Thursday, March 13, 2008

all this and more

Sydney is particularly beautiful at the change of season and, despite climate change and still cheering government change and not forgetting the spare change I gave to the man with no fingers playing a harmonica in the middle of the footpath, this morning was no exception.

I am in a strange place right now; Tricky getting older and more independent and, well, tricky (but in a good way) and last week the getting of a new job (or jobette as I think of them because being a feckless artiste one rarely gets a proper long term job) and somewhere floating in the back of my mind a wee frozen speck of life waiting for C and I to give the word for the Great Defrosting.

Dr Lovely Accent said that when I was ready I should just call the House Of Groovy IVF Love and activate my cycle. In my mind I envisage a posse of sleeper fertility sisters, syringes poised, reclining in a semi darkened room waiting for the red light to flash. But the truth is, I could have activated them on that day. Instead I told Dr Lovely Accent that it was too soon, that I’d have to wait and check my diary etc and then we could decide. I expect he thought I was a dickhead but he said that was fine and to let him know.

Check my diary? For god’s sake. Why not order hair colour and shoe size while I was at it.

The thing is, it’s not the diary that’s ill prepared for this, it’s me. I want to have another baby and I want that frozen embryo to be it but at the same time I’m only now starting to feel like my body has come back to me, my mind is firming up again. We sleep more. Tricky wakes anytime from 6am (and, very rarely, earlier) and it’s all go from then but he’s usually asleep from 7.30 pm. It’s working. There’s a system. And now I’m about to go and fuck with the system. But this year I turn 40. And if frozen embryo turns up its frozen cells that will be toes and we go for another egg retrieval then… well...time’s ticking. Is all's I'm saying.

One of the outcomes of this jobette is that some sort of consistent childcare for Tricky has become imperative. At the moment we get by with a sort of half and half approach, both C and I are working from home at the moment (but C will be back working in the country after Easter) and we’ve been able to juggle meetings, reports, scripts and budgets around Tricky’s needs. But it’s not going to be enough. And apparently quality childcare isn’t sitting your toddler in front of the spare laptop to watch endless reruns of Hairy McClary on dvd. Who then, and where and how much?

So, all this and more swirling through my mind when we took Tricky out this morning, both of us because C’s just rooted his back and can’t pick Tricky up at the moment. We grabbed a couple of coffees (yes, even me, evil temptation that is caffeine) and pastries and strolled to an inner-city park so that Tricky could expend some energy on the swings and slides.

We had to make do with the swings, at least for a while, because a couple of junkies-in-love were entwined below the slippery dip, shooting up and scratching at each other’s back. This made me cross at first but then I thought, well, if I wanted to shoot up smack maybe I’d sit there too. It was a very pleasant spot with the trees gently swaying and the traffic humming past. Even the pigeons were an attractive white or speckly colour, not the usual rat grey. As I pushed Tricky I watched them, junkies not pigeons, hoping they would go soon. Both guy and girl were wearing neat white socks and tennis shoes, I noticed.

The script producer rang at this moment so I swapped with C and he took over swing pushing and junkie watching and I discussed crossbow homicides and Final Draft. Another toddler, and mother, appeared while I was talking. They had no problem climbing onto the slide above the junkies.

They must be from around here, I thought.

As I finished the call, both toddlers were now stomping and laughing on the slides and ramps. Quite calmly the junkies-in-love gathered together their bits and bobs in a bit of newspaper and meandered out from under the slide.

We should just check they haven’t left a needle under there, the other mother said quietly and I bent and looked under – all clean.

I straightened up and watched the junkies drifting down the lane, the guy stopping to drop his newspaper and contents neatly in a bin.

And Tricky laughed and C held his back and groaned a little and I wondered how long it would take to install Final Draft and the Other Mother talked about her local childcare centre and time ticked on.

And somewhere in the city a speck of frozen life lay waiting.

And it was still a beautiful morning.

15 comments:

Trevor said...

Woooooow (long release of held breath), that's quite a post. Not sure what to say but just wanted to make contact in support.

Remember that, viewed rationally, life will always be too busy to have children...

Rebecca said...

