On Saturday, my twelve year old niece and godchild Lisa captained her school's football team to victory in the county schools final. I'm convinced she will play for our county yet, and when she does I will be there in Croke Park cheering her on. What a wonderful talented kid. I'm so proud to be her godmother.
In other news, AF rode in on her red broomstick this morning. To be honest, I wasn't all that disappointed this month. If anything, after all the partying of the last week in honour of my 40th, I would have been a little freaked out at the thoughts of a pregnancy this month. I pretty much knew that it wasn't going to be our month so no major let down there.
We are all set for our holidays (did I mention we are off to Italy? No? Well we are, on Thursday, nah-nah-nee-nah-naaaaaaah!) I was in Limerick yesterday in TK.Maxx and picked myself up the most blingtastic pair of Versace shades for €80. I mean dahhling, if you're going to Milan, you've got to look the part, right? Oh I can't wait....only 3 more sleeps to go and we're on the plane. Wooo hoooo!
Monday, June 8, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Life begins
I have been keeping a low profile in blogland for the past week or so. Partly because I have shuffled off the shackles of full time employment, so I'm not tethered to a desk and computer for seven hours a day anymore. You can tell I obviously loved my job, by the way. Anyway, a brief rundown of the past week:
Wednesday night was the night before I was due to finish up at work. I was doing some shopping for the birthday party that evening, and then I called in to see a friend of mine. It was 11.30pm before I got to bed, and when I did, the most crippling gut pain enveloped me. I ended up running in and out to the bathroom all night. And not in a throwing up, might be pregnant way. More in a bad food poisoning Johnny Cash song way. Not good. The following day, I phoned work to say I wouldn't be in until lunchtime. So in I went around 12.30. Most of the day was spent copying files and photos onto a memory stick, emailing my goodbyes to overseas colleagues and saying goodbye face to face to Irish based colleagues. I was presented with a yummy cake, a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and a voucher for my favourite beauty salon from my department, along with a 40th birthday card and a Sorry you're leaving card.
That night was a repeat of the previous one in terms of the tummy bug. John was working tirelessly on the sunroom all week to try and get as much of it completed as possible for the party. Mainly cosmetic stuff like indoor plastering and cladding. The house pretty much still resembled a building site the next day when I hit for Dublin to bring my niece to Beyonce. I still had the remains of the trots, but I managed to make it to my sister's house in Kildare by 5.30, and from there we bussed it to the O2 stadium for the concert.
I have never in my life bought a Beyonce CD, but I figured she would put on a good show, and that my 14 year old niece would get a great kick out of going to see her for her first big grown up concert. I was very right on both counts. The show started at 8pm with a warm up act from a singer called Chantelle. She said she was Beyonce's sister, but I don't know if she meant blood relation sister or sistah. Either way, she had a fine pair of lungs on her. The main woman herself came on stage around 9.15. And wow, she was totally worth the wait. As stunningly gorgeous in the flesh as she is on TV, she treated us to what can only be described as a spectacular show. She even belted out an Alannis Morrisette song at one point, as well as a rendition of Ave Maria in Latin. Amazing.
The following morning I was on the motorway again, heading home to prepare for the party. Thankfully the tummy bug had left the building at that stage. When I got home, John presented me with the first part of my birthday present, a Wii! I loved it! Then came the big surprise, when he brought me out to the sunroom to show me the work he had done, and there mounted on the wall was a 42 inch LCD TV. To say my jaw dropped would be an understatement. Shortly after that, an interflora van arrived, with two beautiful bouquets of flowers and a bottle of champagne from some friends who couldn't make it on the night.
I then set in and started vacuuming and making up beds for guests. At around 2pm my cousin phoned from the local hotel where she was staying. She turned 40 that day, so it was lovely to share a big milestone birthday together. For somebody who had never visited us in our house before, she totally rowed in and helped us with the cleanup. It was like "Hi Siobhan, welcome to Tipperary, happy birthday, now here's the vacuum cleaner, I'm off to the hairdresser's, see you in two hours, byeeee!" I had a hairdresser's appointment at 3.45pm, so I had to abandon ship for a couple of hours and leave my army of helpers to it. By the time I got back the place was gleaming, and my parents, sister and more friends from Dublin had arrived.
