Saturday, 29 November 2014


I am about to be crude for a moment, but I love this phrase (heard off comedian Jan Maree "Fever Bitch") and I use it whenever I have the opportunity.  You've been warned.

"Sluicing out the old juice box".  Yup, getting ready for my scan and preparing just in case of an encounter with the dildo cam, figured I had best wash up, because you should always turn up with a freshly washed beaver anytime there is a possibility you will have to pull it out.  So, home from work at lunch and into the shower.  Even thought about swapping for a new razor to shave the legs with, but figured I could get a few more days out of the old one.  Happily washing away when I looked down and OHMYGODBLOOD!  Naturally I assume that the BADTHING is happening (because if it is going to, of course it will be just before an ultrasound), but there seemed to be no blood coming from there, and the amount on the floor of the shower was impressive.  Turns out I cut my leg shaving.  Never been so happy to cut myself!  Me thinks time to toss the dull razor. 

On to the ultrasound.  There is a little heart beating away at 104 beats per minute, and a little tadpole measuring in almost exactly on time at 8mm.  My left ovary looked questionable and the lady thought she could see a bleeding cyst on it, so off with the pants and in with the dildo cam (good thing I sluiced out the old juice box).  No corner of my uterus was left unexplored.  Because my ovary was being difficult.  But she could find nothing, and doing a second external scan, there was nothing there.  She mumbled something about a leaky bowel or fluid or something, but whatever she saw was gone after I emptied a very full bladder, and she wasn't concerned.  Anyway, no cysts bleeding and no blood in the uterus.  Things are looking good!

The Moose was there of course, and couldn't stop beaming.  He is totally chuffed and over the moon.  It is so touching and cute.  I think the ultrasound finally made this real for him!

So, 7 weeks tomorrow.  Still no puking, only the greasy feeling like I am hungover.  Still exhausted much of the time, but coping better.  Food cravings kicking in, but really, I have always had them (I have always believed pickles to be the perfect chaser to ice cream) but the other day I really wanted cherry jello and green olives.  I really really want fruity things too.  And tomatoes.  And lemonade.  Yum.  I am 2 kilos down still and seem to lose and gain the same kilo every other day or so.  Not sure how I am not gaining, but I am trying to pay attention to what I am eating.  My sense of smell is maybe a little sharper than usual (I have an excellent snout), but there aren't too many things that I can't stand.  My brain is still in pregnancy fog and oh my god, math, how do I do that? 

Cat update: Toffs and Cleo were very naughty the other day.  I have to express Toff's bladder twice a day to keep her alive (nerve damage after being hit by a car left her unable to pee on her own, though she can leak).  Toffs has decided to change up the routine she has been holding to the last 2 years and not hang around the house in the morning.  So I rushed home during lunch, and she still wasn't around.  So she went about 20 hours without having her bladder emptied before I finally caught her.  And she did it again the next day!  So new plan:  Locking the cat flap and barricading the door at night, because yes, she can open a locked cat flap.  When she gets up and makes a lot of noise trying to get out, I will express her and let her go.  I'll probably be up to pee anyway.  And Cleo, well, she is always naughty, but left me two halves of a bird in the house at the door.  Thanks, Cleo. 

Wednesday, 26 November 2014

Just a quickie...

I've been meaning to write something in the past couple of days, but I keep putting it off.  I'm feeling a bit lazy like that.

I've got a scan booked for Friday, which should be 6w5d I think.  The Moose is going to come with me. 

I still haven't puked, and generally only feel a little queasy a couple of times a day, and that usually lasts about half an hour.  I'm still exhausted.  I am a mass of incandescent gas.  As in wow, gas baby bump (it deflated).  And the dreams...well, that could be a whole post in and off itself!

All for now.  Bed is calling.

Saturday, 22 November 2014

(smacks face with palm)

I wasn't feeling so well at work yesterday.  Very light-headed and extremely tired.  The sun had finally come out and I was over dressed and hot, and it had been a long walk to the part of the vineyard we were working in and the walk nearly did me in!  So I talked to the senior supervisor I work with (M) and told him I didn't think I could work on the hill block of the next vineyard we were to go to, told him I wasn't feeling well, etc.

