Well, what an eventful day it has been so far.
This morning i got to have an ultrasound. I have had three so far which seems excessive really but without going into too much detail, i have had some....issues......with this pregnancy which may have been because of my heart shaped uterus, could have been caused by excessive exercise (who, me? what?) but is most likely Just One Of Those Things. I had four blood tests in a week which was wonderful as you can imagine. Especially the one performed by a trainee nurse with a lip ring. I mean, I am all for the learning process but if i wanted to be stabbed repeatedly with a needle by some emo kid, i would never have resigned from the crisis centre.
Ultrasounds are amazing! As my friend said "you get to meet your baby before they drive you insane." My baby is "very active" which dad says is pay back (yep, he was in the room as a woman inserted an internal ultrasound thingy. Difficult to maintain sensible conversation whilst that is happening.) and everything looked fine. By "fine" I'm sure she meant that the baby looked like the cutest, smartest, funniest, kindest thing she had ever seen.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Grown up
I feel so old lately. This is why:
1. I'm having a baby. Wow.
2. I don't get Justin Bieber. AT ALL.
3. Instead of thinking Lara Bingle is a silly little girl, i am actually really concerned about her. I really hope she has good friends and someone, be it a manager or parent, who is actually looking out for her. Give the kid a break.
That is all.
1. I'm having a baby. Wow.
2. I don't get Justin Bieber. AT ALL.
3. Instead of thinking Lara Bingle is a silly little girl, i am actually really concerned about her. I really hope she has good friends and someone, be it a manager or parent, who is actually looking out for her. Give the kid a break.
That is all.
Monday, May 9, 2011
The blog post i almost didn't hit "publish" on.
Blogging is weird right?
Of course it is. It's like an open diary just waiting to be read. Blogs are sometimes really boring. Sometimes they are entertaining. Sometimes touching and sometimes, well sometimes they belong to your ex boyfriend and can be both fascinating and nauseating.
I suppose the question of who i write for has been raised a few times since i started this blog. The conundrum about anonymity. I kinda always figured that i would be 100% honest but then never say who i really am. But then of course, i have friends who read this blog, I know my mum checks it and I follow my sisters blog which is sometimes linked to her facebook account. So i suppose, people who i know, or even just kinda know, may know me a whole lot better than i realise. Friends of friends, workmates, even my ex in laws are all potential readers. So how honest should i be? How much truth should really find its way onto this blog? How open should my book be?
These are all questions i have been grappling with lately because of something i wrote last week but didn't publish. The problem is, i cannot keep blogging until i blog about this because this particular piece of truth is impacting on everything i think, feel, notice or create lately. God, I've made it sound bad haven't I? Just keep reading :)
So without further ado, i give you The Unpublished Post:
When she died, i never thought i would feel happiness again.
Time literally ground to a halt and i was so present, so aware of the situation i had found myself in, that I could not see the forest for the trees. Fuck, i didn't even know i was in a forest. It hurt so much and i was so blind sided that i didn't know how i would recover.
I was young. Too young to be married and too young to be touching that sort of grief. Of course people go through worse everyday, every second. Just watch the news or Oprah or actually listen to peoples stories and you'd know that trauma bites into people's lives all the time.
But this was my nightmare. My little piece of personal hell. Our wedding anniversary, a suicide note, a husband who would never recover from the shock. This was my story and for a little while there, i wondered how i could come out of it intact.
Well, now i know.
You just keep going. It's as simple as that. I never could envision that my future would look like this. I could not ever imagine that I would fall in love again. I remember crying to my sister on the phone saying that i was broken, that i was changed, that my heart was no longer capable of love. She told me i was wrong. Promised me, in fact that I was mistaken. Of course she was right. But at the time? God. At the time I was a fucking wreck. I always thought that you were my lighthouse but now i see that you are the rocks i wreck myself against.
And then i met Welsh and the whole world changed again. Where there was grief, there was joy. Where there was darkness, suddenly, there was light. My silver lining. My second chance. Loving him didn't save me. Being able to love him showed me that i had already saved myself. After a year and a half of feeling numb at best, suddenly I was alive again. We fell in love. And i was so surprised, so astounded that I had met him that i forgot to keep looking backwards. Forgot to be careful. Forgot that i was someones ex wife and started being someones girlfriend instead. Girlfriend! Even now, that word seems so girlish. So innocent and sweet. Instead of feeling like a constellation prize after a failed married, I had the feeling that i had dodged a very dangerous bullet. That i had almost missed the chance of meeting the love of my life.
