Gimme a B! Gimme an F! Gimme a P? What does it spell? 7 weeks of paranoia!

I'm not proud of the fact I haven't posted in a long time, but am proud of what I have achieved in the last 6 months.

I've been hitting the gym and shed 15 kilos and never looked or felt better :)

I finished the first semester of my last year of uni and completed it with a C, D and HD :)

I'm still married and the good days are outweighing the bad days :P

Last night though I had the oddest compulsion to do a pregnancy test. Now if I'd have told C before I did he'd have laughed and said there was no way I could be up the duff given the lack of excitement in the bedroom in the last month and I'd have agreed!

Still something certainly gave me the impression it was worth a shot and before the stick even finished being dipped both lines appeared.

I can't say I'm excited because after 6 miscarriages that kind of joy is impossible. I can say that I've worked my hardest to fight this PCOS and *if* that was responsible for my recurrent miscarriages then surely, SURELY this time I might, just maybe, get a sticky.

Doctors appointment next week, at which I will request bloods and book a scan for 7 week mark. No fucking around this time. (Not even going to bother excusing my language there because if I saw you on the street, that's exactly what would come out of my mouth at a time like this!)

I'm musing at the hilarity in all this for a few reasons. Firstly, we booked a holiday for 12 days to Bali in December. We postponed attempting to TTC until then, but of course aren't using any protection. I see the reverse psychology fairies have paid me a visit and the irony suggests that this time I won't miscarry and will spend 12 days in Bali unable to enjoy cheap, poolside cocktails. Not that I'd prefer that to a baby, you understand - just sayin'!

If I usually start to bleed and/or cramp my past history usually tells me it'll happen in the next 2 weeks so until then I'm going to bury my head deep into my thrilling taxation text books and hope it passes without me even noticing.

I don't believe in God, but if I did I'd be praying my ass off right now.

P-COS I Can!

I suppose the internal ultrasound at my fertility specialist on Friday was fairly consistant. My ovaries looked like a sick advertisement for malteasers with the amount of cysts I saw littering the the screen. Bleh.

Upon arriving at the appointment Dr Love (hilarious irony that he is an IVF and fertility doctor) explained that my blood test results showed elevated levels of testosterone. (Which C and I both laughed at, no suprise there!) This indicated to him that it was highly likely I had PCOS, which.. I did. 

So basically he told me to lose some weight, get exercising, and cut out the alcohol and bad foods due to the medication he would be putting me on. Yes that's right my loyal viewers, Metformin does not agree with my love of the drink, nor my secret shame for cheese and bacon balls and lamingtons. Alas.

Actually when I look at the big picture, its quite humorous that my new years resolutions are actually a requirement for the next year or so if I ever want to be blessed with another child, and want to avoid Type II Diabetes. I must have seen this whole thing coming, woo hoo, sign me up for medium 2! :P

I started taking the met last night and today have felt like I just wanted to sleep all day. Thankfully its gotten better this afternoon, and by all "Dr Googling" reports the side effects should lessen within a week. Lets hope so as I have no intention of not continuing my onslaught of the gym, attending every class they run and monopolising their time, mwahahhahaahah!!!

I had my last drink-a-thon out with my dear (and oh so camp) friend Josh on Friday night and suffice to say the hangover I received is enough to make me want to give the drink up anyway. Especially when they were yager-bombs that had me dancing to "it's raining men" at 2am. Lordy lordy......

So its Metformin now, and await the arrive of the elusive 'Aunt Flo' which hasn't been around since December. Then hopefully I can get this disease under control (all the while coming out the other end with an unbelievably hot body :P ) and then make the decision to TTC another co-sleeping cutie.

I'm A Junkie.

A Gym Junkie that is!

I finally joined and got my ass down there yesterday for a Pump class and was shocked and amazed with how much I enjoyed it. Why was I so scared to go for a week after I joined! Did I fear I would run in to WorkOut Barbie down there in her Nike co-ordinates and full face of makeup busting her size 8 butt on the X-Trainer without breaking a sweat?

Probably.

Instead I was greeted by a class of only 4 ladies, 2 of whom were over 50. The other was a very chatty young girl who offered to be my partner in todays Boxercise class! No snobbery to be seen! The instructor was a 39 year old lady who'd had 2 kids - fantastic - my kind of place. :P

So after attending Pump last night I decided (although hardly able to walk!) that I would attend Boxercise at 9am this morning. I gritted my teeth, put C in the creche and got busy. Well kind of. I was late it seemed so I had no partner and had to workout with the instructor's helper, which suited me just fine. Who would have thought it'd be so much fun pretending to utterly maim and destroy someone with flykicks and uppercuts - not I!

On the 'not as enjoyable' side C (C and C are my husband and daughter's first initial - I know which one I'm talking about and when damnit! Figure it out people!!) decided to join on the cheap deal as well. And this is when I've realised that our relationship has definitely changed since *said incident*. Whereas in the past I'd have been overjoyed that we'd be doing this together, now I feel suffocated and resentful. I wanted the gym to be my time away, I didn't want to go there knowing he would also be going there. What's mine is now ours it seems! Why do I feel like all these changed feelings are the prelude to something? Why can't I just get over it, even when I want to?

Ahh well, such is life. (In the words of my favourite football players stomach tattoo.)

Just to cheer myself up I think I'll post a pic of my daughter in this post - she's so happy all the time.

Omen - No, not the Damien kind!

I almost believe in omens today.

I've been failing at nearly all my resolutions, plodding along half heartedly. I've been trying.. but not as hard as I could be. Unfortunately doing everything at a 30% rate does not make for success in even one area!

I came home today from taking my daughter to the park, feeling rather unmotivated about life in general and there in my mailbox the most fabulous thing! An offer at my local Gym for full membership for only $9.95 a week! Praise Jeebus! Now all my detrimental thoughts about wanting to put myself first this year and be willing to do so but unable to afford it have been washed away. 

I'm off for a meeting with the owner of the gym tonight and I am so excited, I finally feel as though I might actually get out of the house for a few hours a week child and husband free, albeit to pay someone else to torture me with physical tests. Bring it on I say! Has to beat scrubbing vegemite off a 2.5 year old after finding her in the entire jar when I turn my back for a minute.

Gym membership is coming at a welcome time. My appointment with the fertility specialist is tomorrow and I am so nervous and depressed. But also kinda hopeful. I don't want to get my hopes up that these guys will be able to find the reason for the disgraceful amount of miscarriages I've had, but I have to believe in something.

I don't know where to begin with mine and C's relationship - he is really trying but I think I'm just so stressed and resentful that I am really throwing spanners if not the whole tool kit in the works. I'm not sure what I can do about that at the moment other than hope that we are doing the right thing trying to bring another child in to this marriage, even though some of the wheels often feel like the ones on those damn shopping trolleys I always seem to get.