Jackie wasn’t having a bad enough week, with the open letter she copped from journalist Annette Sharp. Questioning why she went back to work so early after having a baby was offensive enough and why any mother should have to justify her choices, public profile or not, is beyond me. But your comments coming on top of that must have felt like such a vicious blow, at a time of such vulnerability, I can only imagine how Jackie is feeling right now.

I have met Jackie many times over the years and she is a really lovely girl. Back in 2003 when I was doing a ton of promo for The Block and The Lighthouse we saw each other quite often. I remember one charity event we both attended where I brought my baby nephew, who was visiting from interstate. We both oohed and aahed over him, taking turns for cuddles, while agreeing we couldn’t wait to be mums ourself. I haven’t seen Jackie for many years now, but I was really happy to read the news she was pregnant, after spending so long trying to conceive. (Successful with IVF) Having experienced my own challenges in conceiving my second baby I knew how heartbreaking it was to long for a baby, so was thrilled she finally had her much longed for child.

Do you remember that feeling Pru? That excitement, nervousness, awe and trepidation of becoming a mum for the first time. Do you remember trying so hard to do everything right, in this life changing new experience, whilst feeling like your whole world had been turned upside down?

I do. So to hear Jackie’s anguished tears as she pleaded her case on her show the other day made me really angry. How horrible that this amazing time in her life should be hijacked, by judgemental and nasty comments from women who should know better. And why should she have to explain herself to anyone? Is her baby in danger, neglected, malnourished, abused? No. Although plenty of babies across the country are Pru, as you well know (considering your position as NSW families minister). Yet the actions of their parents aren’t held up to public criticism at all, because they are protected by laws that withhold their identities. Perhaps you could spend your time looking into that, instead of focusing on a clearly loving and competent mother, who happens to work in the spotlight. It astounds me, as mothers yourselves, that you would want to contribute in any way to the pressure and uncertainty that every new mum already feels, by publicly questioning the personal choices Jackie has made.

And lets look at those choices for a moment. Returning to work after 8 weeks, in a studio set up in her home so that her baby is always with her. Um, wouldn’t this be considered an ideal, if not FANTASTIC arrangement for most new mums and their babies? Being able to continue to work without having to get out of your pjs and leave the house, or your baby, would seem like a best-case scenario for most working mums. But even if Jackie had returned to the office at 8 weeks, as some mothers have to do, or choose to do, isn’t that HER BUSINESS?

So onto the second accusation, walking across the road whilst bottle-feeding her baby, which you suggested was ‘unnecessarily cavalier.’ Unnecessarily cavalier? Was she attempting to get her 3 month old to walk across the road herself? Was she dodging traffic while holding her baby in one arm and a bottle of gin in the other? That would be unnecessarily cavalier. But feeding her while walking? For gods sake.

I have to say, I have breastfed my baby in some pretty bizarre situations. In fact, the moments I’ve spent serenely focusing all my attention on her whilst breastfeeding in an upright feeding chair have been few and far between. Instead, I have balanced her on my lap whilst writing this blog, held my iphone over her head to check my emails and begged her to stop stuffing around and hurry up and finish because I had to get to rehearsal. Is this unnecessarily cavalier Pru? Does this picture not represent the ‘perfect’ image of devoted motherhood we are expected to fulfill, therefore making me a bad mother?

Because if that’s the case, we’re all bad mothers. Every single one of us who are just trying to get through the day, trying to fit it all in, trying to be everything to everybody and trying to do our best at a job that has no rules and never ends. So wouldn’t it make it a lot easier for all of us if we supported and embraced one other during this challenging new experience, instead of judging from the sidelines? Aren’t the demands of new motherhood enough without having to fend off public attacks from other women, who should get it themselves?

Pru, you have spoken for other mothers everywhere in your comments to Jackie, so I’m going to do the same.

Jackie, on behalf of sane mothers across the country, we support you. We recognise you’re doing the best you can, just like we all are, and we wish you and your precious baby Kitty all the best in your new lives together. This should be one of the happiest (yet sleepiest) times of your life, so we hope you can put this ridiculous situation aside and get on with the joy of falling in love with each other.

Do you agree that Pru Goward overstepped the line? Comment on Amity's blog.

Amity Dry is a writer, composer, singer and mum of two. She blogs for Essential Baby and is the writer and composer of ‘Mother, Wife and the Complicated Life,’ a new musical that takes a raw and honest look at marriage and motherhood. Follow Amity on Twitter.

Jackie O is a radio DJ with daughter Kitty

"Tumble Out Of Bed and Stumble To The Kitchen"

2011-03-31T17:45:00.002+11:00

♫ Pour myself a cup of ambition

And yawn and stretch and try to come to life

Jump in the shower and the blood starts pumping

Out on the street the traffic starts jumping

With folks like me on the job from nine to five

Working nine to five what a way to make a living ♫
~ Dolly Parton

This post is dedicated to working mums. For your strength, your determination, your devotion and most especially, your sacrifice.

I'm a part time working mum. I need to not want to. I'd rather be a Stay At Home Mum. I envy those who are. Being a mother is a full time job. Period. Add another to the mix and it becomes psychosis. (I thought IF made me crazy, but this is ridiculous)

Fuck I need some sleep. No matter what help I get from Shooter and other family members I still need just a little smidgen of extra time to scratch my arse. I can do it on the train to or from work, but that weird smelly looking guy with pirate eye patch is giving me the looky. I can do it at work under my desk, but it looks strange to my co-worker who is sitting close by wondering why I'm chucking a funny fart face. And then when I'm finally at home, I must remember to wash my hands when preparing dinner after scratch-fest.

I'm constantly trying to remember things.

Life is in motion All. The. Fucking. Time: Working, Washing, Hanging, Changing, Feeding, Shopping, Rooting, Eating, Talking, Typing, Playing, Joking, Laughing, Scrubbing, Cleaning, Arguing, Replying, Exercising, Walking, Transporting, Watching, .....

I work because I have to. Shooter supports most of our financial position, my part time hours make ends meet and affords us some luxuries in life. I'm not one of those wives who forces her husband to work 2 or more jobs just so the woman stays at home. I believe in equal parenting and partnership. I may be shot down for this, nevertheless this is my opinion. If I could afford to stay at home because Shooter earns a better living, then that is what I would do. But I do not believe that the husband/partner has to sacrifice his time with his children just to work several hours a day and including weekends and then gets rewarded with fucking socks for Father's Day.

That's not a family.

I know several women in my life who do just that to their men. And I can easily say with no reservation that their children are suffering. If there is a choice to have the father at home then all options need to be considered to ensure he enjoys his children too. Shooter is from a single-parent family who was tossed around from parent to parent, however his parents did the best for him regardless of their situation. I'm from a migrant family whereby both my parents worked equally and my sister and I enjoyed them both until my father fell ill and my mother had to work more hours. She had no choice, but we survived as a family. Although I wish she was around more for me when I was younger. Present day, whilst I work she enjoys looking after Callum. Redemption.