Ovagirl, I've been reading your fantastic blog anonymously for some time now, and you've made me laugh and cry and put into words so much better than I can how I feel about my two little boys. But this is the first time I've really felt like speaking to you directly. I know exactly how you feel about having just regained your life and body. I have been there 100%. But, as my husband said to me, there is never a perfect time to have a baby, and there is something particularly wonderful about watching your children interact. Also sometimes particularly horrendous, usually when it involves synchronised screaming. Yes, you loose almost all the little scraps of free time you still have, and yes, it's exhausting, but I would say it's absolutely worth it. And, forgive me, as I don't know what it is like to go through fertility treatment, and I don't know you, don't you think that there may be a small element of fear holding you back? Fear that it won't work this time, or may not work ever again? I'm sorry if that's not a helpful comment, and when you do decide to go for it, I'll have all my fingers crossed for you.

Mima said...

OG, sounds as if you have masses going through your mind at the moment, and I can't actually reach out and give you a hug, so you will have to have an imaginary cyberspace one instead. What a difficult position, and I can totally understand the fears that are holding you back, and the things that push you on. Maybe it is something that you just needed to take a little time to mull over and go forward in baby steps.

You have taken the first leap in going to the doctor at all, and it sounds as if this is really important to you, but you know what a scary ride the IVF can be so of course you are going to be hesitant (and especially at the thought of your life going upside down again!). If you need to take a little bit of time to really think it over, then do!

By the way I think you were pretty brave with the junkies, I'm not sure I would even have made the swings with them nearby!!

OvaGirl said...

thankyou, I really appreciate these thoughts. It is such a turmoil, this blend of feeling apprehensive of the unknown and ungrateful for the present and fearful that the slivers of my mind that seem to have only just reknitted themselves will unfurl yet again into either the mushbrain of pregnancy or the mindfuck of infertility.

And Mima...the smackies are not the scary ones generally,it's the aggro people on ice that scare me...

calliope said...

wow. what an amazing post. It is actually really helping me at the moment as I am so antsy to get to my frozen specks and this just puts it all in a nice perspective for me.

I can have a beautiful morning without fretting about the specks. I need to keep reminding myself about this.

xo

Spanglish said...

I haven't any idea what to do with my frozen specks so they will just remain frozen. I rarely think of them, and this post made me consider them in a way I've never thought.

Your rendition of the junkies reminds me of a junkie I once met. I'll have to post about him.

Change is always... well, tricky.

LL said...

"a speck of frozen life lay waiting"... I like that...

pixi said...

The prospect of being overwhelmed again is pretty, well, overwhelming. But it's exciting too, no?

Vacant Uterus said...

What a surreal morning. Beautiful post, Ova Girl. My heart caught again and again but never so much as on the last lines.

Vacant Uterus said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Maggie May said...

Its amazing that a speck of frozen life can turn out to be another Tricky!
Was surprised to see that you also get these druggies shooting up in parks! Thought it was only Britain.

lucky #2 said...

Wow -- what a powerful post. Knowing "when" is a good time is hard for everyone. I hope you'll know when it is the right time, but, perhaps tricky's sister "easy" is waiting for you....

Anonymous said...

And another difficulty is that with a frozen speck in storage, you've bought the lottery ticket, but have not yet had the lottery results, so you could still hold the winning numbers. If there are no more frozen 'lottery tickets', you're out of the running. That makes it very hard to decide to use one's last chance. So many conflicts to try and resolve. Wishing you lots of luck, duck.

OvaGirl said...

Yes anon, it's a hard one. On one hand I should be thinking about doing another stimulated cycle asap so that the retrieved eggs are younger(than later) and then if the FET fails we can go to those rather than (the way we seem to be going) the FET and then if that fails maybe the stimulated cycle.

Anonymous said...

Well, a fresh cycle has a higher rate of success than a frozen, so it might be a good choice to go for the new cycle earlier, as you say, rather than later. Easy to say but of course that brings the horror of injections et al. Don't know if it's the same in Oz but here in the UK an FET means nasal spray and pills, not injections, so a lot less invasive than a fresh egg collection work-up. I am in a very similar position to you at present. Just try not to find yourself getting so focused on the road that the pedals run away with you. x