I had hired two eight foot tables, sixteen fold down chairs and 30 champagne flutes from a cater hire firm in Limerick. Totally worth it. Also, I went very grown up and posh and hired my next door neighbour to do the catering. And what a job she did. Her and her fiance slaved over a hot barbeque, and served up a feast. We set up the sunroom with the tables, chairs, white table clothes, silver star table confetti, gold helium balloons and lighted tea lights. It really looked fantastic. My mum had seen the building site that was our house that morning, and said the transformation was like something out of a reality TV show, like Changing Rooms!
We partied until the sun came up, and long after. The funniest part of the night was when the assembled crew sang happy birthday to me, with the help of the remaining helium balloons. It was like being serenaded by a small army of smurfs! One of my friends caught it on video, so when I get it off her I will post it on here. My brother brought his guitar, so around 2.30am the obligitary sing song started. Around 4am I have hazy memories of playing a four man game of Mario Karts, which I had to do with one eye closed as I was having difficulties focusing on the screen at that stage! All in all an excellent party and a fitting way to embark on my new decade.
The other amazing thing about the past week has been the weather. The mediteranean miraculously came to Ireland this day last week and it hasn't left yet. The weather has been up in the late 20's, although it cooled down a little today. This has meant we've had a few very pleasant evenings since the party, sitting in either the garden or the sunroom sipping rose and feeling like we are on holidays, which we will be this time next week. So I am taking to this life of leisure really well. Already my energy levels are higher and I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. My 2 week wait is due to end on Monday, and quite honestly I'm not obsessing about it, which is a huge change for me. Long may this feeling last
Wednesday night was the night before I was due to finish up at work. I was doing some shopping for the birthday party that evening, and then I called in to see a friend of mine. It was 11.30pm before I got to bed, and when I did, the most crippling gut pain enveloped me. I ended up running in and out to the bathroom all night. And not in a throwing up, might be pregnant way. More in a bad food poisoning Johnny Cash song way. Not good. The following day, I phoned work to say I wouldn't be in until lunchtime. So in I went around 12.30. Most of the day was spent copying files and photos onto a memory stick, emailing my goodbyes to overseas colleagues and saying goodbye face to face to Irish based colleagues. I was presented with a yummy cake, a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and a voucher for my favourite beauty salon from my department, along with a 40th birthday card and a Sorry you're leaving card.
That night was a repeat of the previous one in terms of the tummy bug. John was working tirelessly on the sunroom all week to try and get as much of it completed as possible for the party. Mainly cosmetic stuff like indoor plastering and cladding. The house pretty much still resembled a building site the next day when I hit for Dublin to bring my niece to Beyonce. I still had the remains of the trots, but I managed to make it to my sister's house in Kildare by 5.30, and from there we bussed it to the O2 stadium for the concert.
I have never in my life bought a Beyonce CD, but I figured she would put on a good show, and that my 14 year old niece would get a great kick out of going to see her for her first big grown up concert. I was very right on both counts. The show started at 8pm with a warm up act from a singer called Chantelle. She said she was Beyonce's sister, but I don't know if she meant blood relation sister or sistah. Either way, she had a fine pair of lungs on her. The main woman herself came on stage around 9.15. And wow, she was totally worth the wait. As stunningly gorgeous in the flesh as she is on TV, she treated us to what can only be described as a spectacular show. She even belted out an Alannis Morrisette song at one point, as well as a rendition of Ave Maria in Latin. Amazing.
The following morning I was on the motorway again, heading home to prepare for the party. Thankfully the tummy bug had left the building at that stage. When I got home, John presented me with the first part of my birthday present, a Wii! I loved it! Then came the big surprise, when he brought me out to the sunroom to show me the work he had done, and there mounted on the wall was a 42 inch LCD TV. To say my jaw dropped would be an understatement. Shortly after that, an interflora van arrived, with two beautiful bouquets of flowers and a bottle of champagne from some friends who couldn't make it on the night.