According to the Institute of Family Studies, statistics show that 42 per cent of mothers with children aged newborn to four are employed in some capacity. So I work. I save. I spend. My luxury is sweet smelling expensive soap for my arse, because I've earned it.

I take my hat off to women in general. I salute mothers. But I shout out to the world that working mothers fucking rule!

Thank god I enjoy my job. Who wouldn't want to work here?

Pool anyone?

Not in the photo - Fooz ball, PS 2 & 3, Wii & a Cafe with a Capuccino machine

BFF

2011-03-24T11:41:00.002+11:00

Best Friends ~~Forever~~ Fart in front of each other.

I've known D since we were 3.

We're so different from each other.

She's tall I'm short.

She's fertile I'm not.

She has luxury I have acid reflux.

She's thin I have a kangaroo pouch.

She's hairy I am so certainly not!

But one thing we do have in common is that we make each other laugh.... A lot.

What more could a girl ask for?

New Blog Friday

2011-03-18T11:21:00.000+11:00

Today my blog gets featured on Aly’s New Blog Friday over at The Infertility Overachievers. Aly helps out bloggers by transcending their wee blogs to astronomical proportions. Think Charlie Sheen popularity. OK, a bit of an exaggeration, but nonetheless some undie exposure to this gorgeous blogging community.

Aly recently accomplished a Big Fat Positive on her IVF attempt. In a few months time her son, London will be a big brother. A big belly rub for a peaceful pregnancy and the safe arrival of your baby (or babies!) Aly. Thank you for all your support since I joined the blogging community and especially for my new and improved blog design.

Welcome new readers. Please have a read of My IF Journey and be inspired by other stories on Journeys of Success. I'm still drafting My Pregnancy Journey - it was a wicked time filled with fear, stress and anxiety. READ: Constant itching, bleeding and a dislocated rib. One day I'll build the courage to re-live it and write it down.

Here's an extra smidgen of info about me for you lovely newcomers and current followers who might appreciate another sticky beak into my world:

My greatest triumph in life is undoubtedly Callum, although I can French braid my own hair, which falls down to my waist. I started to get grey hair, hmm Jeez, about 2 years into my IF experience. No fucking surprises there.

My personality is a cross between The Sopranos meets My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

Speaking of weddings I yelled 'fucking hell' whilst walking down the aisle in the Greek Orthodox Church when I was getting married because I stumbled on my own feet. I can't wear heels! My dad who was holding my arm, cracked up laughing and giggled throughout the whole ceremony.

Shooter and I - Prettier Daze Before Fat Bum & Double Chin

My parenting style is full of humour and mistakes. Callum is not wrapped up in cotton wool because my parents already have a whole yarn knitted around him and spoil him rotten. He is their first grandchild and likely to be their only.

Callum @ 18 months old

Thanks for stopping by my blog! If you would like to participate in New Blog Friday, please click on the link.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-03-09T10:23:00.001+11:00

Baby Led Weaning is A Crock of Shit

International Women's Day + Cake

2011-03-07T23:09:00.000+11:00

~ 8th March 1973 ~

Who knew that 38 years later, I would be celebrating my birthday on the same day as International Women's Day. I feel so honoured and cool.

It took my mum 8 hours to squeeze me out. I arrived at 12.10pm. My dad was waiting outside the birthing room, because back then men couldn't hold their wives hand and be a support person during labour. I was born in a private hospital on Crown St, Sydney. Years later, ironically, I would walk it's corridors to meet up with a client as the building had been converted to a homeless refuge for youth in crisis. My mum had an epidural for her pain and till this day her back where the injection was inserted continues to hurt.

My mum thinks I was a result of Clomid. At 21 years old, a migrant from Greece, she didn't have an education let alone any knowledge of infertility or treatments. She just wanted a child. She tried and tried. Her sister, who accompanied her to Australia was already pregnant with her second. Many other relatives and friends had snotty cheeky kids running around too. She went to a doctor, he gave her injections and pills and here I am today.

I love being a woman. The best achievement of my life was to carry a child and give birth to him. I'm also proud to be a working mum. I'm relentlessly involved in my Union. I have the right to vote. I can sit in a pub, with men and drink beer. I wear jeans. I shave my legs if I feel like it. I can do any type of job I want. I have an education. I chose the man I loved and married. I say 'fuck' a lot - I'm no lady, but I don't care. I have my own opinion.

So on this day, I raise my glass and celebrate my birth. I raise my glass and celebrate being a free and independent woman. I raise my glass to my fellow sisterhood.

Us women still have a relentless journey to tackle, but one day girls we will rule the world.

I stick my middle finger up to those who dare oppose me.

So for now, I will break my diet, blow my candles and eat cake.

I am woman hear me roar.

Happy International Women's Day and Happy Birthday to me.

My beautiful mother and I - aged 4

I'm One Of Those ...

2011-02-24T16:05:00.000+11:00

I'm one of those women now who sits on a train with a kid in a pram and:

Gets dirty death looks from women my age (A fellow IF? - sigh)
Passengers do an abrupt halt and run towards another carriage (I have a good kid, he won't bother you godsdamnit!)
Old ladies touch my kid, pinch my kids cheeks, give my kid chips and lollies that are wrapped in their hanky's (Fuck me)
Fertile cunts with 3 children who are allowed to run riot - feel that it is a prerequisite to come up to my kid with their filthy hands and snotty noses and touch my kid, slap my kid, kick my kid - whilst whore sits on her fat arse abusing one of her baby's daddy's on her mobile ignoring what her retard children are doing. (Make sure bitch I don't hear you say your full name, cause I'm a youth worker and have mates who work at the Department of Community Services)
Any gender or age who feel comfortable to discuss whether I breast feed, whether I had a vaginal or cesearean birth, and how long my labour was. (He's not my kid, I stole him from a dingo)
Old men who have to remind me of the Golden Age where children were bashed to determine discipline and food was so rare that I have a very spoilt and lucky child because he was eating a biscuit.

I'm a public transporter who procures entertainment 3 days a week from the colourful citizens of the south westerners of Sydney. I've subjected my dear Callum to the perfunctory of human society since 6 months of age. He smiles at them. Completely oblivious to the conversations. Utterly innocent to the shallowness of people who have already judged him. Ignorant to the careless attention that is given to him.

I travel to his grandma, leave him with her to care for him. I then go to work with an effervescent amount of tales to tell my workmates. Sometimes it takes days to clean the bad taste from my mouth.

When grandma moves close to us, this episode will end. And I will go back to sitting in the section that is oblivious to the world, scratching my bum and consumed with my book.

For now, the battle continues to rage.

Bloggsters - What tales can you add to this list?

"Life Is A Warfare And A Stranger's Sojourn"

2011-02-18T17:55:00.000+11:00

~ Marcus Aurelius.

