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When is the time to admit that you might be slowly going out of your brain? When is the quiet desperation in which we live something that needs greater attention and care? Today I caught a taxi ride to my local shopping centre. It was the first time I had left the house in over a week. Having less than $20 on my being put an end to extended travels, still it didn’t stop me from thinking about making an escape with the monosyllabic driver as my accomplice. Continue reading Little frustrations
Things have been tense in the Lifeslurper Spa Resort since going our separate bloggy ways. The demanding pink and white one has used not so gentle persuasion techniques to convince me to mention that the Festival of Teddy is currently taking place. Only there will these shots make sense…… “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” John Lennon. Anyone facing the ongoing battle to start a family can lose whole years of living swept up in the endless uncertainty of “will we be parents?” Years in, I am yet to find a suitable interim solution to living in the midst of infertility. We no longer talk babies all that much. We don’t chart things anymore. Today is Cycle Day Number Who Cares? I haven’t taken my temperature in so long, wait on, do we even have a thermometer anymore? Perhaps the heartbreak of the fifth failed IVF cycle was the straw that broke this infertiles back? Whatever the case, almost six months have passed since any IVF activity. A 45th birthday came and went without so much as a murmur. Much has changed, but one absolute remains unchanged: we are still no closer to a baby. Continue reading Life Happens. Babies Don’t When we girlies are arrive on this Earth we are born with over one hundred kazillion zillion eggs. At physical maturity we begin to shed them at a rate of three million, four hundred and fifty seven thousand a month until the age of 35. For the next ten years we lose eggs at an accelerating number starting at one point five billion, eight hundred and sixty five thousand a month, and rising up to the unprecedented levels of a kazillion, and nine hundred and ninety nine thousand just prior to the age of 45. Everyone knows it, the fertility specialists remind us every visit. Clinic staff know this too. The receptionist, the cleaners, the boy selling news papers out the front all know that by the age of 45 your eggs are well and truly scrambled. Continue reading Forty five is the new ninety |
 
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