I then set in and started vacuuming and making up beds for guests. At around 2pm my cousin phoned from the local hotel where she was staying. She turned 40 that day, so it was lovely to share a big milestone birthday together. For somebody who had never visited us in our house before, she totally rowed in and helped us with the cleanup. It was like "Hi Siobhan, welcome to Tipperary, happy birthday, now here's the vacuum cleaner, I'm off to the hairdresser's, see you in two hours, byeeee!" I had a hairdresser's appointment at 3.45pm, so I had to abandon ship for a couple of hours and leave my army of helpers to it. By the time I got back the place was gleaming, and my parents, sister and more friends from Dublin had arrived.
I had hired two eight foot tables, sixteen fold down chairs and 30 champagne flutes from a cater hire firm in Limerick. Totally worth it. Also, I went very grown up and posh and hired my next door neighbour to do the catering. And what a job she did. Her and her fiance slaved over a hot barbeque, and served up a feast. We set up the sunroom with the tables, chairs, white table clothes, silver star table confetti, gold helium balloons and lighted tea lights. It really looked fantastic. My mum had seen the building site that was our house that morning, and said the transformation was like something out of a reality TV show, like Changing Rooms!
We partied until the sun came up, and long after. The funniest part of the night was when the assembled crew sang happy birthday to me, with the help of the remaining helium balloons. It was like being serenaded by a small army of smurfs! One of my friends caught it on video, so when I get it off her I will post it on here. My brother brought his guitar, so around 2.30am the obligitary sing song started. Around 4am I have hazy memories of playing a four man game of Mario Karts, which I had to do with one eye closed as I was having difficulties focusing on the screen at that stage! All in all an excellent party and a fitting way to embark on my new decade.
The other amazing thing about the past week has been the weather. The mediteranean miraculously came to Ireland this day last week and it hasn't left yet. The weather has been up in the late 20's, although it cooled down a little today. This has meant we've had a few very pleasant evenings since the party, sitting in either the garden or the sunroom sipping rose and feeling like we are on holidays, which we will be this time next week. So I am taking to this life of leisure really well. Already my energy levels are higher and I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. My 2 week wait is due to end on Monday, and quite honestly I'm not obsessing about it, which is a huge change for me. Long may this feeling last
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Counting down
Next Sunday I will celebrate my 40th birthday, and embark on my fifth decade. Well actually, Saturday night at 8pm is when the celebrations are kicking off, with a barbeque in our house for family and friends. A few months back I decided that I wasn't going to go into a corner and sulk about turning 40, no matter what our situation was by then. I was of course hoping that I would be pregnant by the time the big milestone came along, but no such luck. Although I am currently on the two week wait, due to end on June 8th. So I might be, and not know it. Or I might not. I'm not going to tie myself in knots wondering about it, I'm just going to enjoy the party.
I was thinking back the other day on my thirties, and all the things that have happened to me over the past ten years. It was by far the best decade so far. I holidayed and travelled more than ever before, to Greece, Turkey, Spain, Portugal, France, Holland, Belgium, USA, Malaysia, Thailand, Singapore, Australia, and Cuba. I studied part time and gained a professional qualification in Management Accountancy. I learned to drive and passed my driving test finally at the age of 36 (hey, better late than never!) and bought myself a car. I got divorced and remarried. I bought my first house. All in all a very good decade.
So what's in store for my forties? Will life begin on Sunday? I'm finishing up in work at the end of this week, so that heralds a new chapter in life. I'm looking forward to taking time off over the Summer, but hoping that the break won't be too long. We finally booked our Italian trip, and we are flying to Bergamo on June 11th to spend seven days in Riva del Garda and three days in Bergamo, hopefully with some day trips thrown in like Verona and Milan. Neither of us have ever been to Italy before, so I am really looking forward to the holiday.
So here's to the next decade. Let the adventure begin!
I was thinking back the other day on my thirties, and all the things that have happened to me over the past ten years. It was by far the best decade so far. I holidayed and travelled more than ever before, to Greece, Turkey, Spain, Portugal, France, Holland, Belgium, USA, Malaysia, Thailand, Singapore, Australia, and Cuba. I studied part time and gained a professional qualification in Management Accountancy. I learned to drive and passed my driving test finally at the age of 36 (hey, better late than never!) and bought myself a car. I got divorced and remarried. I bought my first house. All in all a very good decade.
