Adopting a new attitude.

Adopting a new attitude.

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I was out for dinner and drinks (a lot of drinks) on Saturday night with the husband, and his aunt and uncle. They’re both in their forties  and are going through the adoption process at the minute.

They tried for a long time to have children of their own.. I think they had two or three failed IVF attempts and they mutually agreed to stop because the Clomid wasn’t doing my aunt any favours. I don’t know every detail because they don’t really discuss it a lot but I know they’ve had to deal with miscarriage too.

I was always unsure about adoption. Not that I don’t think it’s it’s wonderful thing to do.. but I just wasn’t sure it was for me. Now though,  I can see myself warming to the idea. Don’t get me wrong.. I want to continue trying naturally for a few more years,  but if it came to it.. and it wasn’t happening for us – it’s something I would definitely consider.

I don’t know if the process is different in America, but here they’ve been able to pick their age group of “0-4”. They’ve been scrutinised for a long time – their jobs, their home, their relationship with each other and with other family members.. its been a long draining process for them I think.

Their final step is to go to a panel, then if they’re approved by them.. it’ll just be a waiting game. Once a child is best matched for them, they’ll be able to bring them home.
(Fostering to begin with, then eventually adoption).

My husband said how amazing it is that in a few months time there could be a new addition to our family.. a child out there somewhere that has no idea his or her life will change for the better. They’ll be with parents that will love them so much, and welcomed in to a family that knows how important they are. It really is a beautiful thing.

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The FWW

The FWW

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I’ve just arrived at my ‘TWW’ (two week wait) and I’m reminded about how much I bloody hate it. 

Women who are actively trying for a baby know how frustrating the TWW can be.. it just seems to go on and on…and on and on.. and on. 

But – and I’m sure I’m not alone in this – its nothing compared to the FWW (four week wait). I’ve realised that the minute I get those cramps, or when I pee and there’s a hint of red on the paper; when my period annoyingly arrives – I’ve began my countdown. 

Ok, so I’m still not pregnant… now what? 

Countdown to Aunt Flo’ pissing off, taking with her the constant reminder of the fact I’m not pregnant. 

Countdown to ovulation week which everyone tells us is supposed to be the fun part (listen, of course I have fun during the stuff,  but there’s still all this underlying pressure about if we’re doing it at the right time and if we’re doing it enough, and if we should be doing it upside down or back to front or inside out – wait, I’ve went off course I think). 

Countdown to the week your period is due. Trying to read signs. Am I cramping? Am I emotional? How’s my skin looking? Am I craving chocolate  (Hell, I’m ALWAYS craving chocolate) 

My period should be here now. I’m late. Good. Or is it? I’m not always regular. I’m getting my hopes up. I’m now 2 days late. Am I pregnant? 3 days late. Nope. Is that a spot? Crap, I’m cramping. I’m spotting. Great, here she bloody is!!! (excuse the pun) 

And, again.. The countdown starts. 

Repost – 12 weeks

Repost – 12 weeks

I still have such vivid memories of the day that it terrifies me. Sometimes it’s all my mind will allow me to think about. The thoughts crop up every so often, and they’re almost always without warning. I could be watching the television, reading a book or even relaxing in a nice hot bubble bath then suddenly there it is – right at the forefront of my mind. It can feel like I’m watching a film, only I can’t stop it, can’t pause it and can never ever find the eject button.

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365 days later

365 days later

Exactly one year ago today, I was on honeymoon in Cuba lying in a strange medical centre having a miscarriage. 

Today, I’m in work – not with a child – but with yet another miscarriage behind me. 

I still sometimes can’t believe it’s been a whole year. A year and not a single day has passed where I haven’t thought about it, if even briefly. 

They say time’s a healer right? Well I say that’s bullshit. 365 days later and I still hurt. 

 

 

Pandoras Box

Pandoras Box

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There’s a box in my living room that I refer to as my ‘Pandora’s Box’.  

It’s actually a vintage suitcase that we had our guests drop their cards in to at the wedding. 

We still have it on display in our living room, only now it serves as a holder for said cards, the guestbook, my garter, a copy of the invitations, our vows, my hairband/tiara thing and some other little memories. 

As a wedding gift, I bought my husband a pocket watch he’d been eyeing up in the kilt shop and had it engraved for him. I also got a little notepad as a private gift between us that contains; well, notes. That’s kind of a given. 

I wrote things like ’10 reasons why I love you’, Where I see us in 10 years’, ‘My favourite memory together’ and other equally as cute and sickeningly romantic notes. 

This tiny seemingly innocent 4″ x 4″ notepad is the sole reason why I don’t look in the box anymore. That was, until today. 

I had to put something inside it today and I just couldn’t stop myself from looking at the notepad. I knew what I was getting myself in to. I mean, I really knew. But still – I read it. I started to cry. I tried in vain to stop, but the tears kept coming.  

There were notes about how my husband was such a good father and how he was going to be a brilliant one again to our little one. Notes about how we had everything we ever wanted, and life was pretty much perfect. We used to call the baby lentil (I know I’m not the only one that does this), so there was a mention of how I love that he would do anything for me, Kian and lentil.  Just seeing that word broke my heart. I broke down again. 

Next week will be 1 year since we lost our little one and I truthfully can’t ever see myself being completely okay. I’ll always have the ‘should’ve been’ dates in my mind. I’ll always wonder why it had to happen to us. We miss you so much Lentil. Why did you have to leave us? 

Coming Home

Coming Home

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I arrived home yesterday from my anniversary trip to Paris. 1 year married, how did that happen? 

