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The Instagram Project

It’s a new year and I’ve beenĀ on maternity leave for just over 3 weeks. The Little Jedi’s due date is in a couple of days. Everything is going well although I don’t think he is in any rush to come out. I’m going to take that as a compliment.

We started the year off perfectly with a dip in the ocean….

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The Wifey moved into her new office and ourĀ Little Jedi officially became a North Melbourne Kangaroos member (you have to brainwash them young).

The labour bag is packed, the car seats are installed and his nursery is complete.

I’ve been cooking dinners in bulk and the fridge and pantry have been cleaned out and reorganised. The nesting phase has truly settled in.

Are we excited to meet our Little Jedi?

Of course!

Are we ready?

As ready as we’ll ever be!

Am I terrified?

ABSOLUTELY!

For those of you that don’t know, The Wifey has been documenting our ivf journey. Named, “Our Story To Make You”, you can see the teaser trailer here. Our journey to a positive pregnancy had not been an easy one so grab a tissue.

Until the final product is complete we decided to start an Instagram account of the same name.

Giving ourselves a “photo a day” challenge, The Wifey shoots the images while I write a story to accompany it. It might be a journal entry, letter to our son or a random story. Sometimes there will be an image explaining our backstory.

Hopefully we can keep it up.

For now, it’s all about the beach ball that is my belly….

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The Baby Expo

I had been dreading this day for weeks!

Even more so after The Breakdown.

I work for a company that manufactures and sells TENS machines.

TENS = Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulators (Try saying THAT 10 times fast!)

In a nutshell, they are little, electronic pain relief devices.

One machine is designed for pregnancy and so over the weekend The Company had a stall at a baby expo in town.

It made sense that The Company would be involved. I just didn’t want to go.

After the year I’ve had, the thought of being surrounded by pregnant women, babies, and baby products, made my stomach turn.

Knowing that I’d have to spend a whole day talking to pregnant women about their impending labour and life with a newborn, also made my stomach turn.

I didn’t know how I was going to cope.

I was afraid of breaking down in front of a customer.

I was afraid of embarrassing myself.

The day arrived.

I stood at our stall surrounded by other stalls promoting baby products.

I watched pram after pram stroll by. Fathers and mothers cradled their newborns in their arms.

Mothers-to-be rubbed their bellies in front of me.

And I talked.

And talked.

And talked.

Constantly repeating the same spiel to pregnant woman after pregnant woman about how our products would assist them.

My back ached. My feet were throbbing and my throat felt raw.

It was a very….VERY….long day.

But, at the end of it all, I was actually ok.

Not once did I well up, feel a lump in my throat or my stomach drop.

Now and again, I’d think if only. That’s completely understandable.

But at the end of it all I was fine.

I dealt with the situation.

I had passed the test.

It felt good.

It felt positive.


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The Prequel To “The Day Just For Me”

It’s been just over a week since The Breakdown.

I’ve booked in the see a therapist next week. The thought is daunting but I know it’s a must if I’m going to find ME again.

We joined the local gym. I’ve exercised nearly every day – boxing, swimming, walking and yoga.

Tonight we did a class that utilised resistance bands. My glutes and abs didn’t know what hit them.

I even wiped the dust off my bike, pumped up the tyres and rode to work earlier in the week.

I looked into the writing mentorship that I’m applying for – updated my literary CV (which didn’t take long) and started working on a couple of 300 word statements.

My head felt a lot clearer, I was looking at things positively.

I knew I still had a long way to go but after The Breakdown, I knew I was headed in the right direction.

That was until The Wifey spoke to me last night.

We were going to try another transfer in November without telling anybody. I was giving myself a month to sort my shit out and get my act together. I felt this was achievable. The Wifey did not.

She didn’t think it was enough time for me. That I wouldn’t be able to handle another negative so soon. That there is a part of me that is missing and I need to find me again. That I’ve spent this whole year consumed by ivf and trying to make a baby that I’ve lost sight of myself and haven’t done anything that was just about me. She’s afraid of what will happen to us if we have another negative. She can’t handle the stress of dealing with me.

It was hard for me to listen to. I broke down again….which proved, once again, that The Wifey was right.

I wouldn’t be ready in a month’s time.

The thought of going to work the next day made me cringe. I just wanted a day to myself.

So I decided I’d do just that.

I never wagged school (being a Miss Goodie-Two-Shoes and a bad liar made sure of that) so I asked my boss if I could take the day off. I’m fortunate that he is so understanding.

I felt so relieved.

I reset my alarm. I already knew how I wanted to spend “The day just for me”.

First, I’d go for a swim.

Then I’d head into the city, treat myself to a burger and beer, see the Dreamworks Animation exhibition, then head to the State Library to write.

It would be the perfect day just for me. It would be another step in the right direction