So what's in store for my forties? Will life begin on Sunday? I'm finishing up in work at the end of this week, so that heralds a new chapter in life. I'm looking forward to taking time off over the Summer, but hoping that the break won't be too long. We finally booked our Italian trip, and we are flying to Bergamo on June 11th to spend seven days in Riva del Garda and three days in Bergamo, hopefully with some day trips thrown in like Verona and Milan. Neither of us have ever been to Italy before, so I am really looking forward to the holiday.
So here's to the next decade. Let the adventure begin!
Monday, May 18, 2009
Nollaig
This day two years ago, we found out that I had suffered my second miscarriage in six months. I was just over nine weeks along, the furthest I have gotten with any pregnancy. I'm not going to post all the details again, as I have told the story before.
As with my first pregnancy, I had a strong gut feeling as to the sex of this baby. I tend to have witch like tendancies when it comes to babies, in that at one stage, whenever I dreamed of a pregnancy in my family, it was pretty much always followed by a real life pregnancy announcement. During this pregnancy, I repeatedly dreamed about baby girls, so I was convinced that I was carrying a girl. I even tried the old wives tale test of hanging my wedding ring on a piece of thread and dangling it over my belly, just for the laugh. I swore it was going around in circles on its own (circles are supposed to be for a girl, back and over for a boy) although John was pretty sure that it was my hand rotating in circles, not the wedding ring :)
She would have been due on December 21st 2007, so I was pretty much resigned to spending Christmas in the maternity hospital. Sadly, we lost her seven months before that. As with my previous pregnancy, I decided to have her recorded at the Shrine of the Holy Innocents. When it came to naming her, we picked the name Nollaig, which is the Irish word for Christmas, and is the Irish translation of the name Noelle or Noel.
In our lives for a short time, but in our hearts forever. Our little Nollaig.
As with my first pregnancy, I had a strong gut feeling as to the sex of this baby. I tend to have witch like tendancies when it comes to babies, in that at one stage, whenever I dreamed of a pregnancy in my family, it was pretty much always followed by a real life pregnancy announcement. During this pregnancy, I repeatedly dreamed about baby girls, so I was convinced that I was carrying a girl. I even tried the old wives tale test of hanging my wedding ring on a piece of thread and dangling it over my belly, just for the laugh. I swore it was going around in circles on its own (circles are supposed to be for a girl, back and over for a boy) although John was pretty sure that it was my hand rotating in circles, not the wedding ring :)
She would have been due on December 21st 2007, so I was pretty much resigned to spending Christmas in the maternity hospital. Sadly, we lost her seven months before that. As with my previous pregnancy, I decided to have her recorded at the Shrine of the Holy Innocents. When it came to naming her, we picked the name Nollaig, which is the Irish word for Christmas, and is the Irish translation of the name Noelle or Noel.
In our lives for a short time, but in our hearts forever. Our little Nollaig.
More condom conundrums
My post last week regarding our fertility clinic and their Catholic ethos and approach to collection of semen for analyis proved to be a bit of a jaw dropper. Xbox was saying that as far as he was aware, the Catholic Church had no issue with IUI, as it does not involve the discarding of fertilitised ova. I thought that they were averse to IUI, on the grounds that the collection of semen by means of "manual methods" constitutes an immoral act. I did a bit of googling to investigate further the Catholic Church's stance on IUI. Here's what I found.
Basically, the Catholic Church is ok with IUI, as long as the sperm is obtained through what they term "licit means", as in through an act of sexual intercourse between husband and wife, using a perforated condom as a collection device. From what I can gather, the condom has to be perforated in order to comply with the church's regulations as regards contraceptive devices. Which is laughable really, considering the fact that any couple pursuing fertility treatments are doing so because they cannot conceive without medical intervention. I very much doubt if any of them with Houdini like tendancies are going to make their way to the fallopian tubes if they couldn't manage it without the obstruction of a condom in their way.
