A Tale of 2 cities - An Epic Year

Contemplating life - Kenya

2014 has definitely been a year that asked some important questions and also provided some answers. It has been a year of many things. A year that allowed me to face some fears, trials and tribulations, sadness and loss, but also to experience many important triumphs, happiness and celebratory moments. This year I have established a path for myself that is far better than I ever dreamed it could be. This post is for no other reason then allowing for self reflection over the previous 12 months and moving towards the new year with a sense of purpose and new found happiness that this current year has brought me. The beginning of the year sent me a message that reminded me how precious and short life really is, to never take things for granted, and to live the life that you have been given, full steam ahead and as you dream it to be. You never know when your time will be up. 2014.. what a brilliant roller coaster ride.

  Young Masai men at their village- Kenya


The magic and mayhem of Africa..

I began the new year over a few beers at a pub in a little town on the outskirts of the Kisii region of Kenya. Up the road from the little village that I had affectionately called home when I had been over in the land of the lion. Midnight in Australian time had clicked over 8 hours earlier. At that time I had been with a car load of my Kenyan friends, bouncing along the bumpy roads out of Nairobi towards the village. Although I mostly had a great time on that trip and every trip I've had over to Africa, at that moment I had missed home and one person in particular. I had already spoken to him on a long distance phone call prior to heading out of Nairobi, yet during the crazy time that I stumbled around Africa, he felt so far away. I had already realised by then that there was one person who I really wanted to spend all my future new years eve's with. Despite our up and down relationship over the 6 months prior to this trip and the uncertainty surrounding what our future might hold or even whether we would end up in the same country, I had known if not beforehand but definitely as soon as I stepped on that plane to head over to Kenya at the end of 2013, that my love and my future was with this man. The man, who now, as 2014 draws to a close, I get to call my husband.

  A typical Kenyan road away from the cities

   New Years beers - the pub in Kisii town

I knew as I travelled to Kenya over the christmas/new year period that it was signaling a certain chapter of my life drawing to a close. Although I was fiercely proud of what had already been accomplished, no matter how small that scale, I knew that I would not be able to sustain either a Kenyan lifestyle or the local projects that I had been given the opportunity to contribute to, primarily as a self funded outsider. It was no longer possible to consider myself as a future long term resident or even a frequent visitor to the country on the current terms that I had been travelling on. It is difficult to explain, but essentially I had been turning up solo to Kenya and living unimpeded as a local African would, with only local support in areas that white people were not commonly found, without the need for external support and protection from large organisations, volunteer programs, or living within protected compounds. The reality was that unless I found employment in the country that was funded by an international company (so as not to take away employment opportunities from other Kenyans and also due to wage problems); was prepared to leave the areas I loved most to live in a more protected community (I have needed to be moved around a fair bit as otherwise it is too dangerous for me, as I am too much of a target to stay in one place for too long without added security unless I am amongst a protected ex-patriotic community); or if I married into the family that I stayed with & found a way to continue to financially support all of them, whilst taking on the village lifestyle permanently, I was going to have to say goodbye to these magical yet dangerous experiences.

                   Bustling village life

                        Village life

                      The 'shops'

        I miss these kids smiling faces 

I knew that I would probably be saying good bye to most of my Kenyan friends, possibly for the final time. Although these relationships were changing or had already changed, I know that all the people I had met in Kenya will always remain in my heart as true friends and that a bridge of friendship had been extended between two worlds that had previously been worlds apart. Kenya will always be my second spiritual home, and I will always find a way to return to Kenya, in whatever capacity that may be in the future. Even if only as a tourist once again, and if only to show my future children and my husband the beauty of the wildlife, the people, the children, the sense of community, and those African sunsets. So many things that really need to be experienced in person to fully appreciate the magic of Africa.

  1 of many beautiful sunrises - Okavango Delta (Botswana)

