So much to say, so little to say. I want to write, I don’t want to write. Life has snowballed since the South African trip, with Christmas, New Year, playing catch-up in the house and garden after a reasonable absence. And my life is once again filling up.
I’m back at my exercise program, and feeling happy about it, though rather sore. I’m taking a hard line approach to my eating choices, with a view to being the fittest and healthiest I can be, come DE IVF (whenever that turns out to be). I’m meditating most mornings, doing yoga twice a week, fitball once, and I’m about to begin weight training twice a week, at least for the next month or two. I feel much better than I did a month ago, and as always, wished I’d started sooner, or perhaps just never picked up a chocolate box…
Weekly counselling is going really well, and I am ever grateful for it. Still going deeper and learning more. This weeks’ breakthrough was about discovering my internal critic had originally been set up as a self-protection mechanism, while still a young child, but now as an adult it is outmoded and causing me much more harm than good. Time to find a gentle way to let it go.
Come February I will enrol in another unit of painting, and my weekly bridge lessons will begin again. I’m still spending a few hours a week on my Grandfather’s memoir transcription, but with my little brother helping this time, we should knock it over pretty quickly. Hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles is the spectre of my dip ed prac. I’ve re-enrolled for September, but am thinking I’d like to do it before then. If I can motivate myself to open the two volume tome I have to read and write a paper on, then at least that can be out of the way before I begin. Whenever that is.
March the 4th is our final DE counselling session, and with any luck DE and I will both have been on the pill for a month by then, and in sync and ready to start. But no guarantees. I picked up our prescriptions this week, and now we are both just waiting for AF. Of course, I don’t want to do a prac right around transfer time (maybe April?). Nor do I want to do it around my 40th birthday time, the first week of May (in case I want to organise myself a party, which at this stage I have no stamina for) or the last three weeks in May because DH has booked them off work and I kind of hoped we could go to Europe then (if I wasn’t still doing a cycle). And I wanted to do a 10 day meditation retreat in September. And then October is always hugely busy in the garden, and the beginning of ‘visitor season’. So I’m left with the months of June, July and August, and it will take 2 of those months to do. You can see I’m so keen, can’t you?
As for the DE cycle, I have decided to go with a fresh transfer into my uterus, and not do a egg pick up cycle at the same time. The nurse said she thought it might not be legal, and was definitely too hard, and they didn’t do that sort of thing, so I scrapped the idea. Next week I’ll get blood tests for my thyroid panel and see how the medication is doing. If it isn’t helping, I may well just drop the idea of transfer and freeze whatever we have, in the hope that the elusive surrogate pops into our life. If we go the frozen route, my body won’t need to be involved at all, and thus I could do a prac, or go to Europe or even do the April meditation course. So, same ol’ same ol’ on the not-being-able-to-organise-when-the-hell-I’m-doing-what-I’m-doing-this-year front.
Meanwhile, back in the here and now, I have taken up sewing, on a shiny new Pfaff. I haven’t sewed, really, since I did it at school for two years, and have a lot to learn. Especially my way around a computerised machine. DH wants a set of curtains for our bedroom, so that will be my first project, and I hope to get it done by the end of next week. He has just completed the bench for the potting shed, and is working on the construction of shade sails for our sun-drenched north facing verandah, so we don’t melt in March.
Tomorrow I have the making of seville orange marmalade planned, along with mulberry jam (picked the berries this afternoon). Sunday I am going to stay overnight at a friend’s in Bunbury, who has air-conditioning and a pool, which is exactly where I want to be in the 40 degree heat. I’ll get a big whack of shopping done on Monday, in the big smoke, then head home, unpack, and re-pack, and head down to Denmark to spend two days with a friend who is in her final week of staying at her holiday house. I plan on taking the Pfaff, curtain material, and accoutrements, and sneakily getting her help. Back Thursday night, unpack. Friday morning clean DE’s house, go to pump class, have my shiatsu session then at 6pm head out to a local organic winery opening with a movie and jazz band.
The following week I have to start tracking down someone to render the outside of the building I manage, as native bees have begun to bore holes in the old mud mortar, creating a bit of a disaster zone. Sadly, a chap is coming to spray them on Saturday. I guess I could smoke them out, and I do feel bad about poisoning them, but they have to go, and spraying is the quick easy way. This week I chucked out a tenant (not with any animosity, just that his room was no longer available someone with a bigger priority wanted to use it) and he called to have a bit of a moan at me this afternoon. So it’s already been a big start to 2010 on both the work and home fronts.
As you can see, not much has changed as far as trying to do less. But at least I’m not feeling frantic about it. Much. And if I do feel frantic, that’s ok. I’ll just be aware that I’m feeling frantic, and not judge myself over it, and then see if I’d prefer to do something differently, and if I happen to change my mind about ANY of the events I’m planning, then that’s fine too.
And now it is time for pan fried Barramundi, with steamed fresh corn on the cob, broccoli and the last of the broad beans. Excuse me while I attend to the evening meal, and then watch House Season 5 while I consume it.
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