Saturday, 7 April 2012
Tuesday, 3 April 2012
In repair
I am grieving. Our last IUI and the four follicles it produced failed. 12 days post insemination and the fanny blowout came thick and fast. No prior warning, no cramping, no insomnia, just out of the blue it was there. There was no chance of it being implant bleeding, for it was just too darn heavy and too long. Our last chance was over!
Of course, I pretended I was ok; like I was expecting this, which I was to some degree, and that it was no big deal. But it is! It's a very big deal. Given all the opportunities my body had to embrace medications, produce eggs and then create a baby, it still couldn't. Our doc says it's related to the level of stress in our lives. I laughed in his face, because to that I say a big fat "DERRR!". I went to work, tried to keep myself together, and headed home at 11.30pm to see my beloved Husband for the first time all day. He took one look at me and wrapped his big, warm arms around me. I was gone. The pain came flowing out in a wave of tears. "So we don't win this one?" he asked me. I buried my face deeper in his shoulder and let it all go.
So, as my Husband likes to say, we're now one of "those couples". Yep, we are! We are one of those IVF couples. Well, we will be when we start, which won't be for a while as we're currently on a baby-hiatus, while he changes jobs, I sort my head out, and we both hit our refresh buttons.
I am grieving. I am grieving my body's inability to do what I want it to. I am grieving lost time. I am grieving so many negative tests. I am grieving the fact that IVF will cost us a lot of money, of which we don't have. I am grieving. But I will get there! Grieving is a process. I am not broken. It is ok to not be ok for a while. I may look down and out, but inside I am rallying, slowly mind you. I don't know how long it'll take, but we will both get there!
I want to thank each of you who read my blog and reply with your lovely messages, hugs and love. We are not alone and for that I am very thankful. Your experiences give me strength that when we're ready we can do this! It's not about how you get there, it's about the end result, a baby; a family! You are all wonderfully treasured. I am in repair!
Of course, I pretended I was ok; like I was expecting this, which I was to some degree, and that it was no big deal. But it is! It's a very big deal. Given all the opportunities my body had to embrace medications, produce eggs and then create a baby, it still couldn't. Our doc says it's related to the level of stress in our lives. I laughed in his face, because to that I say a big fat "DERRR!". I went to work, tried to keep myself together, and headed home at 11.30pm to see my beloved Husband for the first time all day. He took one look at me and wrapped his big, warm arms around me. I was gone. The pain came flowing out in a wave of tears. "So we don't win this one?" he asked me. I buried my face deeper in his shoulder and let it all go.
So, as my Husband likes to say, we're now one of "those couples". Yep, we are! We are one of those IVF couples. Well, we will be when we start, which won't be for a while as we're currently on a baby-hiatus, while he changes jobs, I sort my head out, and we both hit our refresh buttons.
I am grieving. I am grieving my body's inability to do what I want it to. I am grieving lost time. I am grieving so many negative tests. I am grieving the fact that IVF will cost us a lot of money, of which we don't have. I am grieving. But I will get there! Grieving is a process. I am not broken. It is ok to not be ok for a while. I may look down and out, but inside I am rallying, slowly mind you. I don't know how long it'll take, but we will both get there!
Sunday, 25 March 2012
A belly full of eggs and a head full of doubt
I have started writing this blog about five times over the last week or so. I have deleted parts over and over again trying to put my thoughts into the right words. I have read it and felt ashamed for being so self-centered, depressed that the words I read are as sad as my thoughts, mad because I want to not have the experience behind the story. So I have edited it to the following. This blog isn't written for sympathy, nor is it written for your judgement. It is simply written in truth, and because of that, I know that we can not be alone in our thoughts, actions, or emotions. If you don't have anything constructive to say, don't say it, if you can relate to me, please do...
This is our "last chance" IUI. So basically, we're up to attempt three at this IUI process and if this one doesn't work the chances of it ever working are hugely diminished. If this one doesn't work then we have one option left, IVF. We knew this time might come. It's something we were told we might have to expect, from the day we were told I had PCOS. Yet, here it is, those three little letters: I.V.F. Which are burnt into our minds like giant, fluorescent lights in the night sky. We close our eyes and there it is. We open our mouths to talk and there it is again. We try NOT to the think about it, but there it is still. IVF!! We get it IVF; your approach is imminent!