  The beauty of travel in a mokoro (canoe) - Botswana 

    Love these regular sights in Kenya

Towards the end of this trip, I had a nasty experience that seemed not only to solidify these thoughts about my time in Africa but  have also almost defined my life as time 'before' and time 'after' this moment. I finally felt the full force of the danger that sometimes lies within Nairobi, as it is known with it's nickname as 'Nairobbery'. I was perhaps too complacent and had allowed myself to drop my guard a fraction too low, or I was simply an easily identifiable target in a bustling city of crime and desperation. One night, while feeling a false sense of security, sitting in a pub area situated behind security guards, gates, and metal detectors, I made a solo trip to the bathroom located around a dark corner and too close to the front exit stars that ran into the street of the establishment in central Nairobi. As I was washing my hands, I was suddenly confronted by three men, each wielding a gun that was either pointing at me or jabbing me intermittently in the rib cage or small of my back. I immediately knew that these men meant business, and although my instincts were pushing me to run to safety or attempts to veer off towards my friends that were happily chatting around the corner, oblivious to the drama unfolding close by, a greater instinct allowed me to listen to and obey the danger surrounding me. I was led down the stairs, past the now non existent security guard post and across the street to an opposite ATM machine. As time and thoughts seem to turn into slow motion during times like this, I remember thinking at the time for what seemed an inordinate amount of time about why the security guards were no longer standing at the entrance as we had gone by. Were they paid off to look the other way? Were they in on the robbery? Getting a cut of the takings? Were they on a break that as so often happens in Africa, had extended beyond their normal time? Were they even there to begin with or was I mistaken? I will never really know the real story. By that point I was no longer naive to the corruption that sometimes changes the rules in this country, and I had come to know that a uniform did not always bring integrity to those wearing it. I had focussed on this detail whilst being marched across the road, unsure what level of analysis I was truly capable of right then, but a necessary distraction at the time. I was told by one of the men, who spoke with a thick Kenyan accent that if I gave them what they wanted that I could 'return to my evening'. I do not know much of the swahili language, but I had picked up that the other two were discussing something about time. They didn't seem to have much time, which made me feel calmer knowing that they were anxious to get going. I can't help but wonder whether this was a big factor in saving my life and keeping me from further harm as they were keen to grab the money and run rather than concentrate on me.

                       Nairobi City 

Guns are all too familiar- a Kenyan ranger that we gave a lift to one day

So I was instructed to withdraw the maximum money that I could withdraw from the ATM with my card. I was expected to keep withdrawing until my daily withdrawal limit had been reached (unfortunately this is alot when you are travelling and requiring access to funds). I remember wavering over the keypad for a split second, considering whether to enter an incorrect pin number and prevent them from getting to my hard earnt money. However as I had been savvy enough not to walk around Nairobi with a bag, or phone, or any obviously valuable belongings, all I had in my pockets were some kenyan shilling and my atm/credit card. I knew that if I did not give them this, then I did not have anything else to offer, so I recognised that this was the best option that I had to enable them a chance to honour their promise and take what they wanted and let me go.

They did. Once my card would no longer give any more notes, and was drained of several thousand dollars, I was told to return across the road and not to tell anyone about what had happened. Although I had not been badly hurt, classified by their standards as completely unharmed, I could already feel the bruises on my ribcage and the fattening of my lip and lump on my head from the pushing and shoving with their hands and guns to ensure that I was aware that they were serious about their threats. I will never forget that walk back across the road. The walk across the road, too frightened to look back, eyes only on the door back into the place where my friends were. This was the single most terrifying moment of my life and the entire ordeal. It was then that I expected to be grabbed and pulled into a vehicle, or to feel a bullet in my back or legs as I walked away. When I finally reached my friends, I collapsed in a sea of tears and the adrenaline and shock swept in. Their distress at what had happened to me was evident. The men in the group were distraught that they had not been able to protect me, and the women were speculating at whether my skin colour had saved me from rape or murder as they believed the assailants would find the risk of committing a crime against a foreign white woman as far greater than one against one of them.

Kenyan nightlife -at a safer place for taking photos

Kibera slum - 1 of many reasons that crime is rife in the city

As the fog of terror lifted and the enormity of what had just happened dawned on me, I was forced to deal with the dodgy and useless proceedings at a local police station. Attempting only to obtain a police report to help with my travel insurance claims, aware of the fruitlessness of reporting the crime for any sort of action or arrest to be made, the police were insisting on a 'fee' to cover the cost of the report. With little money remaining and certainly in no mood to play the games with authority, I angrily left empty handed. The very next morning, myself and a couple of others had decided to leave the city and make for a quiet county on the outskirts of Nairobi for the remainder of my stay. I was determined not to run scared for a plane to leave immediately, to stick it out over the next few days until my originally planned exit flight. In typical African fashion, our car broke down in the middle of the city streets before we had even left, and we found ourselves suddenly in the midst of a small city riot that had got out of hand. I was almost laughing at the situation and wondered again how long my luck was going to hold out. As people streamed past us, running from the loud shots emitted from either the police or the rioters, tear gas filled the air and burnt our faces and eyes. We somehow pushed the car through this and somehow jump started the car and finally made our way out of the city. As far as an empty petrol tank would allow us that is. Stalled on the freeway, out of petrol, we then managed to find a petrol can with a small amount of spare petrol in the boot of the car (don't even ask about the safety of that) to get us to the next petrol station and finally get ourselves out to the much quieter Machakos County. My nerves were well and truly shot by this point and I spent that first night in the hotel jumping at every noise and chicken squawk until I finally fell into an exhausted but fitful sleep.

    Riots in Nairobi - road debris aftermath

Car boot where we found petrol - bits of the car that fell off randomly were put here too!