Life does seem to be a battle sometimes. A dark stranger usually holidays in your soul when you're feeling black. I have moments of blackness. Only swift enough though to freak the fuck out of me. I'm not a paranoid delusional, although I've had my fair share of mind altering essences in my adolescence and early adulthood. "One time in band camp I ate a mushroom and hehe I thought I was a mushroom and one time I ...." But not enough to completely alter my physiology or my psychology. I'm ~~somewhat~~ discerning.

IF is ~~was~~ IS my dark stranger. Or in Dexter terms a dark passenger. I won't go on the bandwagon about this, I acknowledge and understand that there are many beautiful women out there still struggling to kick the goal of motherhood. I am grateful I have Callum. No scratch that.... I am completely ecstatic that I have Callum. Delirious is an understatement. But this post isn't about that. This dark passenger comes swiftly in my thoughts and for an infinitesimal moment whispers in my ear and tells me - Callum doesn't exist.

I nearly shit myself. Or in my favourite endearment: I touch cloth.

The dark passenger manufactures hallucinations.

I'm walking to the bus stop, pushing the pram. But Callum is not in there. It's just a doll.
I walk past Callum's bedroom, it's just a storage room filled with hoarded redundant crap.
I'm not woken up by any cries of "mum" but the neighbours detestable barking dog.

Everyone is playing the game too. They humble me because I'm insane, right? That poor woman holding the doll, rocking it gently, kissing it's cheek. That poor woman who had a miscarriage and can't have children. See her walking down the street pushing a pram - poor dear. Stop those vexatious teenagers from poking her with a stick!

They all give me those patronising sympathetic smiles. They feed the deception.

The dark passenger has been around since my pregnancy and stalks me still. I'm building the courage to tell the motherfucker to neck itself. To fly the fuck off. To bury itself in the deepest caves on Earth. To habituate the mind of a dung beetle.

I laugh at it. I suppose I'm broadcasting that I. Am. Crazy.

But for a split second my world crashes and I nonsensically believe the bullshit. Then I hear the slappity slap of bare feet running down the corridor, poking his head through the door and in a sweet little voice he says "mum, kaka". Time for a nappy change.

Reality hits and I can breathe again (through a mask, especially when he's teething)

My Real-Life Doll

Bloggsters, do you have a dark passenger too?
How has IF shaped your life?

Fat Arse Be Gone - Part 2 (Return of the Jelly Bean)

2011-02-10T20:03:00.000+11:00

From Dusk to Dawn. Whilst you were sleeping. Or whilst you were playing. Depending which country you hail from.

My Weighloss Journey has come to a realisation - I ~~need~~ have to lose weight. Period.

Since this post I have been trying really hard to lose the weight, but no fat would budge. I was getting quite depressed about it as I had done this healthy lifestyle diet before and lost 12kgs. Something had to give.
So off to the doctor I ~~merrily~~ swore and cursed and shook my fist to the heavens I went. Several testings later, this my dear Bloggies is what I have been diagnosed with:

Pre-diabetes - basically if I don't get healthy and lose the weight I will forever be pricking fingers to monitor sugar levels as well as um yeah die from a heart attack or my feet will fall off from gangrene and I will have a belly that flops over and blankets my hooha. This condition has deterred the weight to fall off due to slack insulin working ineffectively.

Acid reflux - I was wondering why I keep winning belching competitions lately and why my throat burns everyday all day and why all of a fucking sudden tomatoes have become my enemy. I need to take a deep breath. Oh wait I can't. Try again.....that's better.

Anxiety has kicked in as well.

My knees click, my feet hurt, there's shooting pain in my hands. My left eyelid flutters. Constantly.

All repercussions of FAT and Sleep Deficiency and Too Much Coffee and No Sex.

I need a holiday......

Current fat arse weight: 78kgs (171 lbs)
Weight Loss Goal: 60kgs (132 lbs)

The Rules:

High Protein, Low Carb Healthy Lifestyle Diet - 3 meals, 3 snacks. Lowwww portions.
30 minutes per day of walking, weights, lunges, skipping rope, housework.
Drink more water.
Sleep - ergo don't stay up late watching Supernatural and perving on Jensen Ackles.

Medication and supplements I'm taking:

Metformin - diabetes/insulin. The ~~happy happy joy joy~~ side effect of this is I have to eat jelly beans if I feel fatigued.
Nexium - acid reflux
Slippery Elm & Chia Seeds - digestive/reflux
Fish Oil, multivitamins, B-complex, Chrome (sugar metabolism), Vitamin C.

I'll be living on this -

And this -

Not this -

Somebody kill me now......

Need to catch up on my Weighloss Journey?
Have fun reading this Fat Arse Be Gone - Part 1 and this BMI = BMX

"Does My Bum Look Big In This?" - New Blog Makeover

2011-02-04T11:19:00.000+11:00

Something needed a makeover.

I'm trying with my body, but it's not there yet. FAT is evil and that cream bun looks heavenly.

Someone bring me a bucket for my saliva.

The cash supply is limited at the moment for home renovations. Callum likes to fingerpaint on walls with strawberry yoghurt.

My job is swell - I'm busy now smelly teenager with mango sucked spiky hair cut who needs ~~a bath~~ help finding a job, go away - The world can wait to be saved.

Shooter and Callum are perfect. Fullstop.

The parentals are in good health. My love for you is immeasurable.

Miss Clown is going back to University. She has a new boyfriend who has a real job and loves her dearly. Her life has turned around since this post.

My dear friend whom I have known since we were 12 years old recently had her first IVF cycle fail. I understand sweetheart how it feels. I will walk this journey with you.

I have no pets to groom. Although I have been eyeing that cute stocky cheeky bull terrier down the street.

Isn't he cute? Pinch you bum, bum.

The Blog it is....

Thank you Aly from The Infertility Overachievers who started her blog design business Bridge Work Blog Designs a few months ago. I had been thinking for a while to make this little blog a little prettier, but with my ineptitude for computer programming, I needed help and a creative touch. This blog is my sanctuary, my vault for rambling thoughts, my swear jar. I feel welcomed here and it's a connection to true friends - you.

Aly is a fellow IFer and is currently undergoing IVF for secondary infertility. I wanted to support her and her business as she is also a Work At Home ~~Mum~~ Mom.

Fabulous job you glorious American girl.

Does your blog need some essence? Support a fellow IFer and WAHM. Click on Aly's link now!

The bird you see in the heading is a dove. If you have read My IF Journey, you would know that Callum's name is Gaelic heritage means Dove - The Harbinger of Hope. I'm thinking of getting this as a tattoo - not sure where though.

The HOPE quote is from poet Emily Dickinson.

Caricature of Emily Dickinson

So my dear bloggies, what do you think of the New Look Blog? Seriously, does my bum look big in this?

Children Tend To Be Sticky

2011-01-27T16:37:00.001+11:00

"There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million".

~ Walt Streightiff ~

This post is dedicated to my son, my dove, my Callum.