And I think because we can feel IVF breathing down our necks, this IUI cycle is destined to fail. It feels as awful to say as it makes me feel to write the words, but there is no part of this cycle that feels positive. We "ummed and arrred" and debated heatedly for days prior to insemination day, even with the news that we had four big, fat follicles. Mostly because we haven't really had time alone together in about six weeks (my shitty work roster and Hubby's other commitments), and IUI just felt like a big inconvenience to us both. But, ultimately we decided that we wouldn't give up our chance of utilising the insemination process, in case we wouldn't get to see each other again during my fertile days. Hubby worked the day of the insem. and so I attended the clinic on my own for the first time. It all felt very unusual and surreal to be doing this alone, especially given the circumstances.
At the end of the process I lay on the table, waiting for my 15minutes "warming" to be over so I could pay the receptionist and sulk home. Fortunately my amazing doctor picked up on my low mood, leaned over and gave me a hearty arm rub and offered to wait with me, despite there being a waiting room full of pregnant women anxious for their appointments. I gratefully declined and instead used my time alone to think. This is not how I want my children to come into the world. I do not want to believe it is easier to expect the worse, than to believe in miracles. We are not those people. We have waited 18months so far for our miracle. It has been 18months of trials, tears, experimentation, disappointments, unexpected surprises, lots of friends and family having babies, and so much WAITING!! And to be honest, we would go through it all again if we had to. But right now, it's all too much. I WANT this IUI cycle to work. I am desperate for it to work. I don't want to think negatively about the possibilities that this insemination may bring. But it's all I can do at the moment. Our brains are so committed to preparing us for IVF that we have totally disregarded this cycle as anything but a time-killer, one final stab in the dark. And that in itself is enough to make us realise that we have had enough for a while.
IVF is such a huge commitment in so many ways. If this is your belief too (and I would have to think that for most IVFers it would have to be in some way) that life begins at conception, than IVF is so much more than just me and my husband deciding to have a baby right now. It's about the creation of life for any and all of our future children. We are making a decision to create embryos which will hopefully be viable with life. We are creating lives! We are transferring those embryos to my uterus and praying like crazy to God that they implant, grow and be healthy. My brain boggles at that in so many ways!! If those cycles don't work, we have lost a life! This is something we talk about so often now, its a more common subject than 'honey, we need to buy bread'. We would like to have four children, but in order to give birth to four children, how many embryos do we create? How many eggs do we harvest? What if they all fertilise, and what if none of them do? How could we possibly cope with more bad new at the moment?
We don't have the answer to any of those questions? We have spoken to friends, family, doctors, and still we draw a blank. We are not ready. We need more time. And so, in our jumbled world of overwhelming questions and choices we have made one very simple one. It is time to stop. Not permanently. But for no indicated time frame at this point. It is time to collect ourselves. Clear our heads. Reconnect as a couple and not just try-hard infertiles. It is time to think about something other than 28 day cycles, temperature charting, needles, symptoms, timed sex, blah blah blah. It is time to let go of the reigns we have been gripping so tightly for the last year and a half (or the majority of our marriage!).
Trust me. I say this answer was simple one, but it was very difficult one to choose. The idea still makes me feel anxious, sick to my stomach. Something deep inside me is telling me not to waste more time (probably my uterus), and something else is telling that voice to shut to hell up for a while. I walk into work on a daily basis, where a number of the staff are now pregnant and glowing with their round bellies resting against their uniform blouses, and my anxiety kicks up a notch. I want that to be me. I want to be telling the world we're having a baby. But I'm not, and won't be for some time to go. So I deep breathe, rest my head on tables to lower my pulse and ease the red flush in my cheeks, and say prayer under my breath. That is all the energy I have left for. So I know, it is time to stop for a while. I want to be with my husband. I want us to smile together again. I don't want life to be a timeline of scan dates and negative pregnancy tests. I want to feel the warmth and wholeness that our love brings to life, build a fortress around it and prepare for the next unknown.
Until then, I pray that there IS a chance for our four little follies. I pray that even if we don't know they can make it, someone else does. I pray for calm.
This is our "last chance" IUI. So basically, we're up to attempt three at this IUI process and if this one doesn't work the chances of it ever working are hugely diminished. If this one doesn't work then we have one option left, IVF. We knew this time might come. It's something we were told we might have to expect, from the day we were told I had PCOS. Yet, here it is, those three little letters: I.V.F. Which are burnt into our minds like giant, fluorescent lights in the night sky. We close our eyes and there it is. We open our mouths to talk and there it is again. We try NOT to the think about it, but there it is still. IVF!! We get it IVF; your approach is imminent!