It's all a bit bizarre really. They don't want fertile people to prevent themselves conceiving, and they don't want infertile people enlisting the help of medical professionals to enable them to conceive. No wonder people my generation are deserting the church in their droves. Thankfully we are now living in an Ireland which is not ruled by the church, and fertility treatments are widely available, albeit if you have the money to pay for them. It's about time that health insurance cover was available for fertility treatments in Ireland, but that's a whole other rant.
Basically, the Catholic Church is ok with IUI, as long as the sperm is obtained through what they term "licit means", as in through an act of sexual intercourse between husband and wife, using a perforated condom as a collection device. From what I can gather, the condom has to be perforated in order to comply with the church's regulations as regards contraceptive devices. Which is laughable really, considering the fact that any couple pursuing fertility treatments are doing so because they cannot conceive without medical intervention. I very much doubt if any of them with Houdini like tendancies are going to make their way to the fallopian tubes if they couldn't manage it without the obstruction of a condom in their way.
It's all a bit bizarre really. They don't want fertile people to prevent themselves conceiving, and they don't want infertile people enlisting the help of medical professionals to enable them to conceive. No wonder people my generation are deserting the church in their droves. Thankfully we are now living in an Ireland which is not ruled by the church, and fertility treatments are widely available, albeit if you have the money to pay for them. It's about time that health insurance cover was available for fertility treatments in Ireland, but that's a whole other rant.
Monday, May 11, 2009
And so it continues....
I get the feeling that this blog is becoming somewhat repetitive.
Day 1 - Angst ridden rant.
Day 7 - I fucking hate clomid. Boo hoo, sob, sob.
CD 15 - Wooo hoo, let the horizontal tango commence.
8 DPO - Are these real symptoms or am I just pimping?
15 DPO - Oh fuck it I don't care anymore. But I might just do a sneaky test....BFN...fuck.
Day 1 - Angst ridden rant.
I kept the angst ridden rant short and sweet this month. To be honest, I wasn't really expecting to be pregnant. We were a wee bit hit and missing with our timings, mainly due to me being unusually busy at work and running around like a blue arsed fly entertaining my work guest. And let's face it, if the previous month's military campaign that is the SMEP plan didn't work, then this was hardly going to. So no major shock when I woke up early on Thursday morning and blearily went in search of painkillers. This does mean that with my birthday in less than three weeks, there will be no chance for a BFP before my 40th, which sucks.
I mentioned that we had a visit to the fertility clinic the week before last. The fertility clinic we are with have the objective of taking the more "natural" approach. So that excludes IUI or IVF. They do however prescribe clomid, pregnyl and all manner of fertility drugs, which in my book stretches the bounds of "natural" ferility treatment somewhat. Their ethos is very much a Catholic one. The manual we were given at our first appointment was full of quotes from scripture, papal encyclicals, and much denouncing the evil on society that is artificial contraception. Heavy stuff. But if it gets us a baby at the end of all this, then I'm prepared to suck it up (although that's probably on their list of banned acts, fnarrr fnarrr).
Anyway, this visit our good doctor suggested that we get John's side of it checked out, as in an SA. I was always wondering how they did this, since, shall we say manual handling of one's own wedding tackle is after all a mortal sin. It turns out they have a way around this. John was given on our way out of the clinic, a perforated condom and a collecting jar. The rationale she gave us for this was that pre-ejaculatory fluid contains mucho sperm, and this isn't collected properly when one bashes the bishop, so to speak (I'm so looking forward to reviewing my google analytics account after this post). So in keeping with the "Every sperm is sacred" ethos, we have to have sex using a perforated condom, then John has to quickly decant the resulting product into a jar, hose down his undercarriage, get his clothes on, and drive to the nearest lab which is approximately 40 minutes drive away in light traffic, and deposit the sample within one hour of production. Why do I suddenly have the theme to "Mission impossible" going around my brain? The doctor suggested that maybe we have a romantic night somewhere nearer the hospital. This is all well and good but the hospital is in Limerick, a city more famous for drive by shootings and stabbings than romantic getaways. It's just such never ending fun isn't it?