  Typical Kenyan transport - more reliable than cars

Thankfully the remainder of the trip was drama-free. Although rattled, I managed to wander around the county in relative comfort. As it is an area not familiar with tourists and without another mzungu (white person) in sight, I was watched and stared at, but found the place and the people cheeful, helpful and friendly. We played pool, ate and drank while sitting under trees and managed to wind down to a normal level of relaxation. Despite my ordeal, it was still with a small amount of sadness that I said goodbye to Kenya at the end of that week. I know that I will go back there one day although I was now definite that I would not be heading back solo or in the same capacity as before again. Although dangerous, Africa is a beautiful continent, with many amazing and incredible sights, scenes, and adventures. It is these that come to mind most often when I think of Africa, not the guns and the violent men that sometimes fill my nightmares.

   Relaxed and safer in Machakos County

          Doing business with chickens

Sharing the beer garden with the chooks

It was following this experience that I think I have truly realised how precious life is and how easily it can be taken away. As I had faced a potentially life ending situation, it had reminded me how unnecessary and unwarranted many of the worries and anxieties that had filled my mind prior to this really were. Worries about the future, about material things, about luxuries and trivial matters seemed to melt away and seem so insignificant. I realised how important it is to live life with what is in front of you. To relish in what you have and be grateful for the blessings you have received. I also learnt to honour just how important it is to listen to your own soul and to get to living a life that makes you truly happy. Life is too short and unpredictable not to. Why waste time for the sake of obligation or fears and uncertainties about the future when you don't even know what the future may bring or how long your future will even be? Although scary and unpleasant, the robbery in Nairobi really became a blessing in disguise and armed me with a new found courage to jump into the things I want to do rather than merely HAVE to do.

Onwards and upwards in 2014

On my return from Kenya, the remainder of the year was filled with many opportunities, changes, and celebrations, sprinkled with some sadness, loss, and plenty of ailments. With a new found ability to let go of anger and worry, and an attitude geared towards taking steps towards the things that matter to you, with less care about what others might think and whether it is a popular choice, 2014 has provided me with an overall stellar year.


In April I lost one of my beloved cats, Ernie. I also said goodbye to my incredible 97 year old grandma, and I had a heartbreaking miscarriage at 11 weeks pregnant at the end of October. Although these were all difficult experiences that created sadness, grief, and loss for me, I got through them with the positivity of finding the silver linings about these situations. I had owned a brilliant cat, that I had loved and been brought much comfort and joy from for the best part of a decade;  I had been fortunate to have my grandma in my life for a long time into my adult life, who was able to slip away quietly in the end, in a way that so many of us wish to when we think about growing into and dying peacefully of old age; and finally I was shown that although I had lost another unborn baby, falling pregnant is an option that is available to me, not always a guarantee that I could have been sure of previously. The cliche is true, every dark cloud has a silver lining. You just have to allow yourself to see them.

     My much loved & missed cat - Ernie

                   My beautiful nan

2014 has also been year of the ailment. A car park gate fell on me in April, that resulted in a fractured sacrum  (lower spine - a previous post has been writtent about that), tonsillitis, the flu, terrible arthritic flare ups, shingles, bronchitis, gastro, and right now as I type, a virus with a barking cough so violent that it makes me dizzy. Yep the body really cracked it this year. Next year will definitely be the beginning of a healthier year, that is a given. On a brighter note, I was not so riddled with insomnia this year. Letting go of alot of stress has been an incredible instrument in making gains in this area. My body is a work in progress and is definitely more of a focal point as I head into 2015.

So many positives and celebrations along the way: Establishing a strong relationship with the love of my life, allowing myself to finally let go, drop my mask and my protective walls, to truly let someone wholly and completely into my heart and my life. Our engagement was closely followed by our marriage this year. Our wedding day was as perfect a day as I could ever hope to experience and it was absolutely the best decision I have ever made is to have married this man I love so much. Without doubts and with the strength of true love, and a happiness and contentment that I never thought possible, 2014  has emerged as the year that wrote my very own unique love story.

I finally listened to my inner voice, my dreams, and the passions in my heart. I recognised many of my shortcomings and limitations. This brought about a change in work from the fast paced world of private practice back into the community setting of health care. I also began my postgraduate study at Melbourne University in Psychology. A stepping stone to the ideals and career aspirations that I hold for myself in the future. I have finally taken the leap towards these things and am determined to see them out with the hard work and dedication that is needed to do what it takes to create the path that I belong on.

Thank you 2014 for the lessons, the love, the lightbulb moments, and the luck. As this epic year draws to a close, I can safely say that every experience and every second that has led me up until this moment has never been wasted or regretted. Every memory and every moment that shapes us enables us to grow that little bit more into our skin and towards the person that we are destined to become.

Here's to a quietly calm 2015...

Random thoughts

Thank you.