And I think because we can feel IVF breathing down our necks, this IUI cycle is destined to fail. It feels as awful to say as it makes me feel to write the words, but there is no part of this cycle that feels positive. We "ummed and arrred" and debated heatedly for days prior to insemination day, even with the news that we had four big, fat follicles. Mostly because we haven't really had time alone together in about six weeks (my shitty work roster and Hubby's other commitments), and IUI just felt like a big inconvenience to us both. But, ultimately we decided that we wouldn't give up our chance of utilising the insemination process, in case we wouldn't get to see each other again during my fertile days. Hubby worked the day of the insem. and so I attended the clinic on my own for the first time. It all felt very unusual and surreal to be doing this alone, especially given the circumstances.
At the end of the process I lay on the table, waiting for my 15minutes "warming" to be over so I could pay the receptionist and sulk home. Fortunately my amazing doctor picked up on my low mood, leaned over and gave me a hearty arm rub and offered to wait with me, despite there being a waiting room full of pregnant women anxious for their appointments. I gratefully declined and instead used my time alone to think. This is not how I want my children to come into the world. I do not want to believe it is easier to expect the worse, than to believe in miracles. We are not those people. We have waited 18months so far for our miracle. It has been 18months of trials, tears, experimentation, disappointments, unexpected surprises, lots of friends and family having babies, and so much WAITING!! And to be honest, we would go through it all again if we had to. But right now, it's all too much. I WANT this IUI cycle to work. I am desperate for it to work. I don't want to think negatively about the possibilities that this insemination may bring. But it's all I can do at the moment. Our brains are so committed to preparing us for IVF that we have totally disregarded this cycle as anything but a time-killer, one final stab in the dark. And that in itself is enough to make us realise that we have had enough for a while.
IVF is such a huge commitment in so many ways. If this is your belief too (and I would have to think that for most IVFers it would have to be in some way) that life begins at conception, than IVF is so much more than just me and my husband deciding to have a baby right now. It's about the creation of life for any and all of our future children. We are making a decision to create embryos which will hopefully be viable with life. We are creating lives! We are transferring those embryos to my uterus and praying like crazy to God that they implant, grow and be healthy. My brain boggles at that in so many ways!! If those cycles don't work, we have lost a life! This is something we talk about so often now, its a more common subject than 'honey, we need to buy bread'. We would like to have four children, but in order to give birth to four children, how many embryos do we create? How many eggs do we harvest? What if they all fertilise, and what if none of them do? How could we possibly cope with more bad new at the moment?
We don't have the answer to any of those questions? We have spoken to friends, family, doctors, and still we draw a blank. We are not ready. We need more time. And so, in our jumbled world of overwhelming questions and choices we have made one very simple one. It is time to stop. Not permanently. But for no indicated time frame at this point. It is time to collect ourselves. Clear our heads. Reconnect as a couple and not just try-hard infertiles. It is time to think about something other than 28 day cycles, temperature charting, needles, symptoms, timed sex, blah blah blah. It is time to let go of the reigns we have been gripping so tightly for the last year and a half (or the majority of our marriage!).
Trust me. I say this answer was simple one, but it was very difficult one to choose. The idea still makes me feel anxious, sick to my stomach. Something deep inside me is telling me not to waste more time (probably my uterus), and something else is telling that voice to shut to hell up for a while. I walk into work on a daily basis, where a number of the staff are now pregnant and glowing with their round bellies resting against their uniform blouses, and my anxiety kicks up a notch. I want that to be me. I want to be telling the world we're having a baby. But I'm not, and won't be for some time to go. So I deep breathe, rest my head on tables to lower my pulse and ease the red flush in my cheeks, and say prayer under my breath. That is all the energy I have left for. So I know, it is time to stop for a while. I want to be with my husband. I want us to smile together again. I don't want life to be a timeline of scan dates and negative pregnancy tests. I want to feel the warmth and wholeness that our love brings to life, build a fortress around it and prepare for the next unknown.
Until then, I pray that there IS a chance for our four little follies. I pray that even if we don't know they can make it, someone else does. I pray for calm.
But I will sing of your strength,
in the morning I will sing of your love;
in the morning I will sing of your love;
for you are my fortress,
my refuge in times of trouble.
my refuge in times of trouble.