Other than that, the doctor decided to try me on a couple more supplements, since I'm clearly not shoving enough capsules, tablets and horse pills down my neck every day. So here's a run down on my chemical consumption for an average month:
Every day of cycle:
2 x fertility plus for women (seriously evil smelling and tasting capsules, shudder)
2 x pyrodoxine (Vit B6)
1 x probiotic capsule
1 x omega something fish oil
2 x glutamine (for better cervical mucous production)
1 x Vitamin D
1 x Calcium supplement
3 x Fertile CM supplement (same purpose as glutamine)
1 x Low dose Naltrexone
Days 3-7:
3 x 50 mg clomid
Day 12-19:
3 x mucodyne capsules
3, 5, 7 & 9 DPO:
1 x pregnyl injection
Natural fertility treatment indeed.
Day 1 - Angst ridden rant.
Day 7 - I fucking hate clomid. Boo hoo, sob, sob.
CD 15 - Wooo hoo, let the horizontal tango commence.
8 DPO - Are these real symptoms or am I just pimping?
15 DPO - Oh fuck it I don't care anymore. But I might just do a sneaky test....BFN...fuck.
Day 1 - Angst ridden rant.
I kept the angst ridden rant short and sweet this month. To be honest, I wasn't really expecting to be pregnant. We were a wee bit hit and missing with our timings, mainly due to me being unusually busy at work and running around like a blue arsed fly entertaining my work guest. And let's face it, if the previous month's military campaign that is the SMEP plan didn't work, then this was hardly going to. So no major shock when I woke up early on Thursday morning and blearily went in search of painkillers. This does mean that with my birthday in less than three weeks, there will be no chance for a BFP before my 40th, which sucks.
I mentioned that we had a visit to the fertility clinic the week before last. The fertility clinic we are with have the objective of taking the more "natural" approach. So that excludes IUI or IVF. They do however prescribe clomid, pregnyl and all manner of fertility drugs, which in my book stretches the bounds of "natural" ferility treatment somewhat. Their ethos is very much a Catholic one. The manual we were given at our first appointment was full of quotes from scripture, papal encyclicals, and much denouncing the evil on society that is artificial contraception. Heavy stuff. But if it gets us a baby at the end of all this, then I'm prepared to suck it up (although that's probably on their list of banned acts, fnarrr fnarrr).
Anyway, this visit our good doctor suggested that we get John's side of it checked out, as in an SA. I was always wondering how they did this, since, shall we say manual handling of one's own wedding tackle is after all a mortal sin. It turns out they have a way around this. John was given on our way out of the clinic, a perforated condom and a collecting jar. The rationale she gave us for this was that pre-ejaculatory fluid contains mucho sperm, and this isn't collected properly when one bashes the bishop, so to speak (I'm so looking forward to reviewing my google analytics account after this post). So in keeping with the "Every sperm is sacred" ethos, we have to have sex using a perforated condom, then John has to quickly decant the resulting product into a jar, hose down his undercarriage, get his clothes on, and drive to the nearest lab which is approximately 40 minutes drive away in light traffic, and deposit the sample within one hour of production. Why do I suddenly have the theme to "Mission impossible" going around my brain? The doctor suggested that maybe we have a romantic night somewhere nearer the hospital. This is all well and good but the hospital is in Limerick, a city more famous for drive by shootings and stabbings than romantic getaways. It's just such never ending fun isn't it?
Other than that, the doctor decided to try me on a couple more supplements, since I'm clearly not shoving enough capsules, tablets and horse pills down my neck every day. So here's a run down on my chemical consumption for an average month:
Every day of cycle:
2 x fertility plus for women (seriously evil smelling and tasting capsules, shudder)
2 x pyrodoxine (Vit B6)
1 x probiotic capsule
1 x omega something fish oil
2 x glutamine (for better cervical mucous production)
1 x Vitamin D
1 x Calcium supplement
3 x Fertile CM supplement (same purpose as glutamine)
1 x Low dose Naltrexone
Days 3-7:
3 x 50 mg clomid
Day 12-19:
3 x mucodyne capsules
3, 5, 7 & 9 DPO:
1 x pregnyl injection
Natural fertility treatment indeed.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Here we go again.
I was awoken this morning around 5.45 with period pains. Ding ding, clomid round ten begins.
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