Happiness is a new hairdo

New hair colour: check!
New swagger in my step: check!
Feel like a queen: check!
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Ahhhhh... happiness is a new hairdo.
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T.G.I.F.

Doesn’t it also make you murderous annoy you intensely when someone phones you (especially on your landline and not on your cellphone) so early in the morning that you wake up thinking “Who died?” because surely that would be the only reason why someone in their right minds would phone so early? I must admit it really gets on my nerves. Just this morning, while the sparrows were still farting in their fluffy nests, I was awoken by one such phonecall. Instant adrenalin rush. I toss the duvet (and the cat lying on it) onto the floor, race through the house with my heart pounding and breathlessly answer the phone screeching “WHAT HAPPENED?” no doubt giving the caller the fright of their lives on the other end too! This is the critical moment now. I can hear my heart doing the lambada and I desperately want to hear a “Sorry, nothing’s happened” but at the same time I am challenging them to say it. Because when they do, I want to blast them for phoning at such a ridiculous hour.

This morning it was a timid little old granny’s voice on the other end of the line. I probably took about 42 years off of her life when I answered! Now, how can I shout at a little old granny? Granted, I’ve never really shouted at anyone, granny or otherwise, who phones at such a stupid time… but I’ve really wanted to. Guilty as charged, of intent to throttle. Yes, she asked a zillion questions that could just as easily have been asked two hours later. Yes, I was rattling with unspent adrenalin. And yes, I went straight back to bed afterwards, where it took me about fifteen minutes to settle back into slumber. It’s hard to fall asleep when you’re cross!

And then, I awoke at 08h01. I start work at 08h00. Yes… adrenalin rush numero two. (What is two in Spanish? Doss or something?) So here I sit… still rattling with adrenalin, wishing desperately for a beloved and for my bed. And now the internet doesn’t want to work. Lovely.

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Thank Goodness it’s Friday!

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P.S. An ode to Friday: click here (and turn up the volume)

Ooooohhhhh, the yokey pokey!

Praise God. I just had a revelation. If this is as good a reason as I'm going to find, then it's enough for me right now.
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Remember the other day (in my post "Of butts and crackers...") I shared with you that text where God says "Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." [Matthew 11 v 28]... and later it says in v 29 "Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Remember, I didn't really comment on the "take My yoke upon you" part.
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Now that's the thing that just slotted into place in my mind.
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Do you know what a yoke is? Besides the yellow squidgy bit of an egg, I mean. Oh wait, that's a yolk isn't it? OK, so a yoke is:

• A crossbar with two U-shaped pieces that encircle the necks of a pair of oxen or other draft animals working together. plural: yoke or yokes. A pair of draft animals, such as oxen, joined by a yoke.
• A bar used with a double harness to connect the collar of each horse to the pole of a wagon or coach.

So that tells me, it's something that binds one to another, so that the one lessens the load the other one is pulling. It's a teamwork thing. It means that the animals are joined to eachother with something that keeps them walking side by side. If one runs ahead of the other, the yoke doesn't do it's job. It's meant to help them SHARE the load and keep them walking side by side. Isn't that really interesting? So now let's read that verse again...

"Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." [Matthew 11 v 29]

It's a special yoke. It's a yoke that Jesus designed. See, He calls it "My yoke." And what is the purpose of it? To bind us to Him. To help us to walk with Him. To keep us at His side. To allow Him to share our burdens. And what is the result if we allow ourselves to be yoked to Him? We "will find rest for our souls".

So now, how can I be so impatient with my life and not having a baby? That just tells me that I've untied the yoke and run away from Jesus; I've gone and run in search of an answer to my own prayers. I need to step in line with Him again. I really want that "rest" for my soul, that He promises. I want that peace that passes all understanding. I want to walk (and work) by Jesus' side. I want to work with Him, not run ahead of Him.

Time for me to strap on His yoke again, I think.

The Names of The Babes

My god-son, Caleb, is being born today, to one of my fave cousins, Sharnay, and her hubby Kevin. Kevin reckons labour is like fishing: patience patience patience! haha. I know a few friends who've given birth recently who would have a lot more descriptive expletives adjectives to use! haha.
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So today my mind is in Port Elizabeth, wondering how Sharnay is doing. I can't wait to hear that little Caleb has arrived.
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Have you noticed that it's a Baby Boom at the moment? It's just babies left right and centre. Every second day I'm posting another blog about another friend having another baby. It can become rather confusing! It's a little inconsiderate don't you think? I mean, couldn't they have consulted eachother before they conceived? Just a little ok, you're due in Feb, I'll go for March, you in April etc. Haha! Just kidding.
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Just yesterday I got the cutest video clips from Quinton and Christine in Brisbane, of their newest little babe Keana, with one of their other daughters Paige. And me, being the excitable silly billy that I am, I immediately sent them an email that went something like this:

Thanks for the groovy video clips you sent! Little Paige is just the cutest thing! :o) ... [blah blah blah... etc etc... warra warra fish paste... etc etc... and then:] The pics of little Noah are so peaceful... who knew she had such a loud voice! haha.

Oh my! Imagine my embarrassment when I received a message from Christine saying (and I quote)....

Oh yes, by the way, in the email you sent me my baby's name is KEANA not Noah! Come on girlfriend get with the program.

Hahahah! I'm still crimson. See? I'm so bad. I'm bad with names to begin with... but throw a bunch of new babies onto the planet all in one foul swoop and I'm bound to get their names all jumbled up. Hahahah! I'm terrible!

So I've come up with a plan. 'n Boer maak 'n plan! Henceforth, all new arrivals will be dubbed The Baby. Short and sweet. Sweet and simple. No room for confusion. Silence can't be misquoted, but silence isn't an option for me with my big mouth. So, The Baby it is.

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Edited to add:

P.S. I just remembered another really embarrassing time I got names confused. For many years I dated a really groovy guy named Shaun. And while Shaun and I were together, Robin and Debbie were together. About a year after Robin and I broke up with our respective exes, Robin and I started dating. It was on one rather romantic occasion that I hugged Robin and said: "I love you so much, Shaun!" Hysterical laughter! Splatter splatter! Gasp gasp! Shock horror! Where is the Rewind button when you need one?!? Well, lucky for me, about two weeks later, Robin said to me, "Deb, you're such an awesome lady! I love you so much!" hahahahaha! Phew! I was so relieved! hahaha! So, those two incidents cancelled eachother out, and we were even stevens. hahaha. So, you see? I wasn't lying when I said I really am B-A-D with names.