{Psalm 59:16}
Friday, 2 March 2012
Living in the shadows
I saw this poster on Pinterest the other day and I thought, "Gee, how many times have I used that excuse in the past 18 months?" I haven't personally written a post in about three or four weeks about what's been happening because I don't like to focus on the negative, or bombard people with my sadness. I find it's really hard to talk to other infertiles about how I'm struggling, because I know that they have their own sad story, their own bad days, weeks, months... So I have delayed writing about what's been happening, but I am now at a point where I need to debrief, and I know some of you are genuinely interested in where we are at, no matter the circumstances.
Our first IUI cycle was everything it was supposed to be; the injections were scary at first, but we got used to them, I got braver and stopped flinching every single time, Hubby took over on days we were home together, and at the end of seven days, we had three big, fat, glorious follicles. Hubby's sample was off-the-charts great, and our doc was excited about our chances. Everything seemed to be going to plan.
We got to the end of the first week of the waiting period with no cramps, no spotting, big, sore boobs and a real sense of hope. 10 days past, still looking good. We started feeling really confident. We had three follicles, surely we'd have a great shot at this working first time around. I woke super early on day 12 post ovulation to what we affectionately like to call a 'fanny blowout'. You know, those days on your period where your flow is so darn heavy, and you feel like your whole body could split down the middle from the monster cramps. Obviously 12 days is so close, and yet still so far away from the end of the wait.
We've lost good cycles before. We've been so convinced something is working, only to be disappointed before, too. But this time it felt 100% more personal, more devastating, harder to reconcile. If we couldn't fertilize three eggs, how would we ever get pregnant? I have learned over the past 18 months to wait until Hubby is out of the house before I have my big cry. My big cry is usually loud, uncontrollable sobbing, with lots of face scrunching, bed punching and a LOT of swearing. I don't wait til he's gone because I'm vain and I don't want him to see my snot face. I wait til he's gone so that he doesn't see and hear how much this really tears me up inside. I literally feel, at the end of a failed cycle, like a part of me rips down the middle. The emotional pain is accompanied by the physical pain of cramping and bleeding, in an all-encompassing body blow.
Hubby, on the other hand, expresses his sadness and disappointment with a verbal outburst of hilarious profanities. But this time it was different. For only the third time in our relationship, I saw him cry. Things had become so low in our home, that even my man of steel couldn't hold it in anymore. There were no words to make it better, no hopeful little comments about the next cycle being better, absolutely nothing, that could make us feel better.
Cycle two feels like it came and went so quickly, and without much fuss. By the end of injection week I was feeling a bit better about the whole situation. I was ready for the folli scan, and ready to get onto the next IUI transfer. But the scan left us just as disappointed. Instead of more big, fat follies, we had one tiny one. We were sent home for more injections and the wait for it to grow. Secondary scanning showed our folli at 2cm and ready to pop - thank goodness. We went ahead with the IUI. Hubby called this cycle 'the little egg that could'.
Over the next seven days we spoke about not getting our hopes up, not getting ahead of ourselves, and hopefully preventing the giant let down if it didn't take. That wasn't too hard to do as both our work schedules had us working opposite shifts. I was away in the evening, he was away in the morning. We saw each other for about an hour a day, late at night, and only spoke briefly about if I had any symptoms. At about days six and seven post IUI, I got quite sick. I was hugely lethargic, nauseated to the point of vomiting (which I can't usually do), and crazy dizzy. On a whim on day eight I decided to pee on a pregnancy test, 'just in case'. It was POSITIVE! Of course, I freaked out! I screaming into Hubby, who looked at me like I was a crazy person, then took the test from my hand. With a slight smile he quickly told me not to get too excited. I knew he was right. But there it was, a beautiful, if not extremely faint, second line. Four days later, I started bleeding. My doc says it probably was a very late release from the hcg in the trigger shot, or a false positive. He said not to read too much into it, and that it was probably too early to pick up natural hcg levels anyway.
So here we are!! This is us today. I have restarted my shots, and we rescan in a week. And cross our fingers again. I feel better already having got that lot off my chest. I woke today, 'fanny blowout' in process, unable to sleep, and in a FOUL mood. I am trying to keep busy in order to prevent that overwhelming urge to punch something, scream, cry and spin into a panic attack. This cycle failure brings with it two underlying milestones: we are now 18 months into our baby struggle, and as it is now March, our chances of having a baby before yet another Christmas, are becoming slimmer by the day. (Even just writing it down brings my pulse up to a frantic 100 beats a minute, I can feel the sweat form across my forehead and I want to curl up into a ball.)