You’re a regular chatterbox – mum, ma, dad, duck, jet, woof, copta (helicopter), gonks (sock), shit, poo, kaka, broombroom, car, twain (train), door, twee (tree), don’t touch, nana, nouna (godmother in Greek) yaya (nana in Greek), pa (grandfather), lilo (pa’s dog), chisha (wee in Greek), bwoom (broom), shoes, bye bye, and coutless more in your own classic language. Your favourite is “Nah” with a wave of the hand. I'm surprised you haven't said the 'F' word yet.

You love the outdoors. As soon as we say the word, you’re picking up your shoes pointing at the door.

You’ve been walking for a while now, but it won’t be long when you are running and mum running after you.

You touch everything you’re not supposed too and are in love with the remote control.

You take a 3 hour nap after lunch. Mum catches up on the housework, blogging and um err exercising.

You point at everything! All the pictures on your bed room wall, everything outside. You try to say and learn all the words.

Bop, bop, bop to all the music. Commercials are your favourite.

Eats everything! Even curries and chillies, olives and fetta cheese. You prefer to eat all-by-yourself, but it all ends up on the floor and it gets all messy.

Has 12 teeth with 4 more coming through.

Kisses randomly and grabs my hand and squeezes it tight into a hug. But when mum says “makia makia” (kiss me in Greek) you say “Nah” and laugh.

You’re in the big bath now and it’s the best part of your day. You scream and holler when I take you out.

You like to screech so you can hear your own voice.

You are shit-scared of the vacuum cleaner!

You like to spin around and around. Apparently this is called “baby drugs”.

Love the feeling of your little tooth brush but would prefer to suck at it rather than brush.

Can turn the pages of a book but would prefer to play with your broom broom (typical boy).

Starting to climb on all the furniture and dance on the coffee table.

Can throw the ball but can’t catch it.. yet.

Understands and responds to directions. Soon you will be making mum her morning coffee.

Pretends that everything is a telephone.... chats to the whole world.... about your world.

Likes to help mum "clean".

Has started to chuck temper tantrums. Thank God dad does the shopping......

You went to the beach for the first time... and you LOVED IT!

My little man, it's been a pleasure.

Love you, mum xox

I Would Like To Thank God, My Mum, My Agent and Beckie

2011-01-25T12:23:00.000+11:00

I won an award. How cool is that? Thank you Beckie from Beckie's Infertility Journey!

And not just any award, but a "Versatile Blogger" award. Versatile - an awesome word. V.E.R.S.A.T.I.L.E. which means accomplished, multifaceted, resourceful, functional, adaptable, dexterous, ingenious.

I first discovered Beckie's Blog through another blogger friend. I found that her journey echoed mine when I was going through infertility. I love the way she writes her posts - with such sincerity, truth and an everlasting hope. I wish Beckie all the best with her journey and I know that one day she will be a beautiful mother.

Here's how this award works:

1. Thank and link back to the person who gave you the award.
2. Share 7 things about yourself.
3. Award 15 recently discovered great bloggers.
4. Make sure you contact these bloggers to let them know about the award.

7 things about me:

1. I bite my nails. They look terrible.
2. My favourite books are anything to do with serial killers and wizards.
3. My favourite TV show is Battlestar Galactica - the new version. I watched this show relentlessly during my IF Journey.
4. I used to play Netball and be in the Centre position. I was the shortest player but the fastest. I miss it.
5. I have 2 best friends both named Dimitra and both are Aquarius.
6. I met my husband through a mutual friend who both frequented a death metal pub.
7. I believe in the supernatural.

So now I give these wonderful bloggers this award. 15 is a hard number to reach. Some of these bloggers have also recently received this award, but I would like to acknowledge them as well. The others are new followers who made the effort to visit my blog but to also comment. Thank you all for your support.

My Path to Insanity and Beyond (My TTC Journey)
InfertiliTEE
Making Baby Giraffes
Maybe Baby... (or Maybe the Loony Bin?)
Riding the IVF Roller Coaster
Eat Love Hope
A Half Baked Life
Good Golly Miss Holly
Mommy Wants Vodka
The Love Story of a Belladonna
Party of Five
Bio Girl
Welcome To My Freak Show
As Good As It Gets
Unglamorous

Enjoy!

Short and Sweet

2011-01-24T11:25:00.000+11:00

My home computer is dead.

As I guzzle my cappuccino during morning tea at work, I will steal some time to write this:

It's ICLW! Thank you all for stopping by and leaving me comments. I appreciate you kind words and hugs. I need to do some major catching up on my commenting, and will do it when I get a proper break and some geek fixes my 'puter.

I want to also shout out a HUGE thank you to JeCaThRe from Bread, Wine, Salt who recently hosted a Virtual Baby Shower for Justine at A Half Baked Life. Due to problems with my computer I wasn't able to blog my gift to Justine so JeCaThRe hosted it for me. You can view my gift of Greek Honey Cookies here.

~ HAPPY AUSTRALIA DAY ~

Wednesday, 26th January.

Want to know what Australia Day is? Click on me.

Hooroo. Catch you on the flip side.

How Precious Life Is

2011-01-17T16:43:00.000+11:00

I read this amazing post today from Good Golly Miss Holly. She has inspired me to not take life for granted and truly enjoy, believe and be conscious by the great things I already have in my life. I dwell on the negatives way too often. Some things I have absolutely no control over.

Ke Sera Sera.

The devastation in Queensland with the flash floods left me numb. I am protected by living in my humble abode in Sydney with only my TV to relay the news of what has occurred. I will never comprehend how it feels to have your home brutalised and destroyed. Your possessions tossed like rag dolls and mushed in a pile of muggy muddy shit. I never want to feel the grief of an untimely death of a loved one. Someone precious in my life.

The depredation of this beautiful state has contrived me to ponder an issue that has been disco-dancing in my head for an enduring time. An issue so infinitesimal to what has occurred in Queensland but a connection nonetheless. I've been meaning to write a post about One Child Families. A situation more than likely to be my fate as a mother. I have extensively laboured over this issue. Will Callum be an only child? How will this affect his life? 3 factors rule this decision. Yes it is a decision - although I think I still have a functioning reproductive system, these factors still contribute to the finite conclusion. Financial, Physical and Mental.

Financial - Shooter and I are not 'well off'. I work part time and contribute to the household income. A job I enjoy and I am proud to have. Adding a second child will mean the possibility of not having a second income or a whole lot of added pressure to my ageing mother who already looks after Callum on the days I work. Physically I'm getting older, turning 38 soon. This only signifies the impending ~~doom of old decrepit woman sitting on a porch chain smoking~~ decline of my reproductive system and the high risk of a child with disabilities being conceived. As well as my war against fat, diabetes and the overall dissolution of my health. Ultimately, "mental" has several hands. I aint no looney (some friends and family may disagree) but there's No. Fucking. Way that I have the strength to tackle IF again. I duly crown those mighty women who battle secondary infertility. One I've met recently, her blog - InfertiliTEE - you are a LEGEND darling and bloggers she is in need of some hugs today. I will not, I can not, I shall not go down that path again. My journey ended with Callum. And fuck off to the ones who might think about commenting that the second one might come easier. There is no truth to that old-wives tale, just ignorance and wishful thinking.