Little Caleb

Caleb has arrived! He gave us all a bit of a scare, but all's well that ends well. Sharnay had an emergency caesar, and Caleb graced us with his presence at 11h42 this morning. He weighs 2,9 kg's. And that's all I know right now. You know men - they like skimpy things, and apparently details fall into that category too. So, Kevin, thanks for letting us know little Caleb has joined us. Congratulations to the new daddy and mommy, and to Caleb's brother, Keanen. As always, I'll share the pics when I have them.

Smooth moves

What a fantastic new day! haha. OK, so I'm a bit rickety. One day up. One day down. Sorry about yesterday, by the way. I had the blues. I even contemplated changing my blog's whole look to grey n dingy. Thank goodness, I didn't have time to fiddle.

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Happy Char's back. Be gone, awful blues!

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Some good news. For those of you who have been waiting to hear how my friend Ashleigh in Brisbane is doing, she's doing really well. Noah is home with the family now, and is the cutest little thing. Here are some pics. Ash, you are going to be such a fun, funky mom. I wish I could be there to enjoy this life-changing time with you.

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Speaking about life changes. Robin and I have been on a bit of a life change ourselves. So, you know we lurrrrrrve our dairy and the occassional braai (that's BBQ in American and Australian), not to mention my passion for my beloved's*. Well, having listened to Prof. Walter Veith's seminars for the past (almost) two weeks, we decided to ship up and shape up and drop the rubbish from our diet... and that (boo hoo!) happens to include the dairy and meat and (sob!) my beloved's*. Prof. Veith told me that Harvard Medical School has released a study showing a distinct link between the consumption of dairy and infertility. So, guess who's no longer consuming any dairy? Yes, we're predictable! haha. Well, it's been smoothies for supper almost every night since then. Anyone have any good "vegan" smoothie recipes? Here's a really yummy one. We're finding out what tastes good by trial and error... So anyway, back to the recipe:

Ingredients:

1 cup soya milk (already mixed)

2 bananas

1 apple

1 pear

half a cup raw oats

half a cup mixed nuts

1 tablespoon peanut butter

a squeeze of honey (optional)

So much of yummy that is! We literally just put whatever fruit we have in there. This morning we added carob powder to the mix and it tastes really chocolatey then. Of course you could skip the milk and nuts, and just add a splash of fruit juice and Bob's your uncle.

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I tell you what, eating such a lot of "whole foods" makes for an interesting ... mmmm.... how can I put this? Bathroom experience! haha. Anyway, before this blog degenerates into a exposé of long-drop proportions, I shall love you and leave you.

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Smoothie anyone?

Be still, my bleeding heart!

What is it with me, that I just can't seem to move beyond really wanting a baby? Just when I think I've moved on with my life and taken steps to being happy again, my little heart squeals and squeaks and throws a tantrum. How do I shush this desperate, destructive desire I have? I would give anything, ANYTHING!, to have a baby of my own. I don't care if it pops from my own body, or from someone else's. I just reallllly want one! A little bundle to call mine. A baby that calls for me at night, and that I get to hold and rock and sit through the night with. I. Really. Want. A. Baby. Now.

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How much longer do I need to be patient?

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I've been told once or twice that the only reason I want this so badly is because I can't have it. Well, there's certainly some truth in that statement. If only the logic of it would get through to this throbbing orb beating in my chest... Oh, be still, my bleeding heart!

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Oh well... crying is not going to make this better. And neither will this tantrum. So I may as well just shut up. Consider my mouth zipped.

Little Eli

Here is a video of little Eli. Too cute!

Anybody know of someone who might want to give me a baby?

My achy-breaky heart

I am sad today.

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This is one of the reasons why infertility really sux. Because you can be ok with it for weeks at a time, then you'll wake up one day feeling fragile and heartsore and incomplete again. Today it hurts again.

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I can't even tell you why today is any different from any other day. It just is. And it just hurts.

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People's sympathy doesn't help. Acts of kindness don't help. Because though all of it is prompted by love, it doesn't remove this dull ache.

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My cocoon is looking mighty inviting right now.

Of butts and crackers...

I'm really tired today. Dunno why. Maybe it's because it's such sit-on-my-couch-with-my-blankie-and-my-cat-and-a-really-good-book weather today... Maybe it's just a bunch of late nights attending the Walter Veith seminars that have caught up with me... but I'm tired. Bone tired.

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Robin says I need a cracker under my butt. The way I'm feeling right now, it would have to be a cracker of sputnik proportions. A butt cracker ... crotch rocket. Haha. OK, clearly tired = crass / gross in Char's books. Well, they have banned fireworks in Natal. So I'll have to find another pick-me-up.

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Ideas, anyone?

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I keep thinking of that verse that says "Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." [Matthew 11 v 28] Isn't that encouraging? Some of the other newer translations say "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Man, that verse is a perfect description for me today. I am weary and burdened. So, how do I lean on God even in being tired? The next verse says: "Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Isn't that interesting? There's a lot to be said about the "take my yoke" part. But today, the part that interests me is that next bit... the "learn from Me" bit.

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Isn't it time we all learned from Jesus? What did He do when He was bone tired?

1. He rested.
2. He went to a quiet place alone and prayed. There are countless references to Him going somewhere quiet to pray [e.g. Matt 14 v 23, Mark 6 v 46, Luke 9 v 28]. It wasn't even unusual for Him to pray through the night [Luke 6 v 12].

Clearly, if it was only about being physically tired, Jesus would simply have slept, and not gone and prayed through the night, right? When Jesus was emotionally drained, it was His Heavenly Father that strengthened Him. And the channel of that empowerment was? Prayer.

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Remember the time He was so physically tired that He slept right through the splashing waves and the rocking boat and His disciples' terrified screams? Now that is tired. It's also something more though. It's a testimony to His divinity that even in His total exhaustion, He was aware that the wind and the waves would obey Him. He could rest in the knowledge that nothing was beyond His control. Why wouldn't the wind and the waves obey Him, if it was His voice that had called them into existance at creation?

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Today, I qualify. I am weary and burdened. Notice, He doesn't say "come to Me, all who are perfect and without sin and totally capable of doing-it-yourselves." The only qualification is being weary and burdened. None are excluded. He will GIVE us rest. It's a gift!!! I love presents. Don't you? Every good and perfect gift is from above. [James 1 v 17] Even rest.

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Maybe I should do exactly as Jesus advised. "Come unto Me."

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The clincher for me though is the end of the verse. Listen to this part: "...learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Who better to run to for rest, than a God who is gentle and humble in heart? A God who cared enough about us, that He even created rest, just for us. And surely when we learn from Him, as the verse tells us, we too will become gentle and humble in heart?

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What an awesome God we serve.

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So, spare me the crackers, people. God has a better plan for me.

Pics of Eli

I just received some beautiful pics of little Eli. What a cutie! Here they are.

Bean Soup for the Soul

There are certain measures I take to protect my healing broken-heart. One of them is deciding to cut myself some slack. Let me explain...