Realistically, we have decided that we have low expectations of this third, and final, IUI cycle. Sadly, we now live in a reality where expecting to fail is easier to cope with, than expecting to be successful. Sarcastically, Hubby's coined a new favourite catchphrase: "Aim for the ground, it's easier to hit!" And you know what they say about things said sarcasm!
How did we get here? When did the skies become so grey? When did hope become so difficult to maintain? When did we stop saying "We can't wait" and start saying "Let's just get through this"? When will we stop living in the shadow of what's already happened and start living for the possibility of what may come?
Monday, 27 February 2012
Guest Blog - When does enough feel like enough?
My husband and I married in 2005, and I have been off birth control pills since 2008. Based on my pre-Pill irregular cycles and some health problems of my husband, I worried that it would take us awhile to conceive. But 4 years, I didn't imagine that.
We have gone through a lot of the basics that many trying to conceive couples do: temperature-taking (I admit, I was not good at keeping up with that), ovulation predictor kits, timed intercourse, and then later Clomid and Femara with timed intercourse. That was followed by 1 ICI and 4 IUIs, all with Clomid, and all failures. In fact, I have never, ever had a positive pregnancy test in all our years of TTC.
I have a probable PCOS diagnosis. In January I had a laparoscopy and hysteroscopy. My doctor put dye through my tubes and also did a D&C to check and clean out any old lining. All appeared to be well. You know, except for the fact that it isn't. Something still isn't right.
Things that keep me up at night (if not literally then figuratively):
Did we wait too long to start trying? Are certain medications I need to take part of the problem? With our modest financial means, do we even have a chance at figuring out and solving our problem(s)? And more recently, when is enough, enough?
I know there are people who have been trying for years longer than us, they have gone through more invasive procedures, spent more money. Everyone has a breaking point, either mentally, physically or financially, and I'm afraid I'm starting to find mine. We recently went to see a reproductive endocrinologist for a consultation, and now that we have taken that step, I feel myself pulling back. The tests he's ordered are going to hurt us financially. Will we even be able to afford whatever treatment option is offered to us based on the results? And, even more disturbing to me is that I'm thinking, will I even want to go through with the procedure?
That's right, am I really thinking about giving up? After all this, what's another insemination, or pill, or injection? How can I let a dream die? Well, I'm feeling worn out and worn down. I'm tired of being an experiment. Tired of putting medicines into my body. Tired of doctors putting instruments inside of me. Tired of being depressed and worried about it all. Tired of sex being unromantic, or worse, not even sex at all but a sterile, clinical procedure.
Is it time to quit? Is it time for a break? Is it time to focus on foster-to-adopt? I'm still trying to work through these feelings and decide what to do.
How do you know when enough really is enough?
We have gone through a lot of the basics that many trying to conceive couples do: temperature-taking (I admit, I was not good at keeping up with that), ovulation predictor kits, timed intercourse, and then later Clomid and Femara with timed intercourse. That was followed by 1 ICI and 4 IUIs, all with Clomid, and all failures. In fact, I have never, ever had a positive pregnancy test in all our years of TTC.
I have a probable PCOS diagnosis. In January I had a laparoscopy and hysteroscopy. My doctor put dye through my tubes and also did a D&C to check and clean out any old lining. All appeared to be well. You know, except for the fact that it isn't. Something still isn't right.
Things that keep me up at night (if not literally then figuratively):
Did we wait too long to start trying? Are certain medications I need to take part of the problem? With our modest financial means, do we even have a chance at figuring out and solving our problem(s)? And more recently, when is enough, enough?
I know there are people who have been trying for years longer than us, they have gone through more invasive procedures, spent more money. Everyone has a breaking point, either mentally, physically or financially, and I'm afraid I'm starting to find mine. We recently went to see a reproductive endocrinologist for a consultation, and now that we have taken that step, I feel myself pulling back. The tests he's ordered are going to hurt us financially. Will we even be able to afford whatever treatment option is offered to us based on the results? And, even more disturbing to me is that I'm thinking, will I even want to go through with the procedure?
That's right, am I really thinking about giving up? After all this, what's another insemination, or pill, or injection? How can I let a dream die? Well, I'm feeling worn out and worn down. I'm tired of being an experiment. Tired of putting medicines into my body. Tired of doctors putting instruments inside of me. Tired of being depressed and worried about it all. Tired of sex being unromantic, or worse, not even sex at all but a sterile, clinical procedure.
