My family

We took some photos of the three of us the other night. Lolly was so rapt we both got down and put our heads next to her. I think she even struck a funny photo smile, the kind that becomes a little kid's trademark (mine was always a very demure cocked head, like Lady Di used to do - it's difficult to find a photo of me pre-15 years old without it). She turned from Steve to me, over and over, and made all those breathy, awestruck baby sounds I've waited years to hear from my own baby but have always made do with getting close to nieces/nephews, kids at Creches where I worked in my younger days, etc.

When we uploaded the photos to the computer, I was so overwhelmed by them. To me, they are awesome. To anyone looking at them, we are the picture of a happy family with their first little bub. All the time in the world to actually get down there and take that snap. And here's where the familiar taste of bittersweetness hits me.

Do I ever have to let go the fact that this is not my whole family? The sum total of "us" is there physically on that play mat in that picture, for all anyone who doesn't know us or our story knows or cares. But there is one very special, achingly distant big ol' soul who is a part of us yet never there, forever just out of tangible reach. Will I ever get to a point where I introduce me, Steve and Lauryn as "my family" and drop the explanation that we also have a big sister, Ellanor, who died as a baby? It pains me every time I have to bring her into it, do I add her to cards at Christmas time especially now we have Lauryn? I feel like, to make her existence real to Lolly, I would surely have to include her as a part of our family.

But it's also uncomfortable to do so. I am certain there are some people (probably through their own discomfort) who would assume it's me "not coping" - that ridiculous turn of phrase which I despise so much in the way it's used as a blanket term - and not letting go. And yes, it is true I shouldn't worry about what other people think. It's not that I worry so much as the fact that I would dearly hope everyone gets the fact that Ella is ALWAYS going to be included in our everyday lives (although she's not spoken of very often, as such, but she's just interwoven into our family just like any family member whether or not you spend your days talking or thinking about them). That it is always going to be extremely difficult on holiday/family occasions for us, despite the fact we have a second child now. I am keenly aware of Father's Day coming up. A day I have said before that, like Mother's Day, is not an important day in this household - it's a gimmick day if you ask me or Steve - but we recognise it as special to other parents in the family and also feel the pressure to attend celebration of those two days.

I'm suspecting the assumption this year will be that we'll be so ecstatic that we now have Lauryn to share these days with. But to try and explain that it just makes them so very much harder because we should be receiving hand made cards from an excited 2 1/2 year old now would make me sound like I'm a glass half empty kind of person.

If I look hard enough, I see Ellanor all over this photo. In the whole series of them we snapped giddily with our little Lolly so excitedly looking at our faces so close to hers. Every time a moment like this happens, I will be jerked back to a feeling of loss. Of immense pride and love. And loss. It will never be shaken or grown out of. Not distance nor years nor new memories will ever erase it. Ella lives alongside us. Forever 4 weeks old. But also forever Lauryn's older sister. As Lolly gets older and older, day by day clocking up new milestones, so too does my feeling of Ellanor - I think of her as being older than Lauryn despite the fact that she is now almost two weeks older than her sister was before she left this Earth.

And here endeth the ramble. Before I overthink it all.

These are the posts which get me thinking I really, really need to make my lunch date with Alliecat. Soon.

A good change is not necessarily a quick change...

Ok, so it was one of *those* moments.

Ever bursting with wonder at the miracle of that little single cell which grew into something that not only put a second line on a wee stick, and many many more lines on my stomach, but stole my heart long before I saw her, it can still happen. That moment you just want to end. The moment of tending to your little cherub that is making your back ache, your melted heart break and quite frankly, regret that you didn't pause the live stream of the Emmy Awards with your Foxtel IQ button (ahhh, magic button, where have you been all my life?).

My reasons are thus:
Miss Lolly was in her Monday best, a) because we were going to visit the Homeopath - that man I almost had a blarney with in all my hormonal haughtiness, and b) because it's probably the last time she'll fit in that top and those pants. All went smoothly. We came home. She slept in her *nice* clothes, sans the jacket, and I got her up on queue. It all went to shit, literally, after that.