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Today is one of my friend's surprise stork parties. All the women in my family, as well as other girl friends I know, are there right now. But I'm not. I decided not to go. I don't trust myself enough yet, to go and sit there in their presence, while they ooh and ahh over things that literally make me feel broken. I love my friend that's pregnant, and I'm happy for her that she will be a mom soon. But I just can't be there right now. I'm healing, you see. Being there today would be like me ripping off the freshly formed scabs on a very deep cut. I need some more time before I'll trust myself to go to another stork party. I really hope she's not offended because I didn't go. But, then again, oh well. I'm not going to sit here feeing bad because I didn't go. Then I could just as well go and still feel bad. So, I might as well stay home and feel bad ... lick my wounds ... relax without anyone watching me ... enjoy my time blogging.

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So, I've cut myself some slack. I've saved myself going there and being asked "When do we get to throw you a stork party?" I've also saved myself the forced smiles, the awkwardness they feel around me. The feeling that, as much as I try not to be The Wet Blanket, everyone still breathes a collective sigh of relief that they don't need to spare my feelings anymore.

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And that's OK. Because I'm much happier this way. I bought my friend a gift, but I overslept this morning and didn't give it to my family in time for them to take it with them to the party. So much for my best intentions.

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So, that's my day. It comes with the territory, and I should be used to it by now. I must admit, it really does get easier. This is how the rest of my life will probably be, so if this is it, well, then that's that. And accepting it has given me permission to say to myself, Char, forget about social responsibilities. Nobody there has walked in your shoes. You give yourself as much space as you need. They don't need me there for it to be a successful party. (As much as I would love to think that! haha!) So, rather keep your heart in tact.

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And that's why I'm home blogging and they're out celebrating.

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And that's also why they're going to eat lots of cake and get fat, while I'm going to eat my beans and get thin. Haha. Just kidding.

In the words of The Byrds

I'm not a bird watcher, nor a Byrd listener, in the strict sense of being "a listener". But I do like this song, and mostly because it's almost a direct quote from scripture:-

To everything - turn, turn, turn... There is a season - turn, turn, turn... And a time for every purpose under heaven... A time to be born, a time to die... A time to plant, a time to reap... A time to kill, a time to heal... A time to laugh, a time to weep.. To everything - turn, turn,turn... There is a season...

And I believe those words are taken from Ecclesiastes 3

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How exciting that we get to be witnesses of the God of creation, in even the change of seasons and the birth of a beautiful baby boy. My friend Chantell gave birth to their son last night. What a miracle that little boy is. I don't think we can quite grasp the enormity of a new life joining us on planet earth. It is so life-changing and thrilling and awe-inspiring. This is our time to rejoice.

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I am so grateful that I get to share in the lives of people who are so blessed of God. I'm also blessed, but in other ways. And for that I am grateful. My time of weeping has passed. No more woe-is-me anymore.

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It is a new season. One where I put God back on His throne in my life. And where I sing along with The Byrds at the top of my lungs.

Little Eli

An update on little Eli and his family. Hats off to his mommy, who was in labour for 15 hours. Fifteen hours. My word! Channies, only someone who's been there, done that, can really know how brave you are! I can only imagine. You deserve an award breakfast in bed for the rest of your life! And exemption from doing the ironing. Shucks, while we're at it, let's throw in never having to do the dishes again for the rest of your life!

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Little Eli arrived on 22 March 2007 at 7:05 pm (USA time) and weighs 7lb 13 oz and is 21 inches long. For those of you in civilised countries, that translates into 4 and a half kg's and 53 cm's long.

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Welcome to the world, Eli!

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Once I have permission, I will post pics.

Eli is on the way!

Just a quickie to let you know that Chantell is in labour! And maybe by now little Eli has already arrived. We are BESIDE OURSELVES with excitement!!! Yippee! I can't wait to hear how you are all doing. Dewie, we are praying stukkend, boetie. Love you guys!

Beans beans beans

... that's about all we have now in our grocery cupboard. Oh, and soya. Beans and soya. ew! ...Yum. Oh wait, soya are beans, aren't they? Well there you go then.

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See, we are determined to give this healthy lifestyle thingy-me-bob a really good bash. So, here I sit at my desk with oh-so-exciting recipe book that dates back to Noah's ark, or somewhere in that era, and I'm reading recipes on how to make things like Easy Bean Soup, Creamy Bean Soup, Hearty Bean and Veg Soup... honestly! How many soup suppers can you have in a week? Oh wait! There's more in this book than just soup. There's also Bean Salad, Butter Beans, Bean Casserole, Deep Pan Bean Pizza... Bean Pizza?

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Clearly I'm v excited.

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I can see this turning into a somewhat smelly aromatic lifestyle change. Spare a thought for me tonight when you're eating your lasagne, would you?

Plastic surgery

So I finally succumbed. I gave my blog a facelift. And isn't it much easier on the eyes now? They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Well, I'm going to edit that to say: beauty is in the eye of the blogger. So there you go. Like it? Don't like it? I don't mind either way. One thing's for sure - my eyes are no longer hurting! If only it were as easy to transform our bodies...

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P.S. If you had unlimited money, and the opportunity to have a real life facelift (or boob job / liposuction / nip / tuck...) would you?

Some people have gay-dar...

It's weird how infertility works. Wait, how infertility works with me. (My body's a bit odd. Even in infertility circles. Mmmm. What's new, right?)
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See, there's this huge sensitivity surrounding new babies. For obvious reasons. You want one. You can't have one. Others can. And so it's a bleugghhh place to be. And because your friends / family love you and don't want to hurt you, announcing your pregnancy to an infertile can turn into something very tricky and something akin to a horror show... I actually feel so sorry for all of you guys that have had to tell me you're pregnant, by the way! I can see the agony written all over your faces and I really love you even more for handling me with kid gloves on!
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While I'm loath to admit it, it hurts MORE to hear that someone's pregnant (especially those unplanned pregnancies) than to hear the baby's actually arrived. Maybe it's because I've had 9 months to get used to the idea, by the time the little okie actually pops out.
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The funny thing is that usually by the time I'm told someone is pregnant, I already know. And not because I've already heard it via the grapevine, but because I think I've developed a rather clever babe-dar. Other people have gay-dar. I have babe-dar. It's this premonition that I get around preggy women. I really couldn't tell you how I know. I just do. Maybe it's my proximity to their happy hormones. Mine are SO all over the show, that when I'm around a preggy woman, I just KNOW it, sometimes even before they do. And then when they find out, it's like a game with me to see how long they take to tell me they're pregnant. I know, I'm terrible! Oh well.
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I think what might make it easier for them to tell me, maybe, would be the knowledge that I really am happy for them that they're pregnant. I'm so relieved that they don't have to go through what Robin and I do. I'm not jealous of them. That would be a relatively easy emotion to deal with.