I cannot begin another post without first recognising and being thankful for the enormous support and love directed my way following my previous post. It is truly heartwarming to see just how many people care and wish for good things to come my way. So many people have been touched by loss and grief or the complicated mess that sometimes comes with the decision to start a family. It is because of this that I had hoped that posting my writing might help someone else not feel so alone, but really it was me that was made to feel less isolated and wrapped up in a big collective hug. So, thank you. It makes moving forward seem so much easier when you know that there are people quietly cheering for you as I am quietly cheering for others in their own quests to fulfil their dreams.

So as I continue to move forward, as I do not believe in doing anything other than doing so, I am filled with positivity and a 'lightness' about whatever is next, in whatever way that might be. My husband is a large component of this feeling. For the first time in a long time, if ever, I let my guard down and dropped the walls that I usually hide behind when something is difficult. I actually surrendered to letting someone else in. Really letting someone in. I was forced to abandon my usual comfort zone. He saw the frightened, vulnerable, and dependent woman, who needed him, and he knew exactly what and how to deal with it, all while dealing with his own emotions. We so often forget that when someone is going through something awful or painful, that there is very often also a partner, a husband or wife, a boyfriend/girlfriend, companion, or family member sitting on the sidelines, living the nightmare just as powerfully as the person in the spotlight. These people also need support and recognition that they also need support and help if its needed. I am truly blessed to have such an amazing man by my side living and breathing the vows that we took only last month to be a team and forever together 'For better, for worse, in sickness and in health'.

When I say Whoah... I mean Whoah!

Life's little hiccups give you an awesome opportunity to assess your own frailties, flaws, and increase your capacity to learn and for self improvement. I know now more than ever before just how stubborn I can be. Like an elderly dog sitting down in refusal half way through a walk, I can dig in my heels and refuse to budge. Yes, at times stubbornness has actually worked to my advantage: "You tell me that I probably won't be able to run any decent distance ever again?"... Here's my marathon finisher's medal.. "What's that? I'll never be able to get into Melbourne University for a new course to study?"... Here's my confirmed enrolment papers.. "You think I'm crazy to consider travelling to Africa by myself?"... Here's the photos from my multiple trips to the great African continent... And sometimes it has NOT worked to my advantage..: "You're telling me that I shouldn't compete in that half marathon that I haven't put in enough training for?"... Watch me have to walk to the finish line after only 14km when I do it anyway.. "You say that if I try to do double training sessions to make up for missed ones that I'll get injured?" ... Oh yeah, I did those extra sessions and you know what, now Im injured...  There are times when I really need to learn to take a step back and objectively look at a situation rather than stubbornly hanging onto a decision I'm emotionally invested in like a mountain climber with a broken safety rope hanging onto a rock.

Trust me when I tell you that you can trust me.. ?

Another important consideration that I have been thinking about lately is the concept of trust. Trust in many things. Trust in logical process, trust in God's plan, trust to accept professional help when it is warranted, trust in the capacity to heal, trust in my body. The simple sentence to 'trust in my body' is often not so simple in my head. The human body is an amazing creation. Extraordinary in its abilities and yet impossible to ever be perfect. The human body is beautifully flawed. At times our bodies will let us down when we least expect it and often outside of our own control. With illness, with deformity, with bad luck, and with a vulnerability to break down when something stronger is thrown upon it for too long. Yet, the human body can also surprise us time and time again in its capacity to extend beyond what we often believe possible. In endurance and strength, in survival & defense, in reproduction and birth, in regeneration and resilience. Not always understood, sometimes frustrating, but always a magical force of nature that we are blessed with as mankind. I have learnt in my short life to date, in the small number of trials and tribulations and in the achievements and exhilarations that I have experienced, that the more that I learn to listen to and trust my body, the better off I am.

Part of my stubborness around trying to have a baby, is my whole hearted stubborn belief that my body will eventually figure out how to do the baby thing, in its own time, and when it is ready. No matter how many false starts it endures. In the need for answers that we as people constantly strive for, sometimes it is okay to just not have an answer yet. Yes, I am currently on a appointment cancellation list for one of the top specialists in perinatal medicine, to get the ball rolling for finding answers and further investigating the possible causes of my troubles. I know that it is the wise choice to accept this help, to face up to whatever answers we may be given, and to roll with the marvels of modern medicine to either help me achieve what I want so badly, or alternatively inform us if it is not possible and allow us to pursue alternative options. On paper, logically speaking, so many things are possible. Spiritually, emotionally and in my heart is the stronger and more simple need to let go of everything and allow whatever is meant to be, to be. I trust my body to do what it is able to in whatever capacity that is. I don't know yet whether this situation will result in advantage or disadvantage if I remain true to my stubborn self, however I am finding it easier to trust the natural process and all it entails along the way. The human body will adapt and twist when needed, it protects and defends when required and sometimes, just sometimes, when you are completely unsure whether you are at the end of a no through road, this fallible mixture of flesh and blood creates miracles.