I decided that, as she is getting over a case of nappy rash and wondering if perhaps I'm leaving her in her nappy too long, I would get her up and change her. This would be fine if she wasn't used to being changed in between her feed and NOT when she had a raging empty stomach. I know that.... now.

Foolishly, I began to change her, dry and lather up with barrier cream that red, sore bottom and even do a quick-draw McGraw change into a more comfy growsuit. She did her usual "Ooooh, my nappy's off! I'll take a whizz now!" and so the cloth nappy I put under her butt was wet before I could even do it up. But apart from that, it all went relatively smoothly.... except that part with her going purple with indignation that I wasn't taking her order to the Kitchen.

The moment over, we went out and she fed while I just thanked the cosmos for the silence and peace restored, and she made some whopping great noises while she was feeding. It wasn't until I got her up to burp her that I discovered she had managed to blow out the top of her disposable, right through the new bodysuit and growsuit she had on (we use sleeveless bodysuits with snaps at the crotch as singlets in this house).

So I realised with much angst that I had to take her, kicking and screaming if that's how she wanted to do it, back to the change table to do it all again. It went relatively smoothly... the first bit. I changed her and cleaned her up and got to the part where you do up the new nappy - a cloth one this time - when I noticed she was wet on the outside underneath. These modern cloth nappies are so good that, even when I undid it and checked the part that was touching her skin, it felt dry. I cocked my head on the side *aruh?* and then realised that, yes, she had managed to wet through another nappy in that short space of time. So. Off it came.

During this, she possitted from the other end and wet the top shoulder of her singlet suit. This also had to come off. Again. But a new nappy had to come first. While she was laying there as I grabbed another nappy, and removed the terry square nappy from under her that she'd wet too, she weed directly on the change mat. And all up the back of the fresh growsuit and singlet I'd laid under her. So out all that came. Again.

New nappy positioned and secured, I was then able to redress her. Now all this time, she was not a happy customer - the verbal equivalent of banging your knife and fork ends on the table, I'm sure. I got her arms, now getting quite rigid and not accommodating as they were the first then the second time I had to change her, through and then tried to do up the snaps at the bottom of the suit. She has outgrown it. There was a split second of flat panic from me, with my aching heart that wanted to help her (by putting her to the breast), arguing the pro's and con's of leaving it on and just being done with it. But that was until I saw that I had had to pull it down so far that she now had an alluring off-the-shoulder look happening up the top end. Damn her father's tall genes!

So the poor wee darling has gone through more costume changes than a can-can dancer on opening night. So pooped she was that she fell asleep before she finished her feed. And that was after waking from a good 3.5hrs+ snooze. I've not heard a peep. She's probably too scared to call me in, for fear I'll make her wardrobe up again.

The count stands, in one lot of awake time, at:
Nappies = 5
Bodysuits = 3
Pants = 1 (the "good" pair)
Top = 1 (the one that goes with the "good" pair of pants)
Growsuits = 2 (complete with a stain even Mr Hart What A Mess would be impressed with)

The day the dog put in the wrong teeth

Pop quizz

We've tried all of the below. Your question, should you choose to answer it, is:
How does one ensure a certain little Lolly drops off to sleep successfully during the day (as in, stays asleep for more than 15 minutes)? Is it:

A. Don't make a peep, don't touch a thing anywhere in the house for fear of creating a noise?
B. Allow a little bit of noise but only after she is well and truly zonked?
C. Same as B but with a cd of classical music on repeat in her room?
D. Dry your hair with a 150 decibel hair dryer, keep the laundry door open with the washing machine going and swap that classical cd with a good mix of repetitively-played not so quiet songs you used to listen to constantly when she was but a tadpole?

Answer will be in the next instalment.

Track wars

Curtain tracks, that is.

I love my husband. Don't get me wrong. I adore him. We fit well, we have fun, laugh loads, we're on the same wavelength, yada yada yada. Before you think I'm getting trippy on the happy hormones of motherhood, let me put some "howevers" in there.