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NOTE: I came back to edit a spelling error & just lost the rest of this post!!! Boo hoo... can't believe it. Oh well. Sorry. Can't remember what I had written here, but think it might have been something to the effect of: love you lots, glad you're preggy, am so happy to have you in my life and wish for you only the very happiest and easiest pregnancies. And to thank you for loving me enough to put up with me raining on your preggy parades. I wish I was a better friend than I am! I'm trying though! lots of xxx

So much to say, so little time

I have LOADS on my mind today. But I know you're all v v busy with incredibly important things to do and therefore little time to sit and read my blog. Thus I will break my blog up into bitesized chunks, running over a few days. You'll have to stay tuned.
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Numero Uno.
Did you know that drinking milk (from a cow, that is...) actually gives you osteoporosis? And doesn't prevent it? Robin's taken to calling it (the milk, not the cow) Boob Juice! Haha! Have a v good friend, Dale, who calls it Nipple Nectar. Ew! That paints all sorts of gross pictures in my head. But back to my point. All of our school education has taught us the basic food pyramid. You know... so many portions of protein a day, so many glasses of milk, so many fruits... warra warra fish paste. But recent studies have proven quite the opposite of what advertising has indoctrinated us! It's FASCINATING! Well, to me it is. (And being the author of this blog, I get to decide!) Now, you all know that my fave thing on planet earth (besides babies, and Robin of course) is milky coffee! Boo hoo... don't even get me started on lamenting the hazards of coffee. I'm most distressed.
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See, we went to this INCREDIBLY interesting seminar last night at a school up in Hillcrest, hosted by a really nifty guy called Professor Walter Veith. I had watched his set of dvd's before, so when I heard he was coming to Durban, we dropped all things tv-related and headed up the hill to go and listen.
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What an amazing man! Such stunning stuff he shared with us - and not only about milk, but also about how important breakfast is, what sugar does, fats, etc. Life changing stuff. Uh... that is, if I decide to give up my beloved's every day. V v hard. I'll have to think about this one.

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Numero... two

My friend Ashleigh in Oz had her little boy on Friday. They have named him Noah. Please think of him. The docs have him in a special care unit as he has too much fluid on his lungs. As I know more, so will you.

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Number three

My tjommie Chantell is supposed to be having her little baby boy sometime... anytime now. We're all sitting on tenterhooks here. I tried to phone them yesterday on Skype (how cool is Skype by the way?) but no answer. So, you know the drill. As I know more, so will you.

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Number four

You've all been asking about Maybe Baby. Thanks for waiting long enough for me to get myself together on this one. I know you were all dying to ask questions sooner, but were respecting my wishes to give me some space.

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Here's the thing: we didn't get Maybe Baby. At the moment I don't know who did. Maybe the family who adopted Maybe Baby's sibling a few years ago? Maybe the granny? Better not to know. But for now, we're childless. That's ok. We're used to it by now. And we have plenty to occupy ourselves. And besides, I'm moving on, remember? So, that's what's happened with Maybe Baby.

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OK, I still have LOADS to say, but will save it for another day. That wasn't supposed to rhyme! Woops. OK, keep fingers, thumbs, toes and noses crossed for my two friends, Ashleigh and Chantell please. Can't stop thinking about them!

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So, tune in again tomorrow, for more Days of our Lives. haha!

Friends and babies

Today one of my best friends from High School, Ashleigh, is having their little baby by Caesarian Section, in Australia. Actually, by now he's probably already arrived and taken his place on the planet. Welcome to the world little Stash! We don't know if it's a boy or a girl yet, but will keep you all up to date!

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AAAAAaaannnddd, my tjommies Dewald and Chantell, in the USA, might be having their baby anytime from this weekend on. We're thinking of you guys hey! Can't wait to get the good news that little Eli has arrived.

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And in the light of such enormous happenings taking place in my friends' lives, it's hard to come up with other stuff that might be interesting to share with you readers. So, not much else to say today, I'm afraid. Hope you all have a brilliant weekend.

One day, when I grow up...

... I wanna be Drew Barrymore. Full Stop. Why do you wanna be Drew Barrymore? you wanna know... I'm so glad you asked!
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For a few reasons. Most of my reasons begin with a B, which stands for:

• Beautiful.
• Boobs.
• Babelicious lips.
• Booty.
• Barrel-loads of money.

Now now, before all of you start thinking I have lesbian tendencies, which I dont, there's more to this thing about Drew Barrymore that makes her absolutely fascinating. Maybe it's that she grew up in front of the camera and being the closet lurkers that we all are (yes, I know you've all googled your ex's names!) we like to watch other people.

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Robin and I go people-watching all the time. We traipse down to our fave mall, veg out in our fave coffee spot, and watch the passers-by. We can sit there for hours, without needing to fill the air with chit-chat. I like chit-chat, but sometimes just watching is also fun. The combination of being surrounded by books, the aroma of coffee, usually good music playing in the background etc. all adds up to one very happy Char. Almost all of my favourite things in close proximity to eachother.

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The thing about people-watching is that it makes you feel good about yourself. You see all sorts of people out and about. Fatties, thinnies, baldies, oldies, youngies, hippies, grungies... you name it. And usually we do a mental comparison between ourselves and the person we're watching. Well, they're fatter than me. I'm not that old. At least I don't dress like a curtain rod. What was that guy thinking when he did his hair this morning? and so on. Usually we have a chuckle or two at their expense, the minute they're out of earshot. Yes, we're very bad. But don't you be climbing on your high horse. Nope, you do it too. And then when we're all satisfied that we "blend" or that we "stand out" or that we're "better off", or that "we must be so much happier than them!" we hop into our fancy air-conditioned vehicles and drive home to our Mr and Mrs Jones homes and veg some more.

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Nothing brings out the "I wonder what they're thinking of me" more than that much dreaded anticipated invitation to the old School Reunion. You get your invitation and you're like... Oh my goodness... I have to get thin before I go. I need to get my hair done and my nails fixed... Why? Because we want others to think we're highly successful and that we have made it, of course.

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I think I'm (finally!) beyond caring what other people think of me. Which brings me back to Drew Barrymore. Yes, when I grow up, I wanna be Drew Barrymore. Because she just is. She dresses however she wants. Works on whatever projects she wants to work. Doesn't brush her hair somedays. Loves her partner (whoever he might be at any given moment) passionately and wholeheartedly. And she laughs unreservedly from the very bottom-most part of her gutt. Wouldn't it be groovy being Drew?

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Watch this space. I might just rock up at work tomorrow dressed in my pj's and without brushing my hair.

We get to Don't worry! Be happy!