And i get it now. I understand what it was all for. Life really does go on. Time really does heal. Life really is what you make it. You want to know how i know all this stuff? It dawned on me on my third day in Wales:
We are seated in a darkened room. Well, Welsh is seated, i am half reclining on a bench like apparatus. We are clasping hands. It's no understatement to say that i am absolutely shitting myself. We are staring at a screen and i am questioning my relationship with God. If i don't believe in him, why do i keep saying his name in my head? Soft, warping circles move across the TV, like a lava lamp, and all at once i see a tiny little vibration of static. "See that there?" the sonographer asks in her thick, curly, sing-song accent "that there is the heart beat."
And just like that, it is all worth it. The grief, the pain, the loss, the fear. The sleepless nights, the agony, the tears and the terror. Because this is all that matters. This is all that has ever mattered, i just didn't know it. I would walk through a thousand lifetimes of the last few years, just to find myself standing in this exact spot. I look at Welsh and he looks at me and suddenly, we are three.
Welsh is grinning and I am bawling and they hand us a little print out which we clip to the dashboard of the car. The sun is out as we leave the hospital parking lot. It's unseasonable warm for this time of year in Wales. Maybe we will call the baby Sunny or Summer. Maybe we will choose a family name like Nelly or Gwen. Maybe it will be every name of every person who ever led me to Welsh in the first place.
Or maybe, we will just call her Hope.
And what the hell, while we are at it, I may as well completely blow my cover. Here's a photo taken a few days after we found out i was pregnant.
Of course it is. It's like an open diary just waiting to be read. Blogs are sometimes really boring. Sometimes they are entertaining. Sometimes touching and sometimes, well sometimes they belong to your ex boyfriend and can be both fascinating and nauseating.
I suppose the question of who i write for has been raised a few times since i started this blog. The conundrum about anonymity. I kinda always figured that i would be 100% honest but then never say who i really am. But then of course, i have friends who read this blog, I know my mum checks it and I follow my sisters blog which is sometimes linked to her facebook account. So i suppose, people who i know, or even just kinda know, may know me a whole lot better than i realise. Friends of friends, workmates, even my ex in laws are all potential readers. So how honest should i be? How much truth should really find its way onto this blog? How open should my book be?
These are all questions i have been grappling with lately because of something i wrote last week but didn't publish. The problem is, i cannot keep blogging until i blog about this because this particular piece of truth is impacting on everything i think, feel, notice or create lately. God, I've made it sound bad haven't I? Just keep reading :)
So without further ado, i give you The Unpublished Post:
When she died, i never thought i would feel happiness again.
Time literally ground to a halt and i was so present, so aware of the situation i had found myself in, that I could not see the forest for the trees. Fuck, i didn't even know i was in a forest. It hurt so much and i was so blind sided that i didn't know how i would recover.
I was young. Too young to be married and too young to be touching that sort of grief. Of course people go through worse everyday, every second. Just watch the news or Oprah or actually listen to peoples stories and you'd know that trauma bites into people's lives all the time.
But this was my nightmare. My little piece of personal hell. Our wedding anniversary, a suicide note, a husband who would never recover from the shock. This was my story and for a little while there, i wondered how i could come out of it intact.
Well, now i know.
You just keep going. It's as simple as that. I never could envision that my future would look like this. I could not ever imagine that I would fall in love again. I remember crying to my sister on the phone saying that i was broken, that i was changed, that my heart was no longer capable of love. She told me i was wrong. Promised me, in fact that I was mistaken. Of course she was right. But at the time? God. At the time I was a fucking wreck. I always thought that you were my lighthouse but now i see that you are the rocks i wreck myself against.
And then i met Welsh and the whole world changed again. Where there was grief, there was joy. Where there was darkness, suddenly, there was light. My silver lining. My second chance. Loving him didn't save me. Being able to love him showed me that i had already saved myself. After a year and a half of feeling numb at best, suddenly I was alive again. We fell in love. And i was so surprised, so astounded that I had met him that i forgot to keep looking backwards. Forgot to be careful. Forgot that i was someones ex wife and started being someones girlfriend instead. Girlfriend! Even now, that word seems so girlish. So innocent and sweet. Instead of feeling like a constellation prize after a failed married, I had the feeling that i had dodged a very dangerous bullet. That i had almost missed the chance of meeting the love of my life.