Steve took five weeks off work to meet and greet Lolly. The first week, before she arrived, was great and we got along as good as usual. The first days in hospital were fine. We were still connecting well. By the last day in hospital, that's where my wheels started to fall off. I say mine, because his couldn't surely even be wonky....

So by the end of these past five short (but loooong) weeks, I am happy to say Steve is safely back at work. Where I can love him and miss him and really appreciate him when he comes home.

Among all the other quabbles, I was really getting so sick of the curtains open/curtains shut thing. Anyone who's ever had a brother or a boyfriend or a husband they've lived with for any length of time will know what I mean. It's that incessant penchant men have for blocking out all chance of vitamin D so they can watch *insert tv program/sport/loud movie, the more blokey the better* or play their *insert game console of choice here*

Today, it's a fresh 17 or so degrees, beautiful warm sun streaming in, a nice fresh breeze blowing through the house and the curtains, the blessed curtains, they're open! I don't CARE if there's glare on the tv. I feel so liberated.

I do miss Steve. He just needs to not be here so I can love him again.

Guess who's been experimenting with clichéd poses

I don't believe it. Even Steve's hands are photogenic.

But those little skinny legs.... the lucky girl had better hope she gets to keep those. Things I wish for my daughter #3998: that she has her daddy's metabolism.

My husband ... the alien?

Forget the cocked eyebrow... who said it wasn't noticeable that he was a forceps birth? Bwahahahaha, now that's just being downright mean.

I took this photo in '99 on our honeymoon, somewhere out the back of nowhere in the wolds of England, we were lost, it was raining hard, we were retracing our steps back to a B road after being cut off by a flood (we tried to drive through it but decided against it when we went so far into it that the brakes started smoking on the hire car) and Steve jumped out of the car in the rain to pose for this shot.

I'd say by now he's the full 4/4 cracked, by the way. He's been with me almost 14 years after all.

You had me at bottom burp

One of the many perils of the after-effects of a vaginal birth (with tearing, an episiotomy and stitches), as follows:

"Do you think we'll ever do it... like... ever again? Without it hurting?"
"Mmmm *pondering, hesitantly* Yeah..."
"When?"
*big pause, putting a sympathetic hand on my knee*
"When you can let Fluffy off the chain without crying."

Oh who am I kidding...

I need to show her off. As often as humanly possible. You'll have to bear with me for the next while, til I get this out of my system and go back to the banal shit.

So without further ado.... here's the latest photo exposé of The Girl:

Watching the music

(there's a world of spinning black, white and coloured things twirling above her head....but she finds watching the speaker where the music comes out far more interesting....)

Safety

Ohhhhwwwwww, how those cheeks just kill me. Every day.

Lovin' the Ergo Carrier

Bliss is...
hanging out with mummy under a plush blankie.

Getting there

I promise I am working on the story of Lolly's very dicey entrance into my arms.

I think I'm a little scared of going there again. I actually caught a bit of Bringing Baby Home or one of those birth shows on Discovery channel just this morning.... when the narrator said 'Tanya's epidural was wearing off and she felt *some* pain with each contraction', whilst showing *poor* Tanya crying as she awaited for the next instruction to push because she couldn't actually feel the need, I had to hold back my tears. And also the undeniable urge to put a fist through Tanya's face on the screen.

So. I have some serious things to work through apparently. I will get there though. By writing it out, I'm hoping I can start to actually overcome some of my emotions about it. I think it may actually have got in the way of my feeling anything for Lolly (Lauryn!) for the first week or two, over and above the normal factors that all new mothers face - I realise many mums don't 'feel the lurve' and have that instant bond. I don't know if I was expecting that. But I was expecting to feel more than I did. I spent most of my time in hospital literally unable to separate Lauryn from Ella. They were like one baby to me and I struggled very hard to rewire my thinking, as the last thing I ever, ever want for our new baby girl is to feel like she's being overshadowed by The Perfect Forever-Baby in our family.