For now, I'm just happy to get through the day without tripping over or grazing an elbow. I wish I could trust my coordination more..

"When are you going to have a baby? Hurry up and have a baby"... Believe me, if I could I would.

Most days I am good. But some days it can get to me... even when life is awesome in so many ways.

Comfortably numb

Thump, thump, thump, thump.. rasp, breathe, rasp, breathe.. The rhythmic sound of my feet pounding the pavement in combination with my laboured breathing is a comfort. I have missed this more than I can really express. Only a couple of short weeks ago, I was cleared by the doctor to run and exercise again after being trapped without exercise. Threatened as being only 1 or 2 steps off complete bed rest for an excruciating three months. More on that in a minute.. As I've said many times, running provides therapy for my soul in a way that nothing else can. I can say the words about how I'm feeling, I can write down my emotions, but nothing helps me to process what I am feeling like when I'm exerting myself physically. I know myself well enough to know that one of my defensive mechanisms that I use to protect myself when I'm having a tough time is to distance myself from strong emotions. To create a bubble of numbness. Although that gets me through in the short term, my challenge is learning how to crawl back out of the bubble, as I know all too well how damaging it can be to stay in there too long. When I run, especially as unfit & overweight as I currently am, which increases the pain and discomfort of running itself, I am forced to feel something, and I dont feel numb. It appears to be one of the only times that I can acknowledge emotional pain and allow the tears to roll without fighting them back.

Well here goes a depressing post... I realise that it might seem like a downward spike following my previously happy and loved up post about our recent wedding.  Originally, I did not want to post something like this, as I prefer the positive posts a hell of a lot more, however I need to get these things out of my head and heart, a kind of written outlet...
So, nearly 3 weeks before our wedding, I had a miscarriage. This time I had made it 11 weeks into the first trimester before investigation at the hospital about some spotting turned out to be bad news. This was then closely followed by the trauma of miscarrying later that night and ending up urgently back in hospital for an excruciating and heartbreaking 24 hours, suffering from blood loss and dangerously high dehydration and blood pressure. That brings my total pregnancy losses to 4. Unfortunately this puts me within the membership of the recurrent miscarriage club, not a club that anyone wants to be a part of. It also generates a response of sympathy from even the most hardened of midwives and nurses at the women's hospital, those who deal with loss every day. Simply, it sucks. We are booked to attend a specialist miscarriage unit in the coming weeks to attempt to get some answers and to get whatever help, if anything, that may be done to get me past that dreaded 1st trimester. We are in good hands at least, the specialists and medical staff at Mercy Hospital have been amazing. With my rheumatoid arthritis putting me within the world of autoimmune disease & its side effects, which can have a negative effect on fertility and miscarriage risk, this appears to be one of the likely culprits for my losses. At this stage anyway. We will hopefully know more in the near future. For now the focus is on healing emotionally &  physically. Our wedding has been a shining beacon of light and happiness in an otherwise troubled time. We had hoped to be able to announce our pregnancy at the wedding reception (I would have been 14 weeks by then) and we went to great lengths to hide the pregnancy in the meantime. Unfortunately gods plan had other ideas and we were forced to accept that this time just wasn't meant to be.

In a strange way it gets abit easier to cope when something like this happens when you have become familiar with its occurrence. It definitely affects your outlook and excitement when you are actually lucky enough to fall pregnant, as it deems it merely another hopeful roll of the dice rather than news that a baby is definitely on its way. Anyone who has suffered a miscarriage would be able to relate to the sense of trepidation that any future pregnancies brings out. You want to celebrate it, be optimistic and to be able to relax & enjoy the pregnancy, yet it is impossible to ignore the reality that you are always a chance not to reach your expected due date. Sometimes your body tells you that something is wrong and it becomes obvious very quickly, sometimes your body fights to protect the pregnancy even though it is a lost cause and only a scan reveals the truth. I have suffered both sides of the equation at various stages of the 1st trimester, and I think they are all as bad as each other. Having said that, this one was particularly traumatic, not so much because of the miscarriage itself, although that was definitely gut wrenching, but more so because my own physical health was at such great risk. I was dangerously close to needing emergency surgery, fighting just to stay conscious and battle the pain thanks to severe blood loss, a complication with passing the tissue and extreme dehydration. It was scarier than I had experienced before. It took me a good week at home once I was out of hospital to begin to even feel human again. Thank goodness for my Al. He never left my side, even during some pretty unpleasant and hairy moments at the hospital, and then spending time at home with me to look after me. Thank goodness for DVDs of Game of Thrones, Season 1-3 for getting us through that week as well. We are now officially addicted to that show..

Bad news does not travel as fast as good news..

In the lead up to the miscarriage, I had actually written about the wait and uncertainty during the 1st trimester to help myself deal with it. I almost believe that the anguish during this time is worse, as you are in a yo-yo battle with yourself and there is so much unknown and WAITING. At least you have an answer, albeit not the one you were after, following an actual pregnancy loss.