And i get it now. I understand what it was all for. Life really does go on. Time really does heal. Life really is what you make it. You want to know how i know all this stuff? It dawned on me on my third day in Wales:
We are seated in a darkened room. Well, Welsh is seated, i am half reclining on a bench like apparatus. We are clasping hands. It's no understatement to say that i am absolutely shitting myself. We are staring at a screen and i am questioning my relationship with God. If i don't believe in him, why do i keep saying his name in my head? Soft, warping circles move across the TV, like a lava lamp, and all at once i see a tiny little vibration of static. "See that there?" the sonographer asks in her thick, curly, sing-song accent "that there is the heart beat."
And just like that, it is all worth it. The grief, the pain, the loss, the fear. The sleepless nights, the agony, the tears and the terror. Because this is all that matters. This is all that has ever mattered, i just didn't know it. I would walk through a thousand lifetimes of the last few years, just to find myself standing in this exact spot. I look at Welsh and he looks at me and suddenly, we are three.
Welsh is grinning and I am bawling and they hand us a little print out which we clip to the dashboard of the car. The sun is out as we leave the hospital parking lot. It's unseasonable warm for this time of year in Wales. Maybe we will call the baby Sunny or Summer. Maybe we will choose a family name like Nelly or Gwen. Maybe it will be every name of every person who ever led me to Welsh in the first place.
Or maybe, we will just call her Hope.
And what the hell, while we are at it, I may as well completely blow my cover. Here's a photo taken a few days after we found out i was pregnant.
11.
11 has always been my lucky number. Well not always, but for a couple of years.
Before that, it was 5. When i was a kid, my lucky number would change with my age and when i turned 5, my sisters informed me that i couldn't just change it because i had, had a birthday. Showing the already determined (stubborn, defiant, annoying) streak in my personality, I claimed that being five had nothing to do with my lucky number of choice and boy oh boy did i show them the day i turned six. I stuck to my guns until my 25th birthday when finally I realised that 11 actually was my lucky number. And that you cannot just choose a number, it chooses you. And also that claiming my favourite colour was peach just to be different from the pink my sister clearly had a preference for, fooled noone. (My other sister was even more of a rebel, painting her bedroom BLUE! The scandal!)
Anyway, I digress. Since i started noticing that 11 followed me around, it has always served me well. And guess what? The year is 2011. Which mean that this year (and i say this every year) is going to be the Best Year Ever.
Before that, it was 5. When i was a kid, my lucky number would change with my age and when i turned 5, my sisters informed me that i couldn't just change it because i had, had a birthday. Showing the already determined (stubborn, defiant, annoying) streak in my personality, I claimed that being five had nothing to do with my lucky number of choice and boy oh boy did i show them the day i turned six. I stuck to my guns until my 25th birthday when finally I realised that 11 actually was my lucky number. And that you cannot just choose a number, it chooses you. And also that claiming my favourite colour was peach just to be different from the pink my sister clearly had a preference for, fooled noone. (My other sister was even more of a rebel, painting her bedroom BLUE! The scandal!)
Anyway, I digress. Since i started noticing that 11 followed me around, it has always served me well. And guess what? The year is 2011. Which mean that this year (and i say this every year) is going to be the Best Year Ever.
Friday, May 6, 2011
The real price of moving to another country:
Visa application: $315
Taking a morning off to lodge it: $100
Sending the stupid thing registered, express post: $26
Train ticket to the city: $3.70
Being one step close to being in the same village as my boyfriend: Pretty effing good.
Taking a morning off to lodge it: $100
Sending the stupid thing registered, express post: $26
Train ticket to the city: $3.70
Being one step close to being in the same village as my boyfriend: Pretty effing good.
Monday, May 2, 2011
The Ultimate, Final, To Do List (for the next month.)
hi y'all.
I feel like i have so much to do before i can leave for Wales. So many expensive, complicated things.