Nobody told me that "not trying" would be so much fun! Dunno why, but nobody thought it would be worth mentioning to me. Cummon guys - we're relying on you to be honest with us! Consider yourselves berated.
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Back to my point. Things I love about not trying anymore:-

1. We have MONEY again! Lots of it. Well, not really lots of it... but fertility treatments are BLOODY expensive and compared to those years of doctors doctors doctors bills bills bills, we are now rolling in it guys. We actually find fifty bucks in our wallets that we didn't even know was still there! And all of you know that when pennies are scarce, you always know exactly how much money is in your wallet. Zip. Having Cash = Very Nifty.
2. I get to drink my beloved's* whenever I feel like it, without worrying about how many eggs I'm pickling. Actually now that I think about it... that was the thing I missed the most while "trying".
3. We can plan trips away without worrying about if it's going to coincide with / clash with when I should be on a doctor's table somewhere being tortured... uh... er... enjoying more fertility treatments. This is one of the niftiest things I think. Oh yes, almost forgot to tell you! Guess what? We're going overseas in June!!! Yes, me happy. We are going to visit two of our very best friends, Dewald and Chantell, in North Carolina in the US of A for a few weeks. They are having a little baby boy within the next week or so, and we are going to meet little Eli. Can't wait. So, you see? We can just hop on a plane now all willy nilly without worrying.
4. I don't have to pop myriads of pills every day anymore.
5. I don't have to watch the calendar or count days or chart my basal body temperature anymore. That really sucked. The thing with PCOS (one of my afflictions) is that you never know when / if you happen to be ovulating. YAY! I don't have to do that anymore.
6. There is no more waiting. Waiting for ovulation. Waiting for / imagining pregnancy symptoms. Waiting for a positive pregnancy test. Waiting for the scan. Then Waiting for the miscarriage to happen. Waiting for my irregular cycle to return to normal so we could try again... Waiting Waiting Waiting. Waiting sucks. No more waiting for me, thank you very much. I'm back to instant gratification. It works for me!

The list goes on and on, but those are the top of my pops. FINALLY! We get to Don't Worry! Be Happy!

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*Beloveds = Cappuccinos

I get it!

Nobody wants to read about me being all woe-is-me everyday. And you know what? Neither would I want to open a site everyday that is going to make me feel like Auschwitz would be a good holiday destination. And sooooo.... I've been seriously considering changing the name of my blog, and the whole look of it... I'm sure the black screen and the blue text etc. conveys a very booo-hoooooo impression of me, which would have been rather appropriate when I was "infertile Char".
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But see, I'm trying to shake that whole image. Here I'm trying to redefine myself as someone other than "infertile Char" and then I put a huge label at the top of the blog, declaring my baby-making-inability and then hope people will start to think of me as something other than that? Duh!!! Hahaha. I acknowledge my stupidity.
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And now the big question is... SHOULD I change the face of my blog?
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That would mean that I am ready to relinquish that part of my life. But, so much of who I am now was molded by this infertility thing. My concept of who God is, the way I understand life, what I want from the future and so much more... it's all been influenced by that thingy-me-bob.
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Besides... there are many people I know of, who are struggling with the same thing. And they read my blog. Maybe something I have experienced will be helpful to them? Boy oh boy did I lurk around a bunch of other infertile's blogs - and what a relief to know that I wasn't alone! Suddenly I felt less isolated and like a dud. It was comforting to read that my thoughts and feelings weren't warped or crazy. What a relief! haha.
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It also makes me wonder... Do I really want to move on? I've become so accustomed to being "Infertile Char", I almost wonder, if I'm not "Infertile Char" anymore, who am I? I've made quite a comfortable home for myself in my cocoon. Am I ready to set this pain down and walk away from it? Do I trust God enough to carry me through it? Ideally, I should have such a clear grasp of God's nature that I shouldn't have trouble trusting God or yielding to His will for me.
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But you see, my desire to conceive has been so much more enormous than my desire to follow God's will for me.
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It's really really hard for me to lay down that frantic longing that I've nurtured for so long... How do you respond to the God who answers other people's prayers with an instantaneous YES and yours with silence?
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Do you know what David did? Go and read the story in 2 Samuel 12. David knew who to turn to when trouble came a-knocking at his door. When his son fell ill, David dropped to the ground, stretched out facedown and begged God to spare the life of his child. And he stayed facedown, not eating, not sleeping, just praying, for seven days. When he overheard his servants whispering, he realized that his son had died. His pleas and pleadings, his fasting and prostrating himself on the cold hard floor, it had all changed nothing. God's will hadn't changed.
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So, what do you do when you find yourself in trouble? Do you prostrate yourself at God's feet and beg and plead and refuse to take no for an answer? That's me. I've been there, done that, for the last five years. I just point blank refused to hear Him say "no".

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What do you do when the answer is no? When will you be ready to lift yourself up off of the floor, get to your knees and look at the world again? David did something so astounding, I had to read it twice before it sank in. 2 Samuel 12 v 20 says that when David realized his son was dead, he got up from the ground. After he'd bathed and put on lotion and a fresh change of clothes, he went to church and worshiped.

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When David had done everything in his power, and there was nothing left to try and every door of opportunity had closed, he laid aside his grief, put on some fresh clothes and worshiped. Because, you see, no matter if God never answers another one of our prayers, ever, He is still worthy of worship. He is God, after all.

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Am I ready to lay aside my grief? Do I want to be healed? I have finally stopped asking for my faulty plumbing to be repaired. My prayer now is for spiritual and emotional healing. I had become so accustomed to my pain and I identified so closely with the term infertile that when I asked myself the question if I really wanted to be healed, it was like I was contemplating amputating a well-loved limb. This is the me I know. "Infertile Char". I know that person. Call me biased, but I quite like her. (snigger snigger!)

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They tell me that mourning has a purpose. It is healing. It cleanses us from the inside and tenderizes the heart. When our dreams dissipate into thin air, mourning helps us to release pent-up anguish. Without grieving, some losses would destroy us. God designed mourning for our own good.

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But grief is only good to a certain point, then it goes miff. I had begun to nurture my grief so far past it's expiration date that my heart was beginning to reek of the vinegary residue of soured sorrow.

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What next? What does my future hold? Where to from here? Is this it? Letting go means surrendering. It means laying down your weapons, opening your hands, lifting them to Heaven and yielding yourself to The Other's will. Yielding can feel like the end of the world when you're contemplating it. But I've come to a crossroads. One path leads to peace, the other leads to bitterness.

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I hope the path I choose leads to the Saviour's feet. To a life of peace. I hope my future holds the same as what it did for David. Lots of time spent worshiping. And healing.

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*With thanks to Shannon Woodward, author of "Inconceivable" for the inspiration behind this post.