The connection you ask? As Shooter and I are lowered into the ground, a Greek poem by Homer is read and bagpipes playing in the background of a quaint little church. Our dear son farewells us - who will be there for him? There have been no siblings to play with him, no brother to share first base stories with, no little sister to rescue from her first boyfriend. Some distant cousins who don't give a flying fuck maybe. A community comes together to help each other in need and to lift each others human spirit and then they go home. But "a family is the most important thing in the world", Princess Diana once said.

Hope comes in various manifestations.

I hope Callum understands why his god-sister is the closest to a sibling he ever had. I hope he acknowledges my struggles and frustrations with this selfish controversy. I hope he finds someone who loves him completely, passionately and deservedly. Fundamentally, I hope he strengthens our family.

I will not let this issue consume me. I will be grateful that I at least have a child. I will be guiless in the beauty and achievements I have. I will love unconditionally. I know how precious life is and will never denounce it.

What will be will be.

~~~~~~~~~

What are your thoughts on One Child Families?

Have you been in this situation?

~~~~~~~~~

To donate to the Queensland Flood Relief Appeal - Click here

Fat Arse Be Gone - Part 1

2011-01-13T18:40:00.000+11:00

Welcome to the first post of ME and the battle of all battles to rid the evil monster named FAT.

Me who is trying to lose weight, get exercising, get healthy and live.

Live Long and Prosper.

The new journey begins. Wish me luck. Eat a big juicy dripping fat disgusting delicious burger for me, please...

Current fat arse weight: 80kgs (176 lbs)
Weight Loss Goal: 60kgs (132 lbs)

A few years ago, about 3 years into my IF Journey, I joined Sureslim. It was likely that being overweight contributed to my infertility thus shedding some kilos was a primary goal. I lost 12kgs in a space of 2.5 months and squeezed into a Size 10 (Aust. figures) I was so proud of myself and one might say, I looked purdy. And purdy I was at one of the relo's 3rd kids Christenings. At least I felt good and was smug enough to take on the many comments of being child-less.

Fast forward - the weight is back on, more fast and furious than that ugly bold actor Vin Diesel. I will be following Sureslim's protocol again, which is based on a lifestyle healthy eating plan. A high protein, low carb diet. Additionally, taking into consideration that I may have developed diabetes (conclusive results coming soon to a town near you) I will also be following Diabetes Australia's recommendation to a healthy lifestyle.

Oh yes and about 10-15 minutes of daily exercises. This will consist of walking, playing with the boy, and backyard weights. Most of the exercise routines have been adapted from the time I slogged it out at the gym, a year before I got pregnant.

Become a follower and have a gander at my trials and tribulations of regular weigh-ins, munching menu's and jiggle jiggle bum exercises. Please stand on the sidelines and wave your flags of support or better still, if you also need to bitch slap the FAT - join me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today - 2 hour glucose diabetes test.
Rocked up to the clinic fasting from food. First blood test felt like a sting. Then I drank the shit, I don't understand how some people think this shit tastes o.k. It's not yummy. It's shite! One hour later, woken up by the pathologist as I snuggled under a blanket feeling sorry for myself for putting myself in this position. Blood test 2 - this one hurt a little. Back to the freezing air conditioned room. Trying to sleep. Negative thoughts running through my head. What's new? Trying to day dream. Set goals in my diary. Time went fast this past hour. Third blood test. Ouch fucking ouch fuck ya. It's over. Results pending........

I think I deserve a raspberry cream almond cake.

I'll start the diet tomorrow. Promise

Generation X

2011-01-10T16:48:00.000+11:00

1965 - 1979

I was born in 1973. I'm a Generation Xer.

A google search for a definition resulted in this: "Generation X came of age in an era of two-income families, rising divorce rates and a faltering economy. Women were joining the workforce in large numbers, spawning an age of “latch-key” children. As a result, Generation X is independent, resourceful and self-sufficient. In the workplace, Generation X values freedom and responsibility. Many in this generation display a casual disdain for authority and structured work hours. They dislike being micro-managed and embrace a hands-off management philosophy".

I spent forever trying to find a reason based on these characteristics as to why Generation X took their time to decide on when they were going to start to try and have children. Results - nil. However I don't need to do the research, as all I need to do is look at myself and several friends who embarked on this journey in their late 20's and early 30's. The definition above is on par to what I truly am. Its characteristics resonate The IF Journey - independent, resourceful, sufficient. Basically, will do anything and everything and go through anything and everything and stick things in anything and eat and drink shit and will go anywhere and everywhere just to have a baby.

Alone in the wilderness sometimes it felt.

The Shooter husband was always there to hold my hand and dry my tears, but the Journey is one fought alone. Most of it in my head.

Was the career worth it? Was affording and buying a house worth it? Was the holiday overseas worth it? Was waiting for the right time to get married - worth it? If I started to try and have a baby at 21 when I first met Shooter, what would my life be like now? It's hard to answer these questions and I don't really want to because it's scary. All I can say is that those 6 years of infertility and trying, I won some fights and lost some too. Nothing was worth it, yet everything was worth it.

I have no regrets. Simple.