More later.

Meet our new dog!

Her name is Libby (otherwise known as Liberty Taker, a.k.a. Libby for short).

She thinks that because there are new bright, colourful and plush squooshy floor blankets in the house, they are hers for the lying. So we've had to get wise to the Libby and have taken to covering everything in towels that belongs to the baby, before letting her and her friend Pepe le Pissed Off At New Baby in at night. So they're lulled into a 'business as usual' comfort zone. Which isn't happening. Because there's something.... something breathing and squawking in That Room We're Not Allowed In.

No flies on our dogs.

Or the new dog that looks straaaangely like Jazz.

It's oh so quiet....

It's all so still.

I've had a shockingly emotional week. Cried my overworked heart out for a couple of days, realised I didn't feel ready and even had apprehension about Lolly coming. But after using Steve as my outside-of-my-own-mind rationality yardstick, I'm much better. Prepared, primed and ready. Bang up for it. Actually, pacing because I can't wait to meet our little Lolly.

Here's us at 38 weeks. My God, how time has alternately flown and stood still. And I ask myself daily, despite the extreme back/hip pain giving me a shuffle that makes Cliff Young look like he was positively sprinting, how we have been so lucky to have made it this far this time. Makes my experience with Ellanor so much more special and full of meaning.


And while I'm not giving any dates away, this could be my last entry. I vowed that if my waters broke, I'd write it here if I got the time get an entry in.... before Lolly's entry was made. But as it turns out, we've served a notice of eviction on old Lazybones Lolly so next time you read, I could be a new mummy. That is, of course, unless some random bit of trivia or a funny cartoon tickles my fancy enough that I have to share it here.

The induction date is strictly a secret, but let's just say, birth is imminent. And my body is thanking me profusely for allowing the induction to go ahead (I was in two minds, but I can't go on anymore with the pain).

Steve finished work on Friday for five whole weeks. If I was physically able, I would have fallen at his feet and gripped his legs so he had to drag me as he walked, I was that pleased to see him home on Friday night. Saying "Neverrr leave again", in Homer's classic line from the Rancho Relaxo episode.

So, dear Bloggy Audience, I dread to love you and leave you. Don't leave me! I am going on a forced break.... unsure of when I'll return. Depends on Lolly I guess. Through various other channels, you will soon know when I've given birth. I'm in hospital for a week, possibly a bit over depending on whether I do have to be induced (in which case I'll be admitted to await labour coming on) or whether Lolly, in true form, decides the birth date for him/herself.

Damn! I broke a nail

This guy is just pure genius talent. Look add'im go! (stay with it, he just gets faster and wilder on that strumming bizzo)

Brilliant version of a classic song, too.

Do you reckon it'd hurt if he misplucked and got a finger caught though? *wince*

Diary of an IVF whore

23.2.05
"...Now see here, journal, I don't want to see any miscarriage stories this year in this one! So much progress towards starting IVF - it's quite amazing to find myself in this position - so close to starting after so many, many months and years of waiting and heartbreak.
I had to terminate the pregnancy we had in December '04 (two months ago). It surprised me a little how relatively easy I found it to cope with.
And so, lying in Recovery, I made the decision: we are going to start using Preimplantation Genetic Diagnosis with IVF to try and make our family now. I wish it hadn't resorted to this, but then how long do I continue to do this? To my mind and body?"

8.5.05 Mother's Day
"...Bought a bunch of flowers for myeslf yesterday. No one in the family has mentioned today to us at all. Don't know what else I was expecting.
I start sniffing Synarel tomorrow. I am soooooo excited. Really looking forward to seeing how well my body reacts."

11.5.05
"...I'm trying very hard and so far I've not mastered it properly, but I really need to concentrate on bringing in this baby's energy. We're so close now. I have to keep remembering what Steve has started saying: 'Don't look over there, or over there - just keep bringing in that baby.' I really do feel like it's just him and me this time. Funny that surrounded by practically zero family, only dr's/nurses at the IVF clinic and many strangers mostly via the net, we seem to feel really strong and focused. There's not much doubt, certainly not as much as when we were trying to conceive naturally."