I’m still not pregnant  – I know this because I got my period 3 days early while we were away. I’m gutted, BUT – and this is huge for me – I didn’t cry!  It’s the first month that I haven’t cried so it’s a mini victory I guess. I’ll take ’em where I can get ’em at this point. 

Paris was nice. You might have been expecting more, but you won’t get it from me. ‘Nice’ is what I’m sticking with. 

Disneyland was bloody brilliant. The child in me loved it. ‘Ha! The child in me’. How ironic

 

Au Revoir!!

Au Revoir!!

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So I’m a little premature but between work and organising myself (I.e figuring out how to squeeze enough shoes and clothes and make up into tiny hand luggage) I doubt I’ll have time to blog before I go.

On the 25th January (Burns night to any fellow Scots out there) my husband and I will be celebrating our 1 year anniversary. Of course last year we were pregnant and excited and blablabla – we all know how that did NOT turn out. BUT! I am positive Nicola for the time being and I’m being positive about our future and about our upcoming 4 day trip to the city of luurrvveee (don’t worry I hate me too for saying that). PARIS!

We’re really trying to put the past behind us now. Not in a ‘forgetting what happened ‘ kinda way, just more like trying not to let it rule us.
So this trip is going to be a good trip. We’re going to be those annoying tourists and do annoying tourist things like go to the Louvre, Notre Dame, Catacombs, Eiffel Tower, Pete Lachaise and…. DISNEYLAND. (I’m 29 and not even slightly ashamed). We’re going to take loads of pictures, do loads of kissing, eat escargot and freshly baked croissants and maybe have some ‘grown-up’ fun  (and actually for FUN because I won’t be TTC) and most importantly I WILL NOT CRY!!! Nope. I won’t.

Oh for anyone that is just dying to know how I’m getting on, I’ll be trying to upload some pics on my IG account if I get time. (You can search “sideshownikki” to get me)

New Year

New Year

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It’s a New Year but it’s not quite a new me. Not yet. 

I have my appointment tomorrow with the recurrent miscarriage clinic. I officially suffer from “recurrent miscarriages”. I hate that this is an issue for me. I find it so hard to stay positive sometimes. All my family and friends keep saying “Don’t worry, it will happen eventually. It will happen when the time is right, when you least expect it”. 

I guess that’s supposed to make me feel better, but I just smile and nod while secretly seething on the inside; frustrated at their total lack of understanding. 

Everybody seems to feel the need to come and tell me about their neighbour/sister/daughter/cousin/niece who’s trying for her 7th baby or just announced she’s pregnant after she forgot to take her pill that one day. Sometimes I imagine saying to them that while it’s lovely news, I can’t be overly happily as I’ve sadly lost 3 babies. I imagine their smiling faces dropping. I imagine them not being able to look me in the eye; not knowing how to cope with their guilt. Of course, I only imagine it. The good that’s in me lets them enjoy their moment. They’re entitled to be happy. 

I know I would be.  

Checking in…..

Checking in…..

I’m coming to the end of my TWW (that’s two week wait to those who don’t know. And if you didn’t know that, you’re either perfectly sane or you’ve only recently joined the crazy ladies of the TTC group. That’s ‘trying to conceive’ by the way. Jesus, we love our acronyms. 

I’m due either tomorrow or Friday and I’ve been trying not to think about it too much – she says while blogging about it. I don’t feel pregnant, but then I didn’t really feel pregnant any other time either. I’ve been using an app to track my cycle and according to that my PMS should well have kicked in by now, but I’m surprisingly calm and laidback – normally I admittedly can get a little unhinged. So that’s a good sign right? Is it a bad sign? Is it even a sign? Am I clutching? 

All I hear is that I shouldn’t worry because I’ve got pregnant before,  but how does that help? Yeah I’ve been pregnant, but I’ve never carried a baby to term so obviously something isn’t right. It’s been 8 months since my miscarriage. Time keeps moving, and the more it does the less I believe this journey will end the way I want it to. 

I just can’t shake this feeling that somethings wrong and it’s not going to happen for me. 

 

Escaping the grey

Escaping the grey

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Aunt Flo is due next week. Next Thursday to be precise and I’m feeling relatively calm this time round. I actually think we hit ovulation pretty spot on, although we aren’t being super strict and stressing about it (or at least trying not to; it’s easier said than done). We’re still doing ‘it’ a couple of times during my “hot week” as I like to call it. I’m pretty sure that’s the technical term anyway.

I can honestly say that this is the first month since my loss that I feel ok about not being pregnant. I finally feel in a good place. Yes, of course I would still love to see that big fat positive on Thursday, but if I don’t – that’s ok. I’m happier now than what I was. I feel content just being around my husband and my stepson. I’m looking forward to things now, like going trick-or-treating in a few weeks (for my stepson, not me – promise!). I apologise for mentioning it, but I’m excited about Christmas. I absolutely cannot wait to go to Paris in January for our anniversary . I’m trying to realise that I can enjoy these things whether I’m pregnant or not. Having a baby isn’t everything to me right now. I need to be here for my family and stop letting it eat away at me.

When I really sit down and take a look at my life, I’m actually pretty lucky. Ok, so I don’t have my baby right now and yes that’s horrible… but look at what I do have. I have a husband who loves me and a stepson who adores me. I get to share most of my days with the 2 people that mean the most to me, and nothing will change that. I’m finally happy.

P.S the picture is of the spot where we buried the letter and booties for the baby. We put the little flower on top too. (if you’ve read my post 12 weeks you’ll know what I’m talking about). It’s in the Hotel Sol Cayo Coco in Cuba, and we really hope to go back one day….