But if I had another chance at life, of travelling through time. What would I tell myself? Would I change anything and everything?

~~~~~~~~~

When did you start trying to conceive? Do you have any regrets? Was it worth it?

Does your Generation have a different view on a starting time to try and conceive?

BMI = BMX

2011-01-06T15:51:00.000+11:00

According to my Body Mass Index, I am obese.

O.B.E.S.E.

This is very hard for me to comprehend. It didn't say 'overweight' or thosedeliciouspuddingscakeschocolates youhad overchristmas added a few kilos to your arse..... takes deep breath. No, I AM obese.

I hate myself.

I am 80kg (176 lbs) and for my age (turning 38) and my wee little height (157cm, 5'2) I should weight around the 50-60kg mark. I have tuck shop arms. I have cellulite that start on my bum and leads down to my thighs. I have 2 chins. My face skin looks crinkly; a haggard tired looking woman. I need wheel barrels to lift up my boobs - front and on my back. I jsut typede this sentencen wlrondg because my fingers are trooo fat and hit two buttontons at once. I looked into the long mirror this morning and saw a woman I did not want to see.

No more excuses Athena, it's time to get off your fat lazy arse and start losing weight. Look at your son. Will you be around for him if you are buried 6 feet under deep in the ground, dead because of a heart attack?

I can't blame pregnancy for it. 82kg was the heaviest I weighed at pregnancy and quickly lost 12kgs after Callum was born. I had 6 months of maternity leave and all I did was sit around, watch TV and eat crap whilst looking after my son. The weight slowly crept up on me. Slowly, like a thief in the night. A biscuit here, a burger there. Procrastination - such a long big word, but it's evil I tells ya, EVIL.

I had gestational diabetes during pregnancy. The trifecta diagnosed me with this: older age, overweight and genetic. Type 2 diabetes would be a definite if I continue with this lifestyle. Heart attacks run in my family. My dad had triple by-pass surgery because of a stroke. I'm already feeling breathless just typing this.

I know how to eat healthy. I cook fresh food almost everyday. I space out my meals and I drink water like a fountain. It's when I get bored that does it. Sitting around doing fuck all. Especially during winter. Callum has only now started to become very active. Like VERY active. Before he would roll around on the mat in front of me, exploring his toys and chewing on coffee table legs. Meanwhile I'm sitting on the lounge, watching TV, munching on chips. Munch munch munch munch munch. Constantly munching on something.

Enough.

It's summer here in Australia. I live in a suburb full of parks, ponds and bike tracks. Callum loves the outdoors. And now that he is near to running, it's time for some real fun and play.

Seriously love, get your shit together fatso. Go to that shed, dust off the good old BMX and start peddling. Start riding for better health and a better life.

I couldn't give a fuck about being a yummy mummy. I just want to be alive for my son. Wish me luck (oh and any tasty recipes you could recommend!)

Kourabiethes (Κουραμπιέδες)

2010-12-24T11:18:00.000+11:00

Justine from A Half Baked Life and Ants from Making Baby Giraffes have both inspired me to post a delicious recipe that I would like to share. As it's the festive season, these Greek icing sugar biscuits are amazingly light to the stomach and are also a comfort food. These biscuits are a tradional and integral contribution on dining tables and gift giving in Greece during Christmas. The icing on top reminds me of snow.

An Australian Christmas I have experienced with my husbands family include: beer, seafood, pudding and a day at the beach. A Greek Australian Christmas usually consists of: beer, lamb on a spit, kourabiethes and a relatives backyard.

These biscuits are also a reminder during my IF journey. Every time I called my mum up to tell her the disappointing news of a failed IVF cycle, she would be there in a heartbeat with a container full of kourabiethes. Up until that time it was all about healthy eating, no coffee and exercise. I needed the indulgement.

Comfort my my aching soul.

Ingredients
(makes around 40)

• 250g butter, softened

• 2 1/2 cups pure icing sugar

• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract

• 1 orange, rind finely grated

• 1 egg, at room temperature

• 2 1/2 cups plain flour

• 1 teaspoon baking powder

• 1/2 cup almond meal (ground almonds)

Method

1. Preheat oven to 160°C. Line 2 flat baking trays with baking paper.

2. Using an electric mixer, beat butter, 1 cup icing sugar, vanilla and orange rind until pale and creamy. Add egg and beat until well combined. Sift flour and baking powder over mixture. Add almond meal. Stir until dough comes together.

3. Using 1 tablespoon dough per biscuit, roll out into 8cm-long sausage shapes. Bend to form crescent shapes. Place on baking trays, allowing room for spreading. Bake for 20 minutes or until light golden. Stand for 5 minutes on trays until firm.

4. Place remaining sugar in a bowl. Coat warm biscuits, 1 at a time, in sugar. Place on a wire rack to cool. Sift any remaining icing sugar over biscuits when cool.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR.

MAY ALL YOUR HOPES AND DREAMS COME TRUE.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Permission to Breathe

2010-12-16T16:29:00.000+11:00

A long long time ago in a galaxy not too far away lived a girl who wanted to have a baby. After many years of trying, she finally was blessed with a beautiful little boy. When he was born, she looked at the little guy not with the first instant reaction of love (shucks!) but with a wry smile and a feeling of hopelessness and fear. What the fuck was she supposed to do with this little skywalker?

~~~~~~~~~~

Truth be told dear bloggies, I wasn't one of those infertiles who said that once I got pregnant and had a kid that I would be a great parent. I knew that I would at least be better than the ghetto fucks who live down the street or my filthy sister in law who has 2 degrees but can't manage to use a mop. I looked at my wee little man, took a deep breath, thanked God for blessing me and then it hit me. What now?

Was I supposed to have inherited or be instilled with the skills of master parenting just because I wanted a baby so fucking much? I was the lucky one and now I should be "happy and grateful" with the blessing and should shoulder the medal for all IF's. Seriously? Am I allowed to breathe first?

I parent with the flow, the way the wind blows. What I feel is appropriate or completely wrong to do or not do. I have the support of my husband, who in the early days, his head was in the sand further than mine but nonetheless there for me. My mum the gem, her unwavering support is absolutely endless, but her Greek traditional ways sometimes bothersome (READ: Ouzo on the gums when the kid is teething) I also had a smidgen of support from the fertile friends, their relentless information sometimes overwhelmed me more than helped me.

I never had a birth plan. I never researched the benefits of cloth nappies over disposables. I never cared about the type of wipes I would have to use or whether a fucking grow bag will help with sleeping over a simple wrap. What I did care about were the safety and benefits of immunisation, prevention of cot death and my little guy reaching his milestones in a safe, comfortable and loving home.

I'm sure there are plenty of parents out there who research and learn all of the above. I will never understand though why designer cloth nappies are so bloody great and why baby wash products have to be organically made. Sometimes I think that their child needs permission to shit. That reminds me - I love that movie Fight Club and I bet the liposuction of some obese women's fat arse fat is what makes most of these products.

I have a clean home. I cook fresh and healthy food. I have a husband who adores me. I have family and friends who love me. I have a happy and content little man named Callum who only recently approached me, patted me on the head and said "nice Ma".

I'm not perfect. As every day goes past I say thanks to God for my little family. But if when I make mistakes or complain or whinge or bitch about parenting, it's because I can. And, I. Will. Say. It. Out. Loud. Not be tight lipped for fear that I might be judged for breathing and that I should be grateful for having a kid after IF.

Dear Sickness

2010-12-10T15:24:00.000+11:00

Dear Sickness,

I am writing to inform you that you are no longer required to infestate the living quarters of a Field of dreams premises. Please ~~fuck off~~ vacate the premises immediately.

As a result of 2 months of antibiotics to treat a sore throat, bronchittis and again a sore throat your continued presence has enabled you to be subsequently labelled as a pest. You now have inhabited both my husbands and son's throats, caused fever in my wee little man and including an ear infection. Seriously, Sickness it's time you said goodbye and take your shit baggage with you. I'm over it.

There was a time where we both pleasantly co-inhabited. You knew that you weren't very welcomed, but after 3 or so days you parted with a sly smile and I hoping to see your back not soon enough. You got what you wanted from my lack of immunity and I got a few days off work catching up on day time soaps and eating chicken soup. But this time its absolutely ridiculous, you've attached yourself to me like some B grade horror alien film monster. No amount of medicine I take helps. I have a barking dog stuck in my chest and a throat that cannot enjoy any luxuries, like food.