This is what I wrote on what turned out to be the day before I miscarried:

"In case the fear of another miscarriage was not scary enough, considering my history of multiple losses, the addition of brown spotting for 1-2 weeks since I have hit the 9 weeks pregnant mark, is threatening to tip me over the edge. Despite all the best intended advice from professionals and much wasted time on Google, attempting to reassure me that unless I see bright red blood and also get cramping pain, I am probably ok, it is no good, it is all consuming.  At a time when I am so close to the end of my 1^st trimester and hoping to shortly make a happy announcement, the threat of miscarriage hanging over my head has instead become a tough battle of self distraction and stifling of negativity.

It is particularly tough when hardly anyone actually knows that I am pregnant to start with, so I must face daily life with a mask of feigned happiness and positive energy. Frankly it has been exhausting. I call it ‘game-face’. The face that the world sees that hopefully cannot see the turmoil going on behind my forced smile.

The physicality of pregnancy means that despite whatever else is going on around you, there is always a constant background or ‘buzzing awareness’ of being pregnant. It can be a cause for contentment and happiness, but at times like this it becomes a source of unrest and doubt.

I feel as though I am living inside my own head so much, at times I’m not even sure whether I have said things out loud or within my mind. I am actively avoiding social contact, purely because it is too tiring to fake upbeat energy, especially with my new work colleagues who I do not know very well yet. I’m abit relieved that Im not around a lot of people who know me well, yet it also makes the loneliness of this experience more acute. Initially I was aiming to ‘lie low’ more to minimise people’s suspicions, as more recently over the last 3 months I have started to show some outward signs of pregnancy already. A rounder face, bad skin, looking and feeling exceptionally tired, obviously have put on weight, weird aversions and cravings to food and just not acting my usual self.

The other difficulty when trying to hide early pregnancy, is trying to also hide not drinking alcohol. I am a girl who loves a beer and is not known to turn down an alcoholic beverage when it is offered to me. This has caused some interesting scenarios and super sneaky work between me and Al to lead people into assuming that I am drinking when I really am not. This has included the usual tricks of holding one drink and pretending to sip from it for uncomfortably long periods of time, finding small opportunities to tip some out or to swap with Al, who has then ended up having to drink more than his fair share to lower both his and mine drink levels. Our favourite has definitely been the substitution of soft drink into bottles of alcohol and recapping them so they look unopened. This has got me through BYO alcohol events including a hens night and a couple of bbq’s. Not only does it look the same, but it tastes almost identical too. It is also a very expensive way to drink soft drink though.

So during all this has been numerous doctor appointments, blood tests, a scan or two, and now direct referral into the specialist part of Mercy women’s hospital, that deals with high risk pregnancy and higher antenatal monitoring of their patients. I seem to be in good hands and they will definitely do all that they can to help me with whatever they can control in my plight to become a mother.

The waiting is excruciating. Time is definitely not flying this year. Time is crawling along at a distinctively slow pace and each day that I don’t begin to miscarry becomes a small step forward. I know the positive sides even if we do, the ‘at least I know that we can conceive’, ‘chances are that the next pregnancy will be successful’, ‘from now on you will get specialist medical care’.. etc..etc. Yes these are all positives, but the harsh reality is that it is a LONG road, filled with mountainous ups and downs, the uncertainty of whether it is ever going to be possible to get through a pregnancy, no amount of positivity can kill the doubt that multiple false starts creates.

Being at the mercy of something so completely out of your control is frustrating. You become a prisoner of your own body and you become unsure of any different feelings, sensations, movements or pains that happen. It sucks. You scrawl the internet for good news stories of cases where the symptoms mimic your own, and inadvertently find more that don’t end well. After a miscarriage, weird things sometimes affect you. You stare at the women walking around shopping centres with babies or young children and you crave to be able to do that. You attend 1st birthdays, christenings, new baby arrivals, and baby showers, happily at the time, genuinely enthusiastic and in celebration for those around you having their milestones and families started or added to, but then fight back tears on the way home and beat yourself up for feeling sorry for yourself. You are a part of many conversations that centre around children and babies, parenting and things related to being a mother, especially at my age when alot of women have had babies or are having them. Although you contribute a little in theory, love hearing about the little ones, and sometimes feel like taking notes on the many tips and things you can learn from these convo's for when it is finally your turn, sometimes it still leaves you with an unshakable feeling of being an outsider. You are often acutely aware that you are definitely not a member of the motherhood club that seems to create an understanding and a bond between all its members that you know you cannot understand or pretend to be a part of.

