More bullet points on what’s happening chez Turia
- TWWs suck. This one especially sucks because they’ve told me to wait a full two weeks even though it was a blastocyst. I guess the whole “being frozen for three years” side of things can slow the little darlings down. Still. This is going to take FOREVER. (And no, I won’t POAS early.)
- I’m sick. Apparently my body decided the absolute best time to get my annual ‘start of a new semester’ cold was yesterday. I’ve had a bit of a runny nose for the last couple of days, but yesterday I felt miserable all day and by the afternoon I’d lost my voice. No fever, thankfully, but I can’t say my general state of health led me to believe that an embryo would think my uterus was a good place in which to stick around. I went to bed at 9 p.m. and slept through until E. woke up, weeping (as he does every morning these days), “Mummy no go away! Mummy come back!”, at 6 a.m.
- I had a whole lot of cramps in the ol’ uterus on Thursday afternoon, which is not surprising given what it had been subjected to that morning. Nothing to report since then.
- I’m getting big hard lumps in my butt from the PIO shots, even with doing them in the morning so I can walk around and use the muscle all day. Sometimes they don’t hurt at all. Sometimes they’re pretty uncomfortable and I get dizzy and have to sit with my head between my knees as soon as Q. pulls the needle out. We manage.
- E. has noticed my Fragmin bruises: “Mummy has dots on her tummy! Purple dots! Purple dot train!”
- I’m back to having insomnia and waking up at 5 or 5:30 a.m. (with the exception of last night), so the extreme-sleepiness stage of the drugs seems to have ended.
- E.’s Mummyitis shows absolutely no signs of abating and is far worse than it has ever been. Q. says he was starting to head in this direction in our last couple of weeks in the U.K., where he would get quite upset when I left and would be crabby most of the day, continually asking when I would be home again, but it’s at an entirely different level now. Fridays are the worst, as that’s the day I teach, so I need to leave early, and I don’t get home until it’s almost supper. E. is basically inconsolable from the moment I walk out the door until Q. gets him out the door to walk to nursery school thirty or so minutes later. This past Friday E. took his shoes off in protest while Q. was putting his own on (I am aware this would be normal toddler tantrum behaviour for some children- in E. this means he is unbelievably upset). He was ok walking to school, had an ok day at school, and then said, “Mummy come back!” every ten seconds or so from the moment Q. picked him up until I came in the door. Poor Aunty C. came home before I did, and E. obviously thought it was going to be me, and he was not pleased.
- There is a family tale that when I was two and a half or so, my Aunt had been over for the day. She had played with me all day- ponies, drawing, stories, etc. I’d had a blast. And then my father came home from work, and I (as family lore records) said: “You go hone Aunt L. You not stay for supper my house, you haf supper your house. You not play wif my Daddy. You go hone.” On Friday, when E. had calmed down upon seeing it was Aunty C. coming in the door and not Mummy, he spent a happy thirty minutes or so with her, while she read him stories, drew him pictures, etc. Then I came in, and E. came out with the following monologue: “E. no yike Aunty C-. Aunty C- go back outside. Aunty C- no play wif E. E. yike playing wif Mummy.” It went on for a good while. We got it on video to show our aunt and our mother. E., it seems, truly is his mother’s son.
- Another classic E. moment: Monday night, Aunty C. cooked dinner (it was delicious). I asked E. if he wanted some of the sauce for dipping (he loves dipping things at the moment). E. agreed with enthusiasm, dipped in his rice, took a big bite, and said, “E. no yike it. That’s a really bad one.” Q., Aunty C. and I just dissolved into laughter.
- We’re all working really hard at telling E. what day it is. He understands that on Mondays Mummy comes to school for her duty day, and on Fridays Mummy goes to teach her class (“E. no yike Mummy teaching her class. E. no yike it when Mummy goes away.”), and we’ve talked a lot over the last two days about the weekend and how that means Mummy and Daddy and E. all get to stay at home, but it’s going to be a slow process. His teachers said he’d settle by the end of September, but I think all the chaos at the start of the month set that back. At this stage we’re hoping by the end of October we might be over the worst of the broken-hearted wailing.
- The separation anxiety makes E. really hard to live with right now. And that is hard too because I know that he is acting out and pushing our buttons and resolutely refusing to comply with anything we ask and changing his mind every two seconds because of the separation anxiety. He is trying to process the changes in his life, trying to make sure that he can still depend on us, trying to make sure that we’re not going to abandon him, that we’re still going to love him, even if he’s tormenting the cats or throwing his toothbrush down the stairs. But it is hard to stay patient and calm and warm and loving when he is driving us crazy. And then every now and then he’ll do something – like yesterday when after he’d finished eating lunch (or, to be more accurate, shouting “No!” and refusing to sit at the table to eat lunch), he went into the living room and put away his Duplo and his Megabloks, sorting them into the appropriate containers, without being asked or prompted, in order to get ready for his nap – and we feel like maybe, just maybe, our sweet gentle son is still in there. And then he’ll have a good nap, and wake up properly rested (for lack of sleep is a huge part of this issue, as he’s staying up too late at night worrying “Mummy no go away”, and he’s waking up too early wanting “Mummy come back” and he’s not napping on the days he’s at nursery school) and he’ll be cheerful and loving and fun to be with again and we can all take a deep breath and reset. Yesterday afternoon I was really really unwell, and E. was happy to mostly amuse himself for close to two hours while I lay on the couch, occasionally putting together a rocket ship or helicopter out of Megabloks. At one point he climbed up on to the couch and lay next to me and we had a lovely cuddle while he said (and I repeated after him, every time he said it), “Mummy loves you very much. Daddy loves you very much. Aunty C. loves you very much.” He was stating it, affirming, confirming.
- I hate what this is doing to him, our gentle, sensitive, soul. I wish I could stay at home with him. I have to finish my dissertation. I’m feeling ripped in half right now.