I continuously worry for my son. He is so little and doesn't understand why he is feeling like this. You Sickness, are a bully. Consequently, you are also a loser, a tyrant and a self absorbed pathetic attention seeking petty bacterial fungus cunt.

If you require any further ~~abuse~~ information regarding your eviction, please go take it up with the Ombudsman, because i couldn't care less. Piss off.

Yours truly,

a Field of dreams

Bloggies - What's your experiences with Sickness and how do you handle it when you're children are sick?

The Beginning of Dreams

2010-07-14T14:07:00.000+10:00

“To dream anything that you want to dream.

That's the beauty of the human mind.

To do anything that you want to do.

That is the strength of the human will.

To trust yourself to test your limits.

That is the courage to succeed”.
~Bernard Edmonds~

I’m lying on a squeaky bed. I can feel the metal bars across my back on the worn out thin mattress and I can smell the crispness of potent detergent in the sheets. I am being rolled along a corridor and all I can see is the dirty sealing and the lights flashing as I go past. I hear people dash from door to door; their blue, white and pink uniforms flash before me. One of the lights somewhere needs its bulb changed as all I can hear is the buzzing and buzzing, fading, fading. Welcome to day surgery Athena. The first operation in my life, ever. I was always a healthy kid, even as adventurous as I was; I never had any bumps or broken bones. But today at 32 years old, I was having a laparoscopy. In layman’s terms, 4 probes. One through the belly button, 2 above the groin and one conveniently in my vagina. One of the probes was thick enough to have the tiniest of cameras attached to it. My Fertility Specialist wanted to take a look inside my uterus and see whether there was anything to explain my infertility. Infertility - the word I had become quite accustomed to now for nearly 2 years. And today was not the happy ending story. There’s another 4 years to this tale of holding my child in my arms.

My husband and I met when I was 21. We dated for awhile, went on holidays - drank, partied, lived life. We moved in together when I turned 24. Having come from a strict Greek background, this was finally my time to shine. To really express myself, not be bogged down by rules and finally experience adulthood. We lived happily and started to become more involved with our careers and saving cash for our first home. We got married when I was 27. Throw in a few more holidays, helping our families and establishing secure jobs. I was 29 when we finally opened the door to our own home. The thought of children never really entered our minds. We wanted them eventually but were so happy together. Everyone around us was the same age and only now starting to have kids. We were not far behind when we decided to try. How hard could it be? Everyone else was having kids.

Everyone but me.

I can’t tell you the amount of times I cried in those 6 years. Some of them were loud and destructive when no one was around to hear. Other times it was in the shower, holding my mouth shut so tight so that my husband wouldn’t hear my pain. There were times when I sat in the train, my head against the window and silent tears trickling down my cheek, a packed train full of people minding their own business completely oblivious to this woman sitting close by just wanting to die. So many reasons set me off, if it wasn’t my best friend who hated kids but found a good bloke to "keep" and is smsing me she’s pregnant with her second, it was the filthy sister in law pregnant with her third or a 1st birthday party with my husband and I being the only childless couple whilst an old Greek lady approaches me, rubs me in the tummy and in broken English asks “no beby?”. To top it off, being a youth worker helping adolescents didn’t help either. There was always that 15 year old excitedly telling me she was pregnant after a night out of booze and drugs. “My baby’s daddy is a loser and doesn’t want me to keep it, what should I do Athena?” While she’s inhaling a cigarette. Um well you can help me by tightening up that noose around my neck. And then all those times, peeing on a stick with one line not two. Big Fat Negatives. There was also the constant guilt of trying to have a baby at an older age. Only a woman who has experienced infertility and the challenges to have a baby can truly understand the feelings and thoughts that I went through. My story does have a happy ending, and by reading this I pray that it gives others out there hope that miracles do happen.

But first we must acknowledge the journey in order to welcome the accomplishment.

The road to becoming a mummy begins. I’m 30 having baby danced whenever wherever. See what happens approach. Our work and social schedules sometimes didn’t synchronize, so a year later it didn’t really bother me that I wasn’t yet pregnant. I embraced new sweet smelling babies with delight and awe. I then began the process of getting blood tests just to make sure that I was healthy and to correct any obstacles. My doctor discussed with me timed sex. Basically I had a perfect 28 day cycle and somewhere in the middle were my fertile times to have sex. No pregnancy. I then had ultrasounds to check that I actually had a reproductive system that was functional. All clear too, baby dancing resumed. No pregnancy. I then said "fuck it, time to see a specialist". I’m not a procrastinator and now there were just too many babies to meet, christenings to attend, birthday parties where my Oscar winning performing fake smile reared its head. So I had the laparoscopy. Bingo. Endometriosis. A disease that no hyped up ten thousand degree fertility specialist has given an answer as to why women get this. Surgery fixes it, but it can still come back. Stress can invite it back too. My uterus was now squeaky clean. Baby dance, timed sex, ovulation predictor tests, spit in this and see a fern test. Put your fingers in your vagina and feel the mucous. You’re ovulating Athena. Multivitamins, Elevit pre-pregnancy tablets, fish oil, Raspberry leaf tea, Vitex and other over the counter products. I also gave up the smokes and coffee. No pregnancy. In between all of this, my husband got his sperm tested much to his delight (sarcasm). All perfect.

After 3 years it was quite obvious that natural conception was not going to happen for me. The decision to try the scientific method was clear. I wanted to have a baby now and my patience and mental health were wearing thin.

The road to assisted conception begins. I’m 33. My body gets prepped up for an inuterine insemination. Basically a more relaxed version to IVF. Small amounts of hormones injected daily in my tummy till at least one follicle is primed ready to ovulate. Once it’s big and strong, another injection to ovulate it and then my husband’s swimmers are inseminated into my uterus. Just like they do to cows. Moooo. Fingers crossed. No pregnancy. Another 2 attempts at this. Nothing. My specialist doesn’t believe in putting women through further IUI’s if unsuccessful after 3 goes. The worst part during those years was the ever constant remarks by others. The typical "relax and it will happen", or "you need to have sex more often", "it will happen when it happens", "it's in God's plan". I just wanted to murder these people, with their arrogant, obnoxious and self serving attitudes. I was looked at like a leper. Pregnant relatives or friends would avoid me at gatherings and events so that they wouldn't make me feel "sad". How fucking pathetic. If anything, their ignorance and classifying me as "different" were enough to make me feel even more isolated. It's amazing how much you discover about people during these times.