Get a visa
Get a divorce (this i my fault, i have all the forms but not the $550)
Put the rest of my stuff in storage
See everyone
Work fulltime
Walk the dog every day (this is free.)
Buy a plane ticket.
and a million other things.
Do some washing.
Buy some gumboots.
good? good.
I feel like i have so much to do before i can leave for Wales. So many expensive, complicated things.
Get a visa
Get a divorce (this i my fault, i have all the forms but not the $550)
Put the rest of my stuff in storage
See everyone
Work fulltime
Walk the dog every day (this is free.)
Buy a plane ticket.
and a million other things.
Do some washing.
Buy some gumboots.
good? good.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Jetlag
It's 4am and i have been fighting sleeplessness since midnight. Time to give up the battle and blog!
Gosh, It's been a long time friends hasn't it? I've been away, eating croissants, shoving more art into my head than i could handle and spending a giddy week with Welsh in his mother land.
Paris was amazing. I am sure i am the first person to ever think that. Between the Louvre and designer second hand stores, the beautiful people and the city scape at night, macaroons and Mon Cherie, i well and truly fell in love with France.
It is just so visually stunning. I cannot work out if the people are so beautiful because they are around beautiful things all their lives, or if they surrounded themselves in beauty to reflect themselves. What came first? The Chic or the Eiffel? Either way, the man made magnificence of the place is truly one of a kind. Get thee to France!!
I met Mona and Venus, saw a handful of Matisses and Picassos, drank champagne with breakfast in the countryside and coveted every single outfit worn by every single french woman i saw.
Wales is the opposite. It is dominated by broad brush stokes of natural beauty. The landscape is so rugged, so obvious, so 360 degrees of impossible greens. In the distance you watch rolling hills and light dancing on the water then you look down at wild violets and baby lambs by your feet.
And of course, Wales in where Welsh comes from. It was mind blowing to see him there and this synergy, this snowball of falling in love with Wales and falling more in love with Welsh, and loving Wales because of Welsh and Welsh because of Wales, swept me though a week of sleeping in, country walks, endless cups of tea and meeting the entire population of his village. His family is gorgeous. His friends generous and kind. Our house is millions of years old with creaky floorboards and a stream on just the other side of the fence.
I have two homes now and i am itching to get back there and take my finger off the pause button of our lives together.
Melbourne is also great and I am happy to have six weeks of coffee with my friends, hugs with my niece and nephew, goodbye dinners with my family and hundreds of conversations and moments that I will file away in my heart for the year to come.
goodnight. xxx
Gosh, It's been a long time friends hasn't it? I've been away, eating croissants, shoving more art into my head than i could handle and spending a giddy week with Welsh in his mother land.
Paris was amazing. I am sure i am the first person to ever think that. Between the Louvre and designer second hand stores, the beautiful people and the city scape at night, macaroons and Mon Cherie, i well and truly fell in love with France.
It is just so visually stunning. I cannot work out if the people are so beautiful because they are around beautiful things all their lives, or if they surrounded themselves in beauty to reflect themselves. What came first? The Chic or the Eiffel? Either way, the man made magnificence of the place is truly one of a kind. Get thee to France!!
I met Mona and Venus, saw a handful of Matisses and Picassos, drank champagne with breakfast in the countryside and coveted every single outfit worn by every single french woman i saw.
Wales is the opposite. It is dominated by broad brush stokes of natural beauty. The landscape is so rugged, so obvious, so 360 degrees of impossible greens. In the distance you watch rolling hills and light dancing on the water then you look down at wild violets and baby lambs by your feet.
And of course, Wales in where Welsh comes from. It was mind blowing to see him there and this synergy, this snowball of falling in love with Wales and falling more in love with Welsh, and loving Wales because of Welsh and Welsh because of Wales, swept me though a week of sleeping in, country walks, endless cups of tea and meeting the entire population of his village. His family is gorgeous. His friends generous and kind. Our house is millions of years old with creaky floorboards and a stream on just the other side of the fence.
I have two homes now and i am itching to get back there and take my finger off the pause button of our lives together.
Melbourne is also great and I am happy to have six weeks of coffee with my friends, hugs with my niece and nephew, goodbye dinners with my family and hundreds of conversations and moments that I will file away in my heart for the year to come.
goodnight. xxx
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