He said that was fine, he was going to have the guys do the hill and keep the girls on the flats anyway.  He asked if I needed to go home, I said I was fine and would try to stick it out.  As I went into my own row to work, he commented that my face was very red (and I didn't look so good).

"I don't have sunscreen on," was my reply (I don't burn if it is cloudy, which it had been all day up to this point).  "And I am not walking all the way back to the car to put some on and come all the way back over here."

M said that G, the boss and owner of the vineyard we were working in (who is known for being grumpy), would appreciate my dedication.  Which I decided he should be informed of.

"Tell G I'm burning for him."

Five second delay to realise what I just said (and very near to G's house too), followed by "No!  Not what I meant!  SUNburning!" to a chorus of laughter from those with a good grasp of the English language.

The good news:  G probably didn't hear, and the clouds came back and I didn't burn.

Tuesday, 18 November 2014

Feeling happy about feeling shitty

Nausea is back since yesterday.  I am tired still.  But I am overall feeling less like shit than I did last week.  I hope that means I am adjusting to the hormones, and that those hormones are still multiplying.  My boobs certainly think they are, because holy hell were they sore this morning. 

My midwife called.  She has a cute tiny squeaky voice.  I told her about the spotting (and the cramping, because seriously I have had at least some cramping every day for like 3 weeks).  She's going to get me in for a scan soon, so I should get a call in a day or so to schedule one.  Might be too early for a heartbeat, but maybe not...I have no idea when I might get the appointment, guess it could be late next week or even the week after.  But I think it will be nice to have a look and see what is going on in there regardless. 

Sunday, 16 November 2014


5 weeks and spotting.

Just a little, only on toilet paper, and it is brown...

It has thrown me a little.  I keep telling myself it is just a little old blood and that it doesn't mean anything.  There is nothing I can do anyway except keep on keeping on. 

Saturday, 15 November 2014

Going Dutch

I have a midwife.  My doctor recommended her when I asked which of the three that cover this area are scientific minded no-nonsense drill sergeant types.  The doc said "She is great, even though she's Dutch."  Which of course I thought was a hilarious thing to say.  Dutch midwife has lots of good reviews online too.  From her email, I don't think she will be the type to tell me its all rainbows and unicorn farts.  Anyway, she will give me a call next week.

So tomorrow marks 5 weeks.  I haven't vomited yet, but man I've come close.  Everything is making me queasy today.  I am pretty tired, but I've been sleeping well.  The cramps are less and less frequent and don't seem to last very long when they happen.  I am sore though, like I've been hiking or running or something, and I haven't been.  Boobs are sore sometimes, mostly around the sides and really only noticeable if touched.

Since I spent the morning getting things I put off all week done, I think I may spend the rest of the afternoon slacking.  I should clean the house, but I might put that off until tomorrow!  And Toffs is sleeping on a pile of clothes on the floor, and I don't want to disturb her by cleaning up her new found bed.  

That's about it.  If I had anything else to say, I've forgotten it.

Thursday, 13 November 2014

Numbers and Anger Management.

Got my second beta.  650.  Doubling time is 24 hours, according to the betabase calculator.  I am more than happy with that.  I was hoping it would be above 100.  I am blown away.  Tomorrow I will make an appointment with one of the local midwives.  This is starting to get a bit real now.  The bbt thermometer is getting put away.  Might keep the pre-seed times can be sexy times again...if I can stay up long enough.

Also, another odd number...I've lost 3 kilos.  I am not vomiting.  I am eating a bit more than I was before, but somehow, over the last 3 or so weeks, I have lost weight.  According to the scales.  According to my pants...not so much.  Those 3 kilos were replaced with an equal volume of bloat. 

I am really dealing with some pregnancy rage.  Thankfully not directed towards the Moose (not yet anyway).  I get murderous around some of my coworkers over stupid things.  I hide it by trying to sound uber cheerful when needed, and spending the rest of the time brooding.  So far I haven't shanked anyone...mostly because in every incident in which I have been driven to stabby-ness the person I want to stab is on the other end of the phone.  Lucky them. 

Monday, 10 November 2014


It's darker.