Little Keana

I just received the most beautiful pics of little Keana from my cuz. Here they are. Isn't she just the most beautiful little angel ever? How is it possible to love a little somebody so much, that we haven't even met yet???

Fresh air n fun...

It's amazing what a blast of fresh mountain air, some good old fun and time away from "life" can do for you. Had a fab weekend in the Midlands, spent meandering around the area, lazing around the campsite and just chilling. Lots of fun and reaaaaally yummy South African food was had by all. And we've returned home feeling rather well rested and relaxed. A whole week ahead waiting for us and I'm determined to regain my balance. That Maybe Baby really knocked me off kilter for a while there, but I HAVE DECIDED: it's time to get back on my feet and start living again. Watch this space. One Living Life To The Full Char Coming Up.

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PS... for those of you who want to lurk around my photo album of the weekend, consider yourself personally invited to have a squizz.

Little Keana

Keana was born to our cousin, Quinton, and his wife, Christine, at 18h07 today Oz time. She is 54cm tall, weighs 7,5 pounds (3.4 kg) and has a beautiful head full of hair. Christine is doing very well and so is little Keana. Praise God!

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As soon as we have received pics, I will show you the newest addition to our family.

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Welcome to the world, little Keana. xxx

My Comfy Cocoon

WARNING: If you're looking for a chirpy, happy-go-lucky blog to brighten your morning, go look elsewhere. You have been warned. I will not be held responsible for foul moods, you hear? See, I've been trying to think of something clever and captivating and encouraging to share with you all morning. Blogger was offline for a while this morning, so it gave me an excuse to hide for a while a chance to really think about what I wanted to post, while I waited to be able to access my blog again.

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I've tried really hard to just be level-headed and neutral and not to set my heart on this Maybe Baby. But, that terrible thing called Hope wormed it's way through the cracks in my armour and it's left me really vulnerable. All I really feel right now is depleted.

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This roller-coaster ride isn't fun anymore. Please can someone press STOP so that I can climb off?

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Why couldn't I just be left alone to regain my life, instead of being dangled this carrot?

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One Maybe Baby has taken me right back to that very dark little hole that I retreat into in an attempt at self-preservation. It's become quite a comfortable little cocoon. I was used to being there, you see.

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But this Maybe Baby gave me an opportunity to glimpse life beyond that dark dungeon and it was so brilliant and beckoning and beautiful and ... now that it's been snatched away from me, I'm left blinded by it's brightness. Suddenly the darkness feels thick and suffocating.

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Someone once told me that darkness is merely the absence of light.

How enlightening.

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Maybe what they should have mentioned is that the darkness is much safer. No-one sees you. It's easier on your heart as long as you stay in your hole. It's also lonely and soul-destroying. And it's not living. Hibernating is a shameful way to live a meaningful life.

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So now I get to choose. Am I willing to climb out of my safe little cocoon and allow Hope's rays to warm me again? Right now, I can't safely say.

The Waiting Game

It took me by surprise how badly I want this baby. I thought I had laid to rest my daily-diminishing dreams of having a home full of beautiful bubbly babies. Clearly I haven't. I. Really. Really! Want. This. Baby. It is taking every ounce of self-control to maintain a sense of decorum right now. I hate feeling this powerless to change my circumstances. Mainly because I can't change things, I will have to accept my impotence (haha! - funny! And it wasn't intentional either!) ... and just... wait...

Searching

I re-read yesterday morning's post and it made me realize something.

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Joseph and Mary lost Jesus. When they took Jesus to the temple for Passover, in their haste to leave Jerusalem afterwards and go back home, they didn't notice that they'd left Jesus, The Child entrusted to them, behind. One of my favourite books, The Desire of Ages, mentions that event. And I quote semi-paraphrasedly from page 83:-

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"If Joseph and Mary had kept their minds on God through meditation and prayer, they would have realized the sacredness of their trust, and wouldn't have lost sight of Jesus. But by one day's neglect they lost the Saviour; and it cost them three days of anxious search to find Him. So it is with us: through idle talk, evil-speaking, or neglect of prayer, we may in one day lose the Saviour's presence, and it may take many days of sorrowful search to find Him, and regain the peace that we have lost."

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And I'm wondering if my frantic search yesterday wasn't a precursor to God teaching me this valuable lesson. As wildly as I was searching for that scan, that is as passionately as I should be seeking God's presence! I need Him in my life. How can I neglect Him, and still expect to live peace-fully? I break up the word 'peacefully' deliberately, by the way. Peace. Fully.

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Yes, I need Him in my life. Not to be a santa clause or my genie in a bottle. But because He is The Source of Peace. He died specifically for that purpose. To give me peace beyond my circumstances.

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Remember, Joseph and Mary lost Jesus. THE Joseph and Mary, mind you. Not just any old Jo Soap or Mary Mary Quite Contrary. If even THE Mr Joseph and Mrs Mary could lose Jesus, so can you and I. But there's hope in this story. Because if, after three days of sorrowful searching, they found Jesus again, so can you and I!

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And of course, to make matters all the more interesting now, there's this Maybe Baby. People, there is no way to describe what this feels like. It's like finding water in the desert. Only, it's like you're tied to a palm tree and the water is one arm's length beyond your reach. And it makes me realize, yet again, that we are so piddly and powerless to alter our own circumstances. We really need God's intervention, in every aspect of the word.

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It's very hard to say "what will be will be" or "Your will be done" and to really mean it. It's even harder to accept that your dream for the future lies in the hands of someone who doesn't even know you. Some social worker somewhere who hasn't even met me, gets to decide if I am good enough to parent this baby. That's the small picture.

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The big picture is vastly different. I believe in a God who cares about every single one of us, and who has our eternal life in mind. And He really does know what's best. How can I ask Him to guide me, then throw a tantrum when things don't go my way? How can I ask for His will to be done, then when His will is different from mine, I turn my back on Him and go about things my way?

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I know what sorrowful searching is all about. Right now I am seeking His presence and His will. Of course I would love to throw a tantrum and raise my fist in anger when things don't work out the way I want them to, but praise God, there's grace to be found in the God that created and saved us.

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" 'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord. 'Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future... And you will seek for Me and find Me when you seek for Me with all your heart.' " Jeremiah 29 v 11, 13.

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Anybody want to join me in the search?

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P.S. I am going to post below a copy of the email I sent to my closest friends and family, sharing exactly what I know about this baby. Please pray with me about this? Thank you.