24.5.05
"...Did my first injection last night. Weirrrrrrd!! But now I've done it once, I am sure I will be able to do them quite easily. It's funny, I'm not resentful or 'hating' this process or the drugs at all - it's a bit scary, yes, but it still feels like we're heading in a positive direction.
You are so longed for, little one! We want you here with us and would go to any length to get you here safely. I'm feeling very positive about the outcome of all this. I don't think we will be too disappointed. I fear saying that, in case something goes wrong and it all ends in a miscarriage again, or no pregnancy at all.... but I really don't think that will result.
No, I know this baby will be strong and fit and healthy. We are waiting for you. We are ready to catch you. Please don't hesitate."

27.5.05
"...I can't believe it's only a week from today until Egg Pick Up! These years of yearning and trying to conceive our family have been so long and at times painful, lonely, boring, difficult and filled with immense sorrow. That it could all be about to end is a bit incomprehensible. I mean, I was also sure that Ella was "the one", I could never have guessed it would all end up the way it has. So it's very hard to not have reservations. I'm having to let go an 'identity' of sorts.
I wasn't sure before, but now I've seen: You are NOT my mission or purpose in life, little one. Although I am more than willing to have you become part of our lives. xx"

31.5.05
"...Ok, whoa. Trying very, very hard to stay positive today. It's so very difficult to keep focused on you, my little one. You haven't made yourself known to me just yet. I have to keep trusting this process.
This morning I went for my first ultrasound to check how many follicles have been produced. There were 14. I know my eggies are good! It only takes on. One special little one. Come on! We'll always be here in the meantime, but hurry up already, will ya!"

5.6.05
"...Optimism being smashed to pieces here! 6 eggs retrieved from those 14 follicles. Only three have fertilised. We now have to wait all day today and right through tomorrow (biopsy day) to find out many have survived.
The chances of of one of those three being both normal AND living for 5 days and growing all the while is just so slim.
I can't bear it. By far, this is the worst, the most cruel wait I've ever encountered during our years trying to conceive.
To top everything off, that girl has completely done her top over something I vented publicly abouty her behaviour towards me (particularly at Ella's birthday "celebration" where they arrived with their child and didn't even come over to say hi). That and other things she's said or gestures she's made that I find totally inappropriate and insensitive.
I was asked by Steve not to confront her - I see now it's not for me to do that in an attempt to alter her behaviour and frankly, from her reaction, I doubt she would have cared about me if I'd put my heart on my sleeve and gone straight to her anyway, which would have crushed me even more - But I needed to get it out somehow. I was also unsure (as I am about just so many things) if what I was feeling was justified, that maybe I had it all wrong about her.
So I wrote it out, posted it and received pages of sympathetic feedback. I was able to put it all behind me after that acknowledgement/validation. Well, through her own snooping (which she has cleverly skirted), she has come across the post with all the comments now, 6 months later.
Great timing!
And once again, I am left doubting if I have this right in my head - this, however, is denying my feelings. She is simply livid at being called on her two-facedness. If she would just stop going around acting like a perfect saviour and generous person, and stop talking about the same people she's so "generous" towards behind their backs, perhaps she wouldn't be so confused about why I feel like this."

7.6.05
"...Well my goodness. One (at least) of those 3 little embies is normal. Not only normal but going strong.
This morning, when I woke up, I was just filled with dread waiting for "the call". Overnight, I had to get up at least 8 times with excruciating stomach cramps and rather violent trips to the toilet. I've lost 2kg in about 2 days, as this started on Sunday. I believe this is all manifesting from sheer terror. I wanted to feel so fit and healthy to welcome this emby aboard! But I feel quite wretched right now."