(I don't know why the 10dpo one turned yellow in the window...must have had a strong brew).

Should have beta results in a couple of days.  But I got a nifty maternity pack full of brochures and booklets and stuff, and the Moose dug straight into it and proceeded to tell me all the things I am not supposed to eat.  So helpful, my Moose.

Sunday, 9 November 2014


This is my chart this cycle.  I suspect it is quad-phasic (pre-o, and 3 post-o temp levels), which I think probably means I was abducted by aliens and it is their spawn rather than my own chilling out in my ute and waiting to explode violently through my tummy.  I did have a waking dream the other night of Cleo telling me "They are watching you."  Shudder.  She didn't say who "they" were.

This is the first chemical from May/June.  Beta was at a 6 two days before bleeding.

This is the second chemical from September/October.  Beta was at 2 a whole day after the bleeding started. 

My straight up bfn charts look pretty much like the miscarriage charts but with slightly lower temps post ovulation.  This months chart is just a little weird and unlike any of my others.  Maybe that's a good thing.

I've been debating whether or not to continue temping.  For a little while I think I will.  From these two charts my temp dropped sharp just before bleeding, so I think maybe I will just watch out for that.  For a week or so.  I know temps can vary, but a steep enough drop may at least give me a day to prepare for the worst. 

Tomorrow morning, on 16dpo, I will pee on my last FRER, and hopefully the line will be darker.  I already made an appointment with my doc, but if the line is faint (or fainter) I will cancel and wait to see what happens.

I've spent all day being insanely lazy, but I did get out for a walk before dinner (which was nearly the end of me).  I've only felt sick when I drink water just after eating, or when I get hungry, and for the first time ever, I got hangry with the Moose.  He was supposed to bring me lunch, but instead brought me a coffee.  He has been offering me coffees all weekend, but I only can drink about half of one, which he would know if he listened!  I nearly cried and couldn't bring myself to get off the couch to fix myself something.  Poor Moose was given a little guilt trip.  Boobs still sore off and on.  I still feel pregnant anyway.  I've had rather annoying cramping for about 5 days now.  It is usually dull, sometimes sharp, and generally only lasts a short time.  No spotting or bleeding, though I did spot just a tiny bit on 10dpo.  Just waiting to see what tomorrow brings. 

Also, sexy time does occur outside of the fertile window, I just don't tend to record it.  I realize these charts totally look like I am just using the Moose for his body...which is totally a little true ;)

Saturday, 8 November 2014

I am an awkward moron hoping things don't turn to custard this time around...

If anyone stumbling upon this post is in a not so fun place just now, don't bother reading ahead.  Here are some cute pics of my cats tolerating each other.  Seriously I have only caught them this close 4 times, and only been able to get the camera out 3 times.  Here are two of the pics.  (Yes, the bedroom walls are pink...they've always been that way...its a work in progress...don't judge.  And yes, the curtains came with the house.  Another work in progress).

Now, go find something else to read if you are feeling stabby.  One last cat picture of THE CUTENESS:

That's the last pic.  Read on at your own peril.

Ok.  I am an awkward moron.  Murphy's Law doesn't apply to me.  Instead, this Law of Awkwardness rules my life.  If events can combine to put me in an awkward situation, they will.  Sometimes I put myself there.  Mostly, I blame the universe.  Patron saint of awkward, that's this girl.  Guaranteed to open mouth and say the wrong thing. 

I followed through with my Man-uptober challenge to get myself out there, and you know, talking to people and stuff.  I started commenting on the blogs I follow rather than lurking, I emailed Mel over at Stirrup Queens and got myself on the blogroll.  As a result the traffic to this blog has skyrocketed.  But I was concerned, because when I emailed her, I was sitting at 7dpo.  I was worried that if I managed to get a bfp this month I would not only make myself look like an ass, but would hurt people's feelings.  I had just got my referral to visit the RE, and my doc, as I was leaving, commented that most people she refers get pregnant the month after she gives the referral.  At the time I thought "huh, yeah, right, I may get pregnant, but I'll miscarry".  But between getting the referral, and getting on the blogroll, I have inadvertently activated the Awkward Law and gotten myself pregnant.

