lifeslurper

The new life starts here!

It’s that time of the year.

Being a glass half empty kind of a gal, I have to do my best to not view the year as being over by the time we pass June. It is a yearly ritual. Something I blame on too many years spent as a student*, viewing the world and indeed my life in terms of the calendar year. In the latter half of the year I tend to dismiss the months remain as the fag end of the calendar, making my own silent vows to make better use of my time in the New Year.

Since infertility and ART reared its ugly head in my life, I have become rather time obsessed. I am not suggesting that IVF has assisted me in making better use of my time. Sadly, the real result seems to be an acute obsession with passing time that seems to lead to even more time wasting than my old ways.

There was a time when I secretly felt time might be on my side. I had been a late starter in everything, especially the things I had wanted most desperately to achieve; my first boyfriend, the start of my professional working life, living by my favourite ocean, buying a house, falling in love, and now the very late (unfulfilled) baby quest. I developed this homespun Lifeslurper philosophy along the lines the old expression of good things come to those who wait. Every day I bask in the glow of late love. Sure, My Wobbles is not a perfect being, but he is perfect for me. We enjoy each other’s company and try not to regret the years of loneliness that certainly lead me to a feeling that I would never be loved, never get to love. When I found him, a found a wonderful him. If only all the time (and men!) before had been put to better use.

I find myself in a similar situation with infertility. I think there is unlikely to be a baby, but know better that I had better make some plans in case there is a baby. My first year with Wobbles was spent in shock. He was fabulous, our time together joyous. I feared that I may have dreamt him into existence. I often touched him just to check he was real.

In doing IVF treatment we are putting ourselves in some kind of chance to have a baby, or at least that is what some fertility pundits suggest. There are many things to do before a baby is conceived, and many other things to get in place before anything happens. Lifeslurper is finally mature enough to at least realise that there would never be enough preparation possible to get life really sorted out before the arrival of our would-be family. Conversely, I know we need some things in order for when our family fails to arrive. Whatever the results of our baby making efforts, I find myself grappling with making plans and attempting to organise myself out of the malaise that IVF has created in my life.

How does a procrastinator get herself going? What do you do when life events are going to decide your actions anyhow? Where do you begin to organise yourself when you clearly have no self-organisation skills?

My career imploded a few years back. A rural location and the need for extended travel during IVF cycles have not made starting a new job practical. By the close of the year we need to relocate to another city, a much larger centre, for Wobbles’ work. This had been supposed to happen a year ago. The cancellation has assisted me in my disbelief that this move would ever take place. Geographic location; it and infertility are my constant sources of ‘limbo living’ never quite knowing what is going to happen, and when it will happen. The only real difference is that infertility has been an issue for a relatively short amount of time, while geographic location has been a constant problem for the decades prior to my life with Wobbles. Lifeslurper’s numerous relocations and changes in search of permanency will be the source of many blog entries to come.

Keeping in mind that the down hill race to the end of the year is occurring against a background of infertility and relocation uncertainty, there are other practicalities to be addressed. Lifeslurper is determined to not waste time too scared to live life while waiting for the confirmation and decisions involving another upcoming move. Along with the couple of dozen moves since the age of 17 (for once I am not exaggerating!) there has been the time lost leading to the planning, the packing, the finding of a new home (and so on) and all the time lost afterwards spent unpacking, reorientating, and recovering. I estimate I have lost years spent in the lead up and aftermath of the moving house, city or state situation. Thankfully, I am yet to move country!

I feel an increasing need to be in control of my existence and my future. Things have sort of been sliding in my time since meeting Wobbles. It is hard to say if it was the joy of finding something so beautiful, or the resulting arrival of infertility (and therefore ART) into my world, or a combination of both. For the large part I had been independent, and had struggled my way through some hard times alone over an extended time. My closest ally usually had been my dear old and long-suffering mother, Nanny Lifeslurper. It was a tough road I had found myself on, and in the year or so prior to meeting Wobbles I had made some big changes. Perhaps prompted by the painful death of a beautiful niece (the person who loved me most after Nanny Lifeslurper) I decided to be true to myself, cease fighting things I couldn’t change, find the best way to settle down finally – in the one location forever, never moving again, never accepting work that would cause me grief, and never allowing those who would seek to do me harm into my life again. I was to learn how to be content with my ‘lot’ in life and live a quiet life. Enjoy the little house I had bought, direct the love I felt was unwanted towards this neglected building and enjoy the onset of middle age. It was not what I had started out wanting for myself, but it was the safest thing I could find.

This can’t help but sound like one of those “just when you stop looking” urban myths, as it is true. Adjustments needed to be made, I had to say goodbye to my little house and adopted hometown for a new life with Wobbles. For once I had not been out to make a new life for myself, but did finally get one, and a good one it sorely is.

In these dying embers of the year, I plan to continue with my diet and exercise regime as a matter of urgency for my general well being, my health, my relationship and in the hope of enhancing my fertility. I will continue to attend the round of appointments to support our baby making efforts, whatever they may be; fertility coaching, fertility specialist, general practitioner, thyroid testing, naturopathy, physiotherapy, acupuncture to name but a few. I need to start a daily regime of packing up the house in the lead up to putting it on the market for sale. This will be a major de-clutter task with the two of us being book collecting hoarders living in very crowded close quarters. Two boxes of books a day, that will add up to 60 in a month, 120 in two months. We might almost make it.

Practical matters mean I have to keep up some level of household organisation in these less than ideal living circumstances. To earn some kind of funds to help pay for all of these projects I need to make sure I add auctions to eBay on a five day a week basis. Housework and making money; my least favourite chores.

Then there are creative endeavours. These too are essential to my well being. This blog will continue on, and I will increase my involvement in a secret blog project now under development. Wobbles to continue to ask to see drafts of my novel, so I will get serious about my work on that. I do not want to spend the rest of my days wondering what could have been. I am realistic enough to know that this man, in his unswerving devotion is bound to think I was the most creative person there ever was. Still, one way or another I need to exorcise this ghost for once and for all! Another thing that has haunted me for a number of years is the completion of my “edumuckation” this is that perfect time to do that last higher degree. Again, it does help having someone by my side who is willing to claim I am incredibly clever. If Wobbles had his way, he’d like me to spend a couple of years to become Dr. Lifeslurper. Amusing as that might sound, I am willing to give it a try.

It might all be too much, but it at least it is some kind of a plan. This is the first plan I have developed since I fell in love with Wobbles and we devised our little plan to have a baby.

It is Wobbles and the enticing thought of our future together that gives me the willingness to explore what is possible for me, in my new life – where ever that might be located.

* Note to overseas readers, the Australian education system sees school and tertiary teaching years coincide with the calendar year.