8.6.05
"...You're in, little fella! It still may all end in tears (have a blood test on 20/6) but I hope with everything i have in me that it will end in tears of happiness sometime in the first months of 2006. I feel so calm and peaceful, it feels quite surreal compared to the past five days of raw nerves."

22.6.05
"...Well, miracle emby did not stay. I started bleeding on Friday morning, unbelievable pain that went away after I passed a rather sizable clot. Lovely!
Spent the weekend recovering, accepting, gathering strength again. Steve seems to have taken it quite well, no tears from him and buckets from me.
I'm fine now though. Whatever 'fine' is...
We're not quite back at square one and that's a good feeling."

15.8.05
"...I'm currently well on my way through our second PGD cycle. This time, hardly anyone knows and those who do are in the dark about dates, timing, etc.
Interesting to observe that up until this past weekend, Ella was very prominent in my thoughts for over a week or two. I brought it up with Steve last Wednesday night and he said that, yes, he too had been thinking of her much more recently.
We revisited that yesterday and noted that our thoughts of our girl had died down again. Funny thing is - and I haven't really shared this because a) I'm still a tad unsure of whether my mind is playing tricks and getting in the way and b) I wouldn't know how to explain it out loud and still sound convincing - but anyway, I think I have vaguely sensed Ellanor again. There is a very, very slight sense of her around me. I'm unsure about it. I want desperately for it to be a 'sign'... yet I don't want it to be my conscious making stuff up."

24.8.05
"...Trying desperately not to be despondent about today's ultrasound results. Once again, I'm caught up in dates, numbers, measurements, instead of sitting back and trusting."

28.8.05
"...And here I am again, waiting for Egg Pick Up tomorrow. I'm neither excited nor anxious, happy or sad. I feel completely exhausted and somewhat defeated already, to be perfectly honest. Part of my tiredness comes from the drugs, yes... but mostly I really do just feel so exhausted about my 'existence'. That we came so close last ycle but didn't get pregnant, that people around me either continue to fall pregnant easily or have their precious next pregnancy again after miscarrying or losing their own baby.
There is a real sense that so many are moving on (although of course I realise many aren't) and I feel left behind. I surprise myself that I am genuinely ecstatic for so many of the girls I am on this journey with (on EB), when they fall pregnant after their own perseverence. And I am equally distraught if any of them miscarry (which happens all too often).
But I seriously rue my role becoming one of inactive supporter - I wouldn't be so gracious if my own chances got to the point of being futile.

6.9.05
"...Well, it worked. It's happened and I am sitting here again waiting for next week's blood test to confirm whether the embryo transferred last Friday has implanted. Oh, will you grace us with your presence this time, I wonder!?
I have pregnancy symptoms already - bloated, on-off nausea, tender breasts, discomfort around waistline - all caused solely by the Crinone gel which does a bloody good job of mimicking a pregnancy.
So much of my married/adult life has been taken up with shit like this! I say to myself and others, so often, "I'm so SICK of wanting a baby who won't come", "I'm giving up", "I'm not doing THIS anymore"... And here I still am. Writing the same goddamn thoughts and hopes every time I put pen to paper in here. SHITS ME!!!!!"

20.10.05 (first day of period in the cycle Lolly was conceived)
"...It wasn't just the Crinone gel. I did get pregnant with that last little miracle. We knew and were elated for approximately two days before the bleeding started. I'm uplifted and relieved that we have definitely closed the IVF option door.
We always agreed on only trying 3 times but we feel, after achieving our aim (to "get pregnant") on our second attempt and having it end in miscarriage anyway after all that effort to ensure it's a healthy emby, that we have tried this and know that perhaps one day if we kept trying, it would work.
But we're not prepared to keep endlessly trying with PGD/IVF. If anything, that kind of seems more hopeless to me."

12.12.05
"...Who thought we'd get another pregnancy in before the end of the year? I am roughly 6 weeks pregnant and holding out hope that it's a keeper, conceived naturally. Hanging out very anxiously, whilst getting very tired and sick, until next scan next week. God, here's hoping we have another healthy miracle in there."