At 9dpo, it was the squinty-est squinter ever (when Cleo used me as a scratching post).  As in could that be an indent line?  Maybe I was making myself go all cross eyed and was seeing things as a result.   But I was feeling it.  Sore boobs, a bit queasy.  Of course I checked my charts, and well, those symptoms happen every month regardless at about this time.  But...I was having a definite increase in creamy cm, and that doesn't happen except for when I am pregnant. And oh my god the smell of cooking beef nearly did it for me.  So I was conflicted.  Either something was up or it was all in my head. 

At 10dpo, a slightly less squinty squinter.  But I was really fighting some bouts of nausea.  I went out and bought some FRERs and lo and behold, at 6pm, a faint line.

At 11dpo, peeing on multiple cheapies throughout the day, and comparing squinty lines.  Are they getting darker?  Unsure but oh my god I nearly puked a few times.

12dpo was my only chance to get to the doc for a blood draw, as I couldn't leave work once the senior supervisor was away and I had to work long (LONG) hours.  As the FRER from 12dpo was darker than the first, I figured now was a good time.  If I was going to miscarry this one, I was damn sure going to catch it!  Especially since I didn't catch last month's (Beta was only at 2 after I had been bleeding for a day, so on my chart they wrote "early miscarriage unlikely" to which I would like to add bullshit).  The nurse brought up my chart, so I got to peak at my progesterone results from my Day 21 draw.  72.  Seriously.  I googled it later and proceeded to freak out.  Probably best to ask a real doc about that one.  Because damn did I ovulate this month!!!  I'm surprised my ovaries didn't explode!

13dpo.  The oh-shit-this-is-going-to-custard-why-did-I-get-my-hopes-up-again day.  The line is the same or fainter than yesterday's.  And I get a call from a different nurse, an evil nurse, regarding the beta.  She paused, then said "It doesn't look good, don't get your hopes up."  To which I asked what the number was.  She said 30, and unless it was really early, well...  I told her it was only 12dpo, which totally put her out.  She was all "normally we get people in with numbers in the 100s or 1000s" to which I wanted to punch her in the throat and tell her I am not normal!!!  I am not some person who tossed out the pill and had no idea when the first day of their last period was, and oh, hmm...where's that period, maybe I'm pregnant?  That is not me.  I know exactly where I am in this cycle thank you and I am trying to catch these miscarriages and get them documented so I can save some time later!!  Stupid cow.  If she knew shit about this, she would know that for 12dpo a beta of 30 isn't all that bad.  Not great, but not miscarriage territory.  But I didn't know that until I got home and googled away, so I spent the entire day thinking oh shit well here we go again.  So I ate a whole pizza.  With chorizo and jalapenos and hot sauce.  Comfort food.  I'm not ashamed. 

14dpo.  Today.  Another FRER.  And a darker line.  I've never had them get darker, and the past two miscarriages at 14dpo the lines were faint and getting fainter.  So maybe I have a chance.  Maybe this one will stick.

And that is why I am a moron.  Getting hopes up again.  One minute I feel puke-y and exhausted and just yuck with the burn-y stabby boobs and I am thinking nurseries and maternity clothes and announcements and oh my god baby!  And the next, I feel fine, I have energy, my tum is reasonable, and the boobs are fine and don't really seem any bigger, and I think oh shit well this is it.

When I emailed Mel, expressing my concerns that I could still get pregnant, that maybe I didn't really belong here, she wrote something that really touched me.  That even if I did get pregnant, it didn't take away from the past.  It's taken over a year and a half to get here.  It's taken 2 but probably 3 chemical pregnancies.  It's taken work to lose weight to get my publicly funded referral.  It's taken so many thoughts of why not me?  Why isn't this working for us?  What's wrong with us?  So many negative tests and cd1's.  This hasn't come easy.

I know there are so many others who go through so much more.  I really thought that would be us.  It still could be.  It's early days yet and I am realistic.  17dpo is the longest I have made it in the past.  Today is only 14dop.  We'll see what a few days brings.  Regardless I will still blog here.  I have thousands more pictures of the cats to put up!  And there will be stories of vineyard work (which will probably be pretty boring really), and other random thoughts.  There will be updates on the state of my ute, however it goes.  So...if you don't want to stab me in the forehead and you still want to come around, please do!