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Hello everyone! Thank you so much for all of your sms's, emails, phonecalls etc. I promised to keep you up to speed. So I'm emailing you all now so that you all know what I know. Please don't keep asking me if I know anything further - I promise I will keep you up to date. This is an enormous emotional uphill battle which has only just begun. How can I already be this exhausted so early??? Robin and I are determined to stay level-headed about it and to keep placing our desires before God's throne and asking His will to be done.
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Anyway, now for what's going on. I've spoken to my friend who is our contact to the family some more... and things have been complicated by a few things... it's such a long story, so this is the short version:-

• The family that adopted the first child has first option.
• The granny adopted the second child.
• The granny cannot afford to adopt the third one.
• The family that adopted the first child wants the third, but only if it's not a "foster first, then maybe you get to adopt the baby later" situation. Which makes perfect sense.
• We are not known by the social workers, which puts us in a precarious situation where they probably won't consider us.
• The social workers have yet to remove the child from where it is.
• The parents of the baby are druggies.
• Therefore the baby is probably a crack baby.
• They live in someone's back yard in a room.
• The mother of the child is (quote): "A standard five child." I don't know if that means she's a semi-adult with only a std 5 education, or if she's literally a child still herself.
• The social welfare department wants to try to rehabilitate the parents of the baby and restore the family unit.
• The granny wants an "open adoption" situation where she can still know the child.
• We want a closed adoption, where there is never an option that the baby will be snatched from us and returned to a potentially-abusive situation.

So, now you know what we know. I know these statements above will prompt another fifty two million questions from you guys, but at the moment I don't have answers. So please please don't ask me more questions. I am asking those same questions and I don't have answers. So I promise we will keep you all informed.
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The chances of us getting the baby are very slim. But I believe in a God who created the universe and who can take slim chances and make huge fat promises from them.
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I am not asking God for this child. I am asking for His will to be done for us. He knows that Robin and I are (finally!) willing to follow wherever He leads. We have laid our dreams at His feet and will accept whatever His answer is. He is God. I need to trust Him.
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So there you go. Please keep lifting us up to God in prayer. And ask God to help us cope with whatever His will is and to give us clear direction.
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Thanks for praying with us and for caring! God knew what He was doing when He gave us you as friends and family.

PLEASE PRAY!!!

OK, I am shaking. Something HUGE is happening. I just got a phonecall from a very good friend. I don't know how to say this and I'm just blabbing it all out. Sorry I'm so incoherant. This is what's up.

We might have found a baby to adopt! And it's all very sudden.

It's a little white girl, 2 months old. She is the third child produced by a couple who have already had two of their three children adopted by other people because they are incapable of looking after their children. The parents are druggies. I have no idea if this little baby is a "crack" baby or not. I just know that the granny is being given custody of the little girl today. And the granny is looking for a family to adopt the child, because she cannot care for it. The granny lives in Richards Bay.

My heart is already attached to the child and I haven't even met her yet. HELP US TO PRAY for God's lead in this. I can't afford to step outside of His will again. PLEASE PLEASE pray with and for us.

Top 10 things that have not helped us to have a baby

10. Sex...
9. Reading books about how to have a baby...
8. Crying, bargaining, and begging...
7. Not drinking caffeine, not eating stinky cheese, etc...
6. Pillows under my butt...
5. Unsolicited advice from people who have no clue ...
4. Doctors ...
3. Lots of medical procedures ...
2. Having faith ...
and no 1: JUST RELAXING!

I had a moment...

...of sheer panic this morning. I awoke and suddenly realized I didn't know where it was.

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There's this thing that keeps me semi-sane, a reminder of a whimsical time in my life. A time when dreams came true and when my future looked sparkly and bright. And suddenly this morning I realized that I didn't know where it was...

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I spent most of my morning searching for it. Frantically pulling books off of the shelf, rifling through their pages and tossing the rejected books to the floor. Clambering up cupboards and pulling down dusty boxes that haven't seen the sunlight since we moved in.

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To my rescue, I came accross The Box. Not exactly the item I was searching for, but it calmed my frantically beating heart... No, it wasn't the neatly-folded printout of the scan that broke my heart all those months ago. The proof that Jodi-Lee actually existed. Proof that once-upon-a-time there really was a little life growing inside of me. But it would have to do.

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Seated on the edge of my bed, I carefully unpacked the box and allowed my fingers to run over the few items stashed inside of it.

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There aren't many things in that box, because, cautioned by others who fully expected the pregnancy to end, I didn't buy a nursery-full of little baby things. Instead, I reservedly allowed myself the luxury of meandering through the previously-dreaded-and-avoided baby departments ... you know - the places where women with dreamy expressions and the hands hugging their still-flat bellies hang out. You can easily pick out the first-time moms. That glow that overrides their morning-sickness and the warmth and happiness oozing from them as they pick up this item and that, happiness overriding indecision, pushing a trolley loaded with yellow, green and white items.

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I wasn't one of those women. My ecstacy was tempered by loving friends and family who cautioned me to just be careful, until the first trimester had passed.
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But I did buy a few things. And I'm so glad I did. A teeny tiny box of hand-picked things for the baby I would never get to hold in my arms. And this morning they rescued me.

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Jodi-lee really did exist!

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Technically schmecknically!

We're not trying to fall pregnant anymore. That's the technical bit.
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The schmecknical bit is that we are still... um... what's a word I can use on my blog that won't offend certain readers who think nobody on the planet has ever ... CONSUMMATED! That's the word.
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Back to my point. Infertility has a way of killing it. The fun part, I mean. It's all business in that department. It's all "ok we can't do it tonight, cos we must save the swimmers for tomorrow night, when I might actually be producing one un-scrambled egg, if we're lucky." And then, when it happens to fit the schedule and the basal body temperature is just right and all of the conditions are perfect and we actually get to... um... well... you know... well, then after the um... afterwards, I get to lie there, flat on my back for at least twenty minutes to give the buggers a chance to swim in the right direction. Problem is - those buggers could swim the midmar mile and still not find a good egg. See how much fun trying is? Soooo much fun.
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So now we've given up trying. What a relief! But oh so hard to "stop trying".
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Because, even though now it's all only about the fun again, and not about it being a procreation production line, there's still this teeny weeny leetle voice lurking at the back of my head that always whispers, wonders, no matter what mufflers and silencers I strap to it... Could this be the month?

Sisters are angels

...but I've not always felt that way. We are three years apart; me being the younger frivolous one. This made for many years of frustration on her part, especially through the "you're still a child and I'm not" years.
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I have so many excellent memories of the two of us as children. Running around on the farm. Her instigating me into mischief. She'd probably tell you it was more the other way round, with me being the little devil. But she'd be lying. (There are benefits to having my own blog that she can't edit!) She was the one picking up stompies behind the labourers on the farm. If I was old enough when she did it, I would probably have been the one ratting on her. Snigger snigger. Yes, I'm a goody-too-shoes.
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But she was the one who allowed me to crawl into her bed late at night when the boogey-man was hiding behind the curtains. And she was the one who would walk me down the long dark passageway to switch on the bathroom light when I'd need the loo. She's also the one who would switch off the light and run away as soon as I would be perched on the loo!
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Yes, we had lots of fun together.
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The teen years were tricky. As most teen years are. But here again, she was both the angel who would always rescue me and the terrorist who'd tease me to distraction.
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I'm so glad God saw it fit to give me to a mom who'd already had my sis. He knew we'd be the perfect chalk-n-cheese tjommies. I can't imagine my life without her.