So now we’re recruited for the Big League. IVF. More higher and potent amounts of hormones. More follicles are needed. However not too much as what the body would normally discard as crap is now kept for harvesting. But the crap ones can affect the quality of the good ones. Every second day are blood tests and vaginal ultrasounds. Counting how many follicles are in there, size and ripening up for the harvest. Back to that corridor again, wheeled down to surgery for egg collection. 16 are written on my hand when I wake up from the morphine. Hmmmm morphine, I can see why people get hooked on heroin …… 7 fertilise and become embryos. We do twin transfers at Day 2 growth. 'A' grade embryos with an excellent chance of pregnancy. I didn’t care if I had twins I just wanted a baby, and if there were 2, even better. Although I’m feeling bloated, nauseous and my tummy looks 6 months pregnant. I have a mild case of hyperstimulation because the hormones I was injecting made my body an overresponder. The now empty ovaries are filling up with water. We still go ahead with the transfer. I'm now unofficially pregnant until proven otherwise. Those 2 weeks of waiting whether the embryo implanted into the uterus are terrifying. The mere fact that I had to go down this road of IVF felt like a last chance of ever getting pregnant. That wait was enough to raise my anxiety and have doubts that I would ever become a mother. The last few days of the wait I just knew that it didn't work. I got the heavy cramps and then the bleeding. No pregnancy. Depression came along rapidly. It bit me so hard that I just wanted to die. The last resort didn't work for me. 5 of the embryos that were left were then frozen for when we did the frozen cycle transfer. Twin transfers again twice in consecutive months. No pregnancy. On my way to the clinic to get the final last frozen embryo transferred, the nurse calls me. “Sorry Athena, the embryo didn’t survive the thaw”. Gutted, here come the tears again. Depression. What now? If IVF didn't work, then what were my chances? What hope did I have?

Second IVF cycle begins. The same results. 16 follicles. Though this time as I’m now nearly 35, the specialist decides on a Day 5 blastocyst transfer. This growth allows for better implantation results. Then why wasn't this done in the first cycle? I felt like a guinea pig with a tiny brain that just went along with everything I was told to do. In later months, I researched more thoroughly the procedures and I believe that I should now have been given a medical degree and planned my own protocol. 6 embryos fertilise, only one makes it to the transfer. This was the risk of going to blastocyst stage. No frosticles. Those 3 words again - Big Fat Negative. Devastated, on the brink on checking myself into a psychiatric hospital. I speak to my husband about divorce. He is such a good man and deserves better, a more fertile woman. Not this woman I have become. Consumed with having a child, entrenched in this Trying To Conceive world. He laughs at me. “I’m fucking serious” I say. He yells at me, walks out the door. We don’t speak for days and avoid talking about trying again. He loves me. He would never leave me. I’m the one – mongrel head, infertile yet funny girl of his. I’m a keeper apparently.

It’s time to take a break.

My age didn’t help and my body was tired. Physically and mentally. I needed to have a baby NOW. The finances were just too tight. My husband sold his motorcycle just to afford the 2nd IVF cycle. So it’s a break from the big league and time to explore other more affordable and natural options. As long as I was trying everything and anything, I felt better about achieving my goal. I had so many people telling me to try this and that and I did. I started taking Royal Jelly tablets. Apparently this product is the result of honey taken from the Queen Bee herself and can boost fertility ten times over. No pregnancy. A religious friend of mine acquired some dried apple that was blessed in a monastery. I ate this and prayed hard. No pregnancy. Maybe my lack of optimism affected this. I even had an ultrasound where they inserted a balloon filled with water to expand my fallopian tubes. No pregnancy. But possibly a fibroid. Great. Chinese herbs eventually came into my life. I heard it referred to so many times before. Surely this was my miracle? Jeez how many Chinese people are on this Earth? Billions? Well here we go. Even if it was over a 2 hour journey into the City to see the herbalist, I would have done anything. My mission to have a baby resonated military precision. Victory was the only result. I walked out of that consult room elated. This herbalist was amazing, constructive and believable. Chinese herbs are not so great to drink. Take it out of your head those delicious sweet pork rolls, coconut cakes and the lush jasmine tea. These herbs are fucking disgusting. If I ever drank shit that came out of an aged and decrepit dead animal, sprinkled with the vomit of a sewer rat with a side salad of diarrhoea then this is how I would describe it. Nevertheless, the stuff worked and only after one cycle. Those 2 blue lines on the pregnancy test came up quick. I was late by a day and thought I would check before I went in to see the herbalist again for more stock. I was pregnant. Like really pregnant. I envisioned the smiles and laughter of my husband and including my beautiful parents so eagerly waiting to become grandparents. My sister the sports shoe fanatic already is picking out the baby Ni.ke’s. For one whole week, the dreams danced around in my head. The nursery, the name, the little hands and feet, my beloved little child. Then the cramps began, the bleeding soon after. I miscarry. I just couldn't look at the faces of my family. Their tears accompanied with mine could have easily caused a flood. That same day as I took pills to give me comfort from the pain, the heat bag against my stomach and 3 super pads to collect the blood every hour, my husband gets a call from his younger brother to announce the birth of his 3rd child! 7 weeks this little one held on. Loved and never forgotten. This little angel gave me the strength to believe that miracles do happen and overall I was fertile, I could fall pregnant. Further extensive tests later couldn’t conclude why I miscarriage. Unexplained infertility and now unexplained miscarriage. I just had to keep going.

Hope is all I had in the end.

I was 36. I was just about to embark on another IVF cycle. I had enough of the snake-oil salesmen with their bullshit products and guaranteed pregnancies. I also had professioanl counselling to deal with my failures, loss and impending doom of dealing with the possibly of never becoming a mother. It was Christmas time when we decided to try the scientific method again. At least I knew that this option produced follicles and embryos. I also embarked on the challenge of exercise. I joined the gym and got myself a personal trainer. Healthy body and healthy mind was the goal. I waited till the clinic was opened again in the new year with its usual friendly staff. Knowing that we saved to go down this path again, feeling a bit more optimistic and concluding that no matter what, I will have as many cycles till my body says no more. I would scrape, scrounge and borrow. Nothing will stop me.

So I relaxed.

New Years Eve and my period is late. Surely I’m not pregnant? This cycle was about whatever whenever sex. I don't remember ever secreting any of that egg white fertile mucus. Or maybe I just didn’t bother checking this time? Peed on a stick. Negativity creeping in again, I’m probably menopausal. So young for that but just my luck. The universe hates me, God hates me. I hate me. Waiting 5 minutes for those two lines to appear is everlasting, I could live another life in that time. Prayers, my eyes shut as I make my way into the bathroom where that plastic stick is waiting for me. “I swear God, if I’m pregnant I will be a better Christian, I will say my prayers of thanks every night. I will never bitch or whinge about anything or anyone. Oh yes and if I am pregnant can this one be a keeper?”

Thank you Lord! Pregnant and silly. Raw emotions flooding my body. I want to scream, I want to cry. I’m scared. And scared I was for 9 whole months. But that’s another story. My Callum arrived on the 8th September 2009. One day before my wedding anniversary. The best gift I have ever received. Healthy and content at 4.1 kgs.

Oh and did I mention that Callum in Gaelic means Dove – The Harbinger of Hope?

This story was originally posted in an edited version on Maybe Baby...(or maybe the loony bin?) You can view this here