P.S.  I just asked the Moose, who is watching snooker, what is so entertaining about watching it.  His reply "They are trying to snooker each other!"  Ha ha, DIRTY!  I might try to snooker him later.

Monday, 3 November 2014

I have the best alarm clock in the world...

My fuzzy alarm clock is generally pretty good.  About half an hour before the real alarm clock is set to go off, Cleo, who sleeps between my knees or feet, wanders up to the head of the bed and purrs.  It is hard to get angry at such a cute alarm clock, and I feel no urge to smack her for a snooze button (my really alarm clock gets a beat down if it actually gets a chance to go off).  So we have cuddles (and I take my bbt) until one minute before the real alarm clock is to go off, at which point I switch it off and get up, and Cleo gets up with me.

There are a few variations on this.  Sometimes she wakes me up only 15 minutes before the alarm is set to go off.  This is the best case scenario, and when she gets into this routine, she can be quite accurate.  There is also the "there's no food in my dish and I'm starving" which involves being very, very insistent and a little bit violent in the cuddles.  I get a few more love bites than usual.  Or maybe she is taste testing me.  Then there are the times when she gets her time off.  As in she wakes me up closer to 4am (on occasion 3am) rather than 5:30am.  Often when I stop the cuddles she goes back to bed, or decides she is brave enough to leave the room on her own.  I may or may not get a second wake up.

Then there is the "my cat is a weirdo" which often happens if I am sleeping too deeply to be awoken by the purrs.  This is when I get my eyeball licked.  Or, if a foot is sticking out of the blankets, my toe sucked.  Yes, Cleo will suck toes.  She does fingers too, but having a cat sucking on your toes will wake you up like nothing else!  And the fangs are sort of in her way so you get nibbled too.  Pull your foot back under the blankets too quickly and you may get pounced upon.  Sometimes alarm clocks are dangerous.

This morning I got the whole thing.  Woken up at 4am, then again at 5:15 (alarm set for 5:45am), the second time by having my eyeball licked, and when I went to get up, she got my toe, and when I quickly pulled my foot back under the blanket, I got attacked.  I figured the food bowls must be empty, but no.  Plenty of food. 

And then, when squinting at a pee stick (because by the time I went to bed last night I was convinced I must be pregnant, but at 9dpo, the hpt disagreed this morning), Cleo decided to use my right leg as a scratching post.

Clearly I exist solely for Cleo's entertainment.
I would question if she had a foot fetish, but there was a (big) beetle in my work boot.  So maybe she just doesn't have much of a sense of smell. 

Saturday, 1 November 2014

"Oh, you come from a poor neighborhood? No candy for you."

I just saw this on the news and it made me angry.  Like really, really angry.  As in writing letters to the editor angry.

In the Auckland suburb of Remuera (and a couple other upscale ones), some residents are asking where the children trick or treating go to school.  If the answer isn't a local school, these adults are telling the kids to go trick or treating in their own neighbourhood, that they aren't wanted here.  If it is a local school, they get candy.

Now, Halloween isn't really much of a thing in New Zealand.  Many people do not participate and have some good reasons for it.  And that is fine.  It is an individuals choice to participate, and I am not going to say that all New Zealand should adopt Halloween. 

What I am saying is that I do not believe it is right to deny a child candy on Halloween because they come from a poor neighbourhood.  Remuera is a wealthy suburb.  Clearly a number of people there choose to hand out candy to children on Halloween.  Some go all out too.  I am sure most people participating there are happy to give candy to all kids who come to their doors, irrespective of where they live.  But a few on the news tonight were not.  They felt that Halloween was not a welfare activity and that these children from poor areas should stay on their side of the tracks.  I am aghast.  Seriously.  Adults, probably well educated, from a wealthy suburb, telling children that they were not welcome in said wealthy suburb. 

1.  People living in a wealthy suburb can probably afford to buy a few more candy bars.  If they can't, perhaps they should reconsider participating at all.