19.4.06
"...Well, we sure DO have a healthy, naturally conceived absolute miracle on our hands here! "Lolly" is currently barrelling towards his/her July 28th due date. I love you already.
I hope you can trust me and go easy on me! You, your dad and me... we'll be the tightest team. I admire you already for this mammoth task you've taken on. I mean, I know we will see you right and love and nurture you so well - but coming in as you have done, after losing our first daughter, and all these other miscarriages... well I think it's a big task to take on. But I'm so glad it was YOU who chose it.
I can already kind of get the feeling of you. You're much like your direct and unflappable Dad. Not at all 'fragile' or delicate - like I felt with Ella. She herself was strong, but I always had a rather 'fragile' feeling when pregnant with her. Not with you, though! I do believe you're as strong as an ox and having a ball already. You bring us joy."

13.6.06
"...Little Lolly, I was so scared today. Had a yucky dream that stayed with me. Luckily I had an appointment with (Dr Luffley) and I got to see you again on the screen.
Your whole face filled the monitor and you sucked your thumb, then rubbed your eyes. I could hardly believe what I was seeing!
We are ready for you!
I look forward to meeting you every day now. We love you so much already and cannot wait to include you in our daily lives.
I watched your Dad as he slept the other morning and cried silently. With joy, with a bit of melancholy, with the knowledge that you and I are about to make him so happy. I want to watch him be a dad. It was cut so short with Ella. And I look forward as much to seeing you as I do to seeing him hold you and kiss you, bath you and dress you and whisper to you as you sleep.
Come safely, lovely one."

A memory like a smack in the kisser

Look at this photo I just came across. Steve took this about two months after Ella died. I distinctly remember he was trying to get me to smile. I honestly thought I was.....

If you were ever wondering, this is the watery eyed, weary smile you get if you're a lost mummy.

Gennice the Understudy

This is now officially me.

For Seinfeld fans, The Understudy is the episode where Jerry's latest girlfriend Gennice is Bette Midler's understudy in Rochelle Rochelle (one girl's erotic journey from Milan to Minsk...). And Gennice has a habit of crying over the littlest things. She drops her hot dog and sobs. Her shoelace breaks and she cries. But her grandmother dies... and she doesn't cry.

So why is that I can watch a soppy movie dry-eyed at the moment, but I nearly (note, nearly is all) dropped my juice on the floor last night and it made me cry? The very thought of what might have happened if I'd spilled a drink reduces me to a mess.

Which way to the padded room please?

A lazy arvo muse

Me: Imagine being a pregnant elephant. And gestating for 18 months. WITH AN ELEPHANT.
S: *daring to speak* Imagine if you were pregnant for 18 months. ......With an elephant.

*****big pause*****

Me: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

And the bell tolled

I'm so heavy. I lost my ability to reach out for things two days ago. I am now officially "over it" and I never thought I'd get to this point. Silly me assumed I'd just sail on into labour, grateful as all get-out.

But no. It would appear I am only human after all.

How do I know this? I cried this morning when I dropped the soap in the shower. I cried because it meant I'd have to bend over and pick it up. Why did I cry? Because I felt sorry for myself. And because I couldn't believe how hard it is to pick up a freaking bar of soap.

Kill me.

Lolly and Me.... the Month-By-Month Retrospective

14 weeks - and to think I thought I looked pretty big already....


19 weeks - feelin' fine and .... looking anaemic??

22 weeks - the most flattering angle,
before I started taking on fluid like The Titanic


24 weeks - ahhhh, when I started to fall in lurve
(and still looking a tad on the iron-deficient side)


28 weeks, the night of our 7th wedding anniversary
and my drooling over seeing Adam Hills live


32 weeks - *whispering* she sees little people


36 weeks - no commenting on the spotty mirror, okay?
I can't reach it to clean it.

A-HA! So they ARE friends

Everyone needs something warm to cosy up to.

I prefer mine to shed less hair, but hey. Sometimes you can't be fussy.