Is it time to quit? Is it time for a break? Is it time to focus on foster-to-adopt? I'm still trying to work through these feelings and decide what to do.
How do you know when enough really is enough?
M.D. is married with 2 fur-babies. She writes about trying to add to her family at Glitter and Rainbows.
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
The broken-hearted ones
Close my eyes and take a breath,
This time may finally be ours.
Days, months, years spent dreaming of what it would feel like,
How we would react,
How we would celebrate,
To know that you would soon be in the world.
Our special little blessing,
Whom we have prayed for all this time,
The one that will make our hearts complete.
It is not that easy for some,
It can be a long, hard road to that dream ahead.
A daily struggle with ourselves,
With our bodies,
With our minds,
For two people so in love to create another life.
Our special little blessing,
Whom we have prayed for all this time,
The one that will make our hearts complete.
But our hearts will break, sweet baby,
With every day, every month, every year
That our reveries for you do not come to pass.
And so with hope,
And with faith,
We will continue to wait for you.
Our special little blessing,
Whom we have prayed for all this time,
The one that will make our hearts complete.
Sunny xx
Saturday, 4 February 2012
Getting just a little bit older
So it was my birthday on Friday. I climbed just a little higher into my late twenties, and you know what? It hasn't fazed me at all! I kinda like the older me.
I had the chance this week to spend some quality time with a bunch of my closest friends, the ones I've known and loved for many years, and have shared this aging and maturing journey with me. And we all came to the same conclusion... we are all now at the age where we're into our career paths and pretty damn good at what we do, our colleagues respect our opinion, we are in serious relationships, creating families, gaining more responsibility, and unless we think about it all too deeply, we're not too daunted by it all! I like that my face has developed laugh lines. I love that I've gone from hating to wear jewelry to having seven pieces that are now never to be removed. I love that I have met and married my best friend, and that we have been together since I was a teenager. I love making our home. I love the idea that soon our home will be full of babies. I love that adult life has brought me to this blog and to my creative side, which definitely was not there when I was younger!
My husband turns 30 this year, and is far from silently worried about that fact. I guess until I'm facing that number I can't really understand why he feels so daunted by it. To me, the older you get, the more you have achieved in life. I'm hoping to make him a father at 30. We'll have been married three years at 30. In my opinion, life will get better at 30!! I hope I'm right!
He definitely spoiled me this birthday. He always does, but this time he went above and beyond the usual. His gifts were VERY heartfelt and meaningful, preempting his present-giving with a beautiful speech about how much he loves and respects me, and how brave he thinks I am after everything else we've been through. I was in tears even before ripping through the paper. Here's what I received:
Issey Miyake 'Florale' because I inherited my Nan's love of florals.
And Anna Sui 'Rock Me!'to complete my Anna Sui collection.
I had the chance this week to spend some quality time with a bunch of my closest friends, the ones I've known and loved for many years, and have shared this aging and maturing journey with me. And we all came to the same conclusion... we are all now at the age where we're into our career paths and pretty damn good at what we do, our colleagues respect our opinion, we are in serious relationships, creating families, gaining more responsibility, and unless we think about it all too deeply, we're not too daunted by it all! I like that my face has developed laugh lines. I love that I've gone from hating to wear jewelry to having seven pieces that are now never to be removed. I love that I have met and married my best friend, and that we have been together since I was a teenager. I love making our home. I love the idea that soon our home will be full of babies. I love that adult life has brought me to this blog and to my creative side, which definitely was not there when I was younger!
My husband turns 30 this year, and is far from silently worried about that fact. I guess until I'm facing that number I can't really understand why he feels so daunted by it. To me, the older you get, the more you have achieved in life. I'm hoping to make him a father at 30. We'll have been married three years at 30. In my opinion, life will get better at 30!! I hope I'm right!
He definitely spoiled me this birthday. He always does, but this time he went above and beyond the usual. His gifts were VERY heartfelt and meaningful, preempting his present-giving with a beautiful speech about how much he loves and respects me, and how brave he thinks I am after everything else we've been through. I was in tears even before ripping through the paper. Here's what I received:
This sapphire and diamond ring, with matching earrings.
These match the sapphire crucifix necklace he gave me the Christmas after we lost our first pregnancy.
Issey Miyake 'Florale' because I inherited my Nan's love of florals.
And Anna Sui 'Rock Me!'to complete my Anna Sui collection.
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