Sleepless nights

I used to have them all the time. So I would read until the sandman had dumped the Namib into my eyes, click off my bedside lamp, then be miraculously wide awake again. Why can't that happen when you're trying to watch a really good show and you fall asleep just as the plot thickens, and awake just as the credits roll? Murphy's Law and all of that.
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But no. Insomnia comes with the territory. It's another one of those lovely by-products of being "uptight". A very good friend once told me that one of the reasons I couldn't fall pregnant or asleep was probably because I am tightly wound. Deeply offended and mortified at the time, every last hair on the back of my head rose in self-righteous indignation. As if it wasn't enough that I couldn't "just have faith" and I would be pregnant!
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However, and I've given this a lot of thought, so make sure you're seated for this one... There's something to be said for friends who speak the truth to you, even when they know they might hurt you, but care enough about you to know that you actually do need to hear it. Because sometimes, as much as we (by we, I actually mean I...) would rather have an enema than admit it, they are one hundred percent totally on-the-dot right.
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I'm a slow learner though. It's taken me all of three years to come to the point that I am finally willing to concede. Padda, you were on-the-dot, my friend. You were right and I am uptight. And that sux. Because even though I am now "just relaxing" and not even trying to fall pregnant anymore, and even though the sandman is still my guest every night, I am still sleepless.
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And I didn't even have a beloved* yesterday.
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*beloved's = my cappuccino's

I have done it!

Usually when I'm getting ready to sit and blog or write emails or chat online, I run and put some tea on the boil, so I can sit and relax and read and relish without getting halfway and thinking - Mmmmm.... I shoulda made myself a cuppa tea! And now that we've officially stopped fertility treatments, I am back on my beloved's: cappuccinno's by the minute :o) Not that I'm an addict, mind! No - never that! Just love the smell n the yumminess. Hell, I'd take it intravenously if it were possible! Mmmmm - not an addict? OK, maybe just a little. The only problem is, I like my cappuccino's and my tea's REALLY sweet, strong and white (like my men! haha). So it gets me in trouble with weigh less. Yes, believe it or not, I am on that horrible, icky, diet. But, seeing as I've gained... ahem ahem... gasp gasp... TWENTY kg's since I'm married... Ew ew! I'm becoming a right fatty! I squawk when I look at my wedding dress and realize I actually used to fit into that! No. Gross. I've become soooooo lazy and it's really only my fault I'm all dodgy podgy.
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So, here's what I did. On Friday after work, I went and paid the R750 registration fee to become a gym member (again! - my last membership expired because I neglected to use my membership more than 12 times a year! hahaha). But this time I was clever. See, I know myself well enough to know that I would rather feign life-threatening illness than actually go to gym. So, this time I booked myself a session with a personal trainer, which is actually going to cost me money. So now I have to go, because I'm meeting someone there who is going to take my money regardless of if I rock up or not. I may not be a mizer, but shucks - those personal trainers are EXPEEEEENSIVE! So, guess what I'm doing on Wednesday afternoon? Booo hooooo hoooooo.... I think I feel some angina coming on!

Why I love my hubby

There's a lot of baggage that comes with being infertile.

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One of the biggies is, of course, if your hubby has really good swimmers but your eggs are scrambled. Which basically means that, try as hard as you like (no pun intended! promise!), as often as you like, in whatever position you like, no amount of doing the deed will result in the much-hoped-for babe.

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You see, even when he's reassuring and comforting and all "lief, we're in this together, for better or worse", it's still really YOUR fault, not his, that your bloodline ends right here.

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And so you feel guilty.

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And like you've let him down.

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And eventually these feelings lead to thoughts that he would be so much better off with someone else. Someone with really good eggs (and nice-looking boobs too, while he's at it). And if you're like me, you start to sabotage things a bit, so that you're almost giving him a reason to want to dump you. See, you've already given up on yourself. Your whole being is so wrapped up in your inability to do something that comes oh-so-easily to everyone else. You've learnt to expect the worst from yourself. And because he chose you, is your partner in crime and all of that, you start expecting the worst from him too.

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It's almost as if you WANT him to punish you.

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And this is why I will love my hubby until my dying day.

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Because as much as I validate him feeling resentment towards me - he just refuses to behave that way. He just loves me. Every day. No matter how prickly I am. He just loves. Me! He smothers me with his acceptance. He loves ME! The Char he married. Even the Char I've become over the last six years. Heaven knows I've done nothing to deserve it. Quite the opposite.

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And that, my friends, is why I love my hubby.

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There's more to me than my bits

Yay! How much fun is blogging? I think I have discovered my calling. Thanks for all the emails I received after you'd had a look at my little blogspot, and especially for all the love you sent my way. Sooo many of you emailed me to let me know you care about me and wanted to make sure I know that you do and to reassure me that God will look after me and in the way that is best for me. Thanks a lot guys! I am feeling the love! And no, I'm not being glib. I really do appreciate it.

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You do know that the reason I'm blogging isn't a means of looking for sympathy, hey? Just checking. Because that really isn't my reason for publishing my thoughts. Although I must say, it's been excellent for my feel-good-barometer! haha. Why I'm blogging is really more about a need to let it "all hang out" instead of bottling up my feelings about this part of my life. I'm inviting you all along for the ride, because too many times I find myself smiling brightly and putting on my happy face, when beneath that mask lurks many hurting, hard and dark thoughts.

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But ALSO, and more importantly, I want to regain a sense of normalcy to my life. To rediscover the other parts of who I am. For too long Char has lain dormant, hibernating within my neatly constructed cocoon labelled Infertile. But, I am SO READY to be just Char again. Not Char, the one who can't have kids. Not Char, on hormones and turning into dragon woman. Not Char, the bitter resentful one who you can't talk about children in front of. Nor Char the prickly pear who you can't love. Just Char.

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Because there is so much more to me than my scrambled eggs.

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You know it, and that's why you've hung in there with me.

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Thanks for holding me up and for taking the weight off my cramping hands!

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P.S. Do you guys find the black background and light text hurts your eyes? If so, lemme know and I'll think about changing it. Haha. I quite like the way it looks.

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P.P.S. Feel free to leave your comments here. I like the emails, but there are plenty others who would benefit from your comments too. Thanks.