2.  People have every right to go to another neighbourhood to trick or treat.  There is no Halloween law stating that one must stay within ones school district.  In fact, it may be safer to trick or treat in a wealthier suburb.  A poorer neighbourhood may have fewer people able to participate, fewer people willing to spend money on candy (I spent $5 on 24 mini chocolate bars knowing I would get no more than half a dozen kids coming by...small town and all...but if you were expecting fifty kids, or a hundred all adds up when you haven't got a lot of cash).  When I was a kid, we trick or treated in our (relatively) poorer neighbourhood then moved on the the wealthier area up the road.  Guess where the better candy was?  And no one ever, ever asked what street we lived on and told us to go back to where we came from.

3.  These are kids.  They may or may not be aware of their socio-economic status in life, and regardless, they are children.  They were born to a family that is living in a poorer area.  They are not to blame.  Regardless of your opinion on whether or not to blame the parents, I would like to think that we can all agree that THE CHILDREN ARE NOT TO BLAME.

4.  Again.  These are kids.  What are you doing to their self-esteem?  Telling them they don't belong, that they are different to you and are unworthy of your candy bar because of where they live, because they don't have a big house in a wealthy suburb.  Because their parents are shift-workers and factory workers and retail workers instead of executives and doctors and lawyers.  You are telling them that they don't belong in your world, that they cannot hope to be anything more than the place in which they live, the school to which they go.  You are giving them a label and telling them they must wear it for life.  You are denying them admission to your world, to even a glimpse of it.  You are treating them as less than equals.  As sub-human.  AND THEY ARE CHILDREN.

5.  Race.  I don't really know the demographics of the wealthy suburbs mentioned (Remuera, Sandringham, Otahuhu) nor of the poorer suburbs mentioned (not mentioned by name), but I would be very curious to find out.  I think simply saying this is discrimination based solely upon which side of the tracks you live on is perhaps not looking at the whole picture.

I have no idea how long this link will work, as I think TV3 removes things after 20-odd days.  I think the way the story is presented has contributed to my anger.  To me, it sort of comes across as something they find "mildly amusing" rather than "infuriating that children are being treated differently based on where they come from on a trivial but child-focused holiday like Halloween".


It is blowing a gale outside.  I was going to go shopping, do some I think maybe I will stay inside.  I'll have to hang the laundry in the house, or maybe under the carport, as I am pretty sure my portable laundry line, though very stable, will become airborne.  And then I will have to go around town collecting lost knickers, because as I like my cotton granny-panties, I am sure they will make excellent kites.  And it is supposed to be windier tomorrow.  Ugh.  Stupid Roaring 40s.  Always windy this time of year.

I got two packages this morning!  More pee sticks, which I am resisting using since I am only 7dpo and they will be negative regardless, and more knickers, which are in the washing machine now.  I am still awaiting my mug from the podcast.  I love getting packages.  I am really excited about this mug too!! 

Now, a confession.  When I first moved to New Zealand, I sort of forgot about Halloween, because they don't really do it here.  But of course, we had a small handful of kids come trick or treating, and I was caught out with no candy.  I felt terrible.  I am an American.  I should be prepared for this, even if no one really does it here, I should be ready.  So over the past few years, I have made a point of having candy on hand, and have handed it out to the four kids that go trick or treating.  Maybe it was 6 kids.  So this year I bought some candy, 24 mini chocolate bars (yes, I am prepared to give each kid about 4-5 of these...its not like there are many kids here that go trick or treating or make it to my door).  And no kids have come.  Which means I am eating all the chocolate. 

But it doesn't stop there.  I am eating ALL THE THINGS, and have been for the past week.  I haven't gained a kilo yet, which is sort of miraculous really.  I need to get this under control again, and get my ass back out running.  Or at least walking. 

But the wind.  I hate hate HATE running in the wind.  It isn't as bad as biking in the wind, but it still sucks.  And it will probably be windy here for the next four weeks.  Grumble grumble.  So today, after the housework and the Gopher's hockey game (I am a rabid fan and listen online), I will pop a podcast on my ipod, grab my "noise-cancelling" headphones, and go for a nice long walk.  In the wind.  I am a week or two behind on most podcasts.  Who knows, maybe I have won another coffee mug!