Having been threatened with complete bed rest if I didn’t take it easy, there has been no exercise allowed, no exertion, minimal time on feet where possible and maximum quiet time. Time drags. You are painfully aware how boring you have become. Not willing to head out for fun with friends or family, avoiding social stuff, and not being able to be a part of anything your partner would normally have you at. Then, in case you weren’t emotional enough, you start to worry about how boring and difficult you are making daily life for your partner. This is of course on top of feeling unattractive and ill and hoping that you regain your energy and some level of attractiveness before your partner totally forgets how good times used to be. Yep, level of mind torture really steps up a notch amongst the emotional and hormonal rollercoaster ride that you are riding."

Instinctively Aware

When I re-read this post before I considered posting it, it makes me realise just how much my instinct had already told me I was going to lose this pregnancy. More than I even recognised during the time that I actually wrote it.  I just 'knew'. This instinct is no joke. I think I can almost completely pinpoint the difference I feel when a pregnancy is thriving and when it isn't, regardless of what my symptoms are or are not telling me. I have no idea whether this is helpful or not.

I think it really didn't hit me until about a week later. I had been ok throughout the previous week, reasonably philosophical and fairly positive. Too ok. One night Al's 11 month old niece was staying overnight and he had been giving her a bottle before they both fell asleep together on the couch. It was utterly adorable and filled me with love, as it often does whenever I see my husband with children. I thought how amazing a dad he would make. As I gently lifted her from his arms and put her down to sleep for the night in the cot, something triggered within me. That small act of babysitting/parenting together seemed to raise to the surface the grief and sadness that had been lurking just beneath it, well hidden but threatening to bring me undone. I quickly excused myself to the bathroom to 'have a shower', as soon as I shut the door I sat on the floor and cried my heart out. I didn't think I was ever going to get back up off the floor. It was that type of intensity that renders you silent and inwardly in pain, the sobbing didn't even have a noise. I slowly pulled myself together, stood up and stood underneath the shower for an unmeasured amount of time, hoping the water would somehow wash away the grief and despair down that plug hole. It was needed. It was cathartic and it was healthier than locking those feelings inside.

I also had a couple of moments of shakiness during the wedding when I felt an immense sadness wash over me that we were not going to be announcing the news that we so desperately hope for. Fortunately the wedding was such a celebration of love and the amazing things that we do have, that it has helped immensely with the healing process.

The truth is that I really am ok. I know that I will live to fight another day regardless of the outcome. I am resilient and I am able to get through without falling to pieces. Or probably more accurately Im able to fall to pieces, and put myself back together again. There are things that could be worse than this, so it is times like this that it is important to count your own blessings and recognise the value of all the things that are right. I am venting because I needed to get the thoughts that were tumbling around in my head out of there. 
I apologise to anyone that finds this post difficult to read, or tedious at best. I am frustrated at how hidden these experiences often are for people. Miscarriage creates such helplessness, frustration, sorrow and isolation. It creates emptiness and loneliness that even a strong support group of love and help cannot relieve. So why do so many couples/women have to suffer in silence? I am a person who lives out loud. My life is pretty much an open book. If anything I write can help someone relate, feel better, or less alone about their own experience, then that is a bonus that I hope for. The selfish truth is that it makes me feel better. I recognise that it is often very hard on the people around you when you go through something like this too. They often don't know what to say, or feel helpless themselves that they cannot help, its uncomfortable. I believe these reasons can sometimes help drive it underground too. I myself wanted to be the bearer of only good news in our announcement. Not the recipient of pity, of sympathy, and of sadness. Especially at the wedding, it was easier to not have to face a crowd of people feeling pain for you, instead most were blissfully unaware and there for celebration and happy promises that we will one day have children together now that we are married.

We hope so. I can promise that we will do everything we can to get there anyway. So fingers and toes crossed, and I strap myself in for all that lies ahead.

Happily Ever After

A perfect day..

So. Last Friday, I got married... People talk about hoping that their wedding day is amazing and goes by without a hitch. Well wishers hope for you to have a brilliant day with good weather and everything going to plan. Last Friday hit another stratosphere of 'good days'. It was to me, essentially the 'perfect day'. It did not matter what the weather did, whether everything went to plan, or exactly how everything unfolded. I got to marry the love of my life, on a day filled with love, happiness, laughter and tears of joy. I was told by a family member that the day was a true celebration of love and family. The initial feedback from our guests was that the majority had a great time. In terms of things going 'right', we had most things go by without a hitch, enough food, music we were happy with, and an atmosphere that we had hoped for. Plus we both woke up the next day in a bubble of happiness and in a haze of a happy hangover. Cheers to love & cheers to beginning a new chapter with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.

      Selfie while walking out the church!

Cruise control

I found the week leading up to the wedding relatively wedding stress free. I wouldn't label it totally stress free in life terms, but that had more to do with me having to sit an exam for university in the same week as the wedding. It was really not until I had got that out the way that I could truly set my sights on the big day.

