The verdict

I didn't realise how nervous I was about the results of my pregnancy loss tests until I was actually in the waiting room yesterday. I had been telling people all week that I don't know what is better, to hear that there is something (very easily fixable) wrong and we will do this, this and this to fix you asap, or to hear that there is nothing wrong so we can't help you. Then when I was sitting trying to read a book with trembling hands and thoughts zooming at a million miles, waiting for the professor to call my name, I had sudden clarity: it is so much better to hear that there is nothing wrong. Silly to think otherwise, really.

Luckily, after a pretty short wait and a brief reading of my results (which felt like an eternity), the professor said in his quiet, deliberate, monotone way 'The tests show that there is no medical reason to expect that you will not have the family that you desire, sooner rather than later.'.

That means everything is ok, right?

After quite a few more drill-down-to-specifics kinda questions from me he came just a tad short of saying 'just go home and make a baby, lady'. He said that my antibody and hormone levels were 'normal' and whilst he can not tell me that he is 100% confident that our next conception will result in a real live baby, we are entering in to it with the same odds as the rest of the population (approx 3:4).

Good news, right? Then why did I not stop crying for a long time once I made it to the privacy of my car?

I realised that these tests for me were as much a snapshot into what to expect in the future as they were an insight into our recent pregnancy losses. So I cried for Turtledove who was to be born in the next fortnight. And I cried for Muscles who we were so hopeful for. I cried with relief because the results did not say that that my body had actually caused a healthy baby to be miscarried. And I cried because chances are they were just not perfect enough to be born.

Our bodies are amazing the way they know that this potential child is just not healthy enough for this world. But I still cried, because as genetically imperfect as they were, I would have loved them anyway. I would have.

Happy 100!

Welcome to my 100th post!

At different at different stages this year I may have stopped to think about what I would use my 100th post for:

For a few weeks of the year I may have thought I would use it to say that I am in my final month of pregnancy (with Turtledove) and that I can not wait to not be pregnant and to hold this baby in my arms.

Then later in the year I thought I might use my 100th post to announce that I am entering my third trimester (with Muscles) and am enjoying slowing down and savouring my time as Mummy to just one child.

Once again, of course my plans were squashed and I thought I may use my 100th post to announce the results of my specialist tests which are due this Friday.

But, nah. I decided why wait. I'll use my 100th post to talk about the fun things in life: wees and poos. You see, toilet training has begun in the Lemoncake household. I am about to join the ranks of parents whose every waking moment is centred around the potty. Although Champ has been ready for the potty for some time I bidded my time until summer. Guess what? It's December 1st. We are saying bye-bye to nappies and hello to the world of potties, adorable jocks and loads of accidents, spills and tears.

I'll let you know how we go. So far we have had great success (lots of 'hits' in the potty) and lots of extra washing (lots of 'misses' in front of the tv/toys/something more interesting than bladder movements).

Tink-oo

Whilst we do not celebrate Thanksgiving in Australia, I have read a number of your posts regarding what you are grateful for and I have watched enough Hollywood movies to have a general idea of what Thanksgiving is all about (tell me, do all children really dress up on stage for a school pageant which provides the opportunity for their parents to have a major life realisation and save their marriage or advert some major catastrophe or is that just the movies?).

Anyway, I hope that what I am grateful for is obvious. I am grateful for my loving husband Cowboy, my adorable chubby cheeked son Champ and for all of my family and friends. Rather than just the obligatory thankfulness post I'll ask a question about offering thanks.

What I wondered is if a 'thank you' get diminished because the thanker repeats 'tink-oo, tink-oo, tink-ooooooo, Mummia!' until the thankee says 'you're welcome, what lovely manners, Champ.'?

I am grateful for Champs good manners, but must I tell him so everytime I pass him his water bottle and receive thanks in return?!

One year

Yesterday was the first anniversary of my Nan's passing. I remembered it as I was taking my pre-natal vitamin. It was the day of her funeral that I received the delivery of my first box of pre-natal vitamins since I had had Champ. That means it has almost been a year since I decided that I would soon like to expand our family.

A year is a long time and yet not. It has passed without me realising it and yet has been a heartbreakingly long year at times.

When I made the decision to hold off from TTC until our issues are fully investigated I thought that knowing that it would be at least until the new year would make it easier as I wouldn't think about it as much. I was wrong.

These last few weeks I have been plagued with longing to be pregnant again. Longing for a baby. Far from giving me a TTC break, this waiting has brought the issue into the forefront of my every waking moment.

I am almost in my next fertile window. It is almost 2 weeks until our next appointment and that seems an eternity.

I am almost in my next fertile window. And yet I wait.

Not all doom and gloom

Just to prove I am not all doom and gloom while waiting to be (hopefully) given the all clear to TTC: Merry Christmas to all from Champ!

(I tried to upload a video of Champ playing his little guitar and singing 'Christmas song' and 'Jingle Bells' but it took hours and still failed. I figured my computer skills were more equipped for photo uploads.)


I managed to score a smiling toddler Santa photo through hard work and perseverance. I know that the screaming toddler Santa photos are very cute, but I was after the elusive happy face.

We visited Santa from the moment he set up shop and the first visit I didn't even ask Champ if he wanted to cuddle Santa. I just showed him Santa, we both waved to him; all the while Champ was saying 'No, bye-bye Santa. Bye bye.' Then after a while of waving we both went up to say hello. Mummy shook Santa's hand to show Champ that he was an all round nice guy that Mummy trusts.

Santa gave Champ a little gift and I asked Champ to shake Santa's hand. That he figured he could manage. For the rest of the week all I heard were little stories about 'Shake Santa hand'.

Once I figure he had Santa sorted as a nice guy I asked if he wanted to go back to the shops and give Santa a cuddle. 'Oh yeah, Santa cuddle, shake Santa hand'. So we did. And he did. Getting to ring Santa's bell was the cherry on the cake that scored the smile. Now I keep hearing stories about 'Santa, ring bell.'