As far as wedding planning goes, we managed to squeeze the works into an 8 week period (we only officially got engaged 2 months earlier) without too many hiccups. The key is to be decisive. If you have an idea what it is that you want and are willing to lock things in as they come up, then there is no reason that you cannot put together a wedding within a fairly short time frame. That is unless you have your heart set on a particular date or hard to get venue. Also, I found a dress that I liked off-the-shelf, that only needed some small alterations, however for those that have their heart set on a dream dress that needs to be made or ordered in, the reality is that most bridal shops require a 4-6 month minimum for those types of dresses. As someone who did not even do my debutante back in high school because I did not want to wear a girly white dress, I knew that I would find something that I was happy with without the full bridal experience. And yes I ended up wearing white, my nan would probably have turned in her grave if I didn't, 2nd wedding or not. My advice to anyone considering getting hitched soon.. Stick to what you like & don't feel pressured to stick with the traditional for the sake of it if it is not exactly what you want. 

   We like doughnuts more than traditional 'wedding cake'

It also helps when the Groom, who regularly runs sporting events and therefore has some good experience in this arena, is hands on. In fact, I think he had the most fundamental part to play in the majority of the event planning and coordination of most of it. More time for me to have cups of tea and cruise through to the big day.
My poor husband spent a very stressful wedding eve day running around, dropping off equipment and decorations to the venue, and last minute organisation, whilst I spent the day getting my nails done, pedicure, eyelashes, some last minute shopping, just in time to head over to my parent's place for a home cooked meal and glass of wine.

I do

After my run on wedding day morning

Doing normal things and having abit of a normal routine is a definite nerve settler. I kept waiting for the nerves to rear up, and despite a couple of minutes of nervousness just prior to stepping into the church, all I felt was excitement. The morning I slept in till after 8am, went for a 30 minute run, had a relaxed breaky. Jumped in the shower with 1 minute to spare before my hair and make up girl arrived at 11am, then spent time chatting and laughing with her until we were joined by my best friend, who brought champers to enjoy while her make up was done and we had a laugh until it was go time. Best and most relaxed preparation ever!

'.. Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars..'

Mentioning every detail about the day is not only tedious, but it is impossible to fully express the magic of the day. So instead, here are some pinnacle moments/highlights that sent me up onto a cloud 9 of happiness and contentment.

* Spending time with my bestie and parents at home in the morning - relaxed times and good laughs with 3 of the best people I could ask for in the lead up to the ceremony

My bestie & my folks. Love them!

* Turning the corner of the aisle and catching sight of my handsome husband-to-be, all suited up and as happy to see me as I am to see him

* My niece and nephew handing us the rings during the ceremony - complete with comic relief when my gorgeous 4 year old nephew went for a tumble and dropped the ring, recovered brilliantly and cutely turned to give a thumbs up to his folks when the deed was done. haha!

* Photos outside the church, and the happy realisation that I am now officially part of a rather large family with many members jumping in for photos and well wishes.

* The car ride alone with my husband to the venue, an opportunity to gather our thoughts and let the ceremony sink in

* Discovering a table tennis table at the venue, only then to further discover that my thoughtful hubby has organised to get a competition level table there for the night (surprise number 1) not only for photos but also so I can have a hit with my father and brother, who were also competitive players like me.

* The reception venue room filled with most of the people that we love most in the world

* The enormous surprise of finding 7 family members (Al's & my cousin) and him sitting on stools with guitars and in front of microphones, followed by a secretly organised rendition of 'Thinking out loud' by Ed Sheeran. Followed then by an impromptu bridal waltz to same song from this live performance. - I had no idea about this, and was absolutely blown away. It is impossible to express just how magical this moment was and what it meant to me to have these beautiful people and Al do this for me. The most amazing gesture of my life..

* The moment that my new mother in law began her speech by singing a hymn. A little quirky, definitely brave, and a woman that lives and breathes her beliefs with a quiet strength that is truly remarkable.

* Thinking that Al's cousin was actually getting arrested by police for theft (inside family joke) and spending a couple of minutes trying not to react outwardly before realising that the 'police' are actually dressed up family members playing a prank.. funny as!

* My husband's speech. The man has an ability to express himself in a way that I am in awe of. Followed by the incredible moment that he ends his speech by launching himself into song, singing the beginning of Dirty Dancing's 'Time of my life'. Romantic much??

* Packed dance floor. Watching people who have never met before dancing and singing together like old friends. I did not want the party to end

* Walking along the streets of St Kilda with my new husband to our hotel for the night. Completely forgetting that we are still in bridal wear and drawing stares and random congratulations from strangers in the street and outside nightclubs along the way.

* Polishing off a bottle of champagne and a plate of nachos with my new hubby at the hotel, guaranteeing a happy hangover the next day.

* Waking up on Saturday morning in the arms of Al, totally and completely elated and beyond happy to begin our lives together as husband and wife.

Best. Day. Ever.