Breastfeeding: How it's going

Warning: I'm talking about boobs in this post. Obviously this is in the sense of them being my son's source of food, rather than anything else.

Back when we were having the IVF treatment I found myself swinging between 'definitely going to breastfeed' to 'eh, we'll see how it goes'. When I got pregnant I started out leaning towards seeing how it would go but not wanting to put too much pressure on myself.

I was aware that women who have had fertility treatment can be slightly more at risk of postnatal depression. I guess part of it is because you've had a lot of time to think about being a mum and so you build up a picture of how things are supposed to be, as a result of that you put undue pressure to make everything just right. After all, if you couldn't get pregnant on your own, and then the stuff you're supposed to do as a parent doesn't go the way it's meant to, then perhaps the universe was justified in not giving you that baby naturally; maybe you're not really cut out for it. You can see why it can affect the way a person thinks.

So I didn't want to put too much pressure on myself to breastfeed simply because I didn't want to put too much pressure on myself with regards to anything when the baby was born. I stocked up on bottles (well, my Mum generously stocked us up on bottles) and even got some formula in so we were ready.

But then as the pregnancy progressed and I was so ill I found myself worrying about how I would bond with the baby. Then once I started feeling him move and I did bond with him I became painfully aware of the fact that sooner or later I wouldn't have that close connection with my baby anymore. He'd be out in the world and anyone could comfort him, anyone could change his nappy or cuddle him or put him to bed. But breastfeeding would enable me to be the only one to feed him. And as the pregnancy went on, I became more and more determined to breastfeed.

I was worried, of course. I worried that I would hate it; I'm not really into physically contact all that much and breastfeeding requires quite a bit of physically contact between feeder and feedee. I worried that my milk wouldn't come in or would dry up. I worried that I wouldn't know how much my baby boy was getting to drink. I worried it would hurt. I worried that all the nipple creams contained lanolin and I'm allergic so would have to suffer with dry cracked nipples with nothing to soothe them.

If you can think of a breastfeeding related anxiety, I probably had it. And then some you probably never would have considered as well.

As I blogged about previously, we got off to a slightly rocky start with breastfeeding. The rough delivery and my being so poorly afterwards meant my milk took a while to come in. I was all set with colostrum; with a midwife's help I managed to express 2ml into a syringe on Laurie's birthday. Two measly mils but I felt like a superhero. Laurie lapped that stuff up and it just strengthened my resolve.

I'm a stubborn sort of person, so if someone says I can't do something, it only makes me more determined to do it. So when we had the blip with Laurie's weight and we had to supplement with formula, damnit I was going to breastfeed and I was going to do it well. Even if that meant giving my little boy formula as a top up to help him out.

Once home I was leant a pump by our local midwives. I'd been using the Medela Symphony in the hospital and was expecting something similar. What I got was something altogether more industrial looking and I just couldn't get on with it.

I was supposed to be pumping after a feed, on the breast he'd last fed on. In the hospital I'd been getting 20ml a time (10ml per boob) in 20 minutes. At home I was getting 10ml (that's total from both boobs together) and it was taking an hour. And that was an hour that I couldn't be feeding my son.

It worried me that perhaps Laurie wasn't getting enough milk, that the poor little guy was starving and we'd have to give it up entirely. But then I did a bit of research and discovered the pump funnel I was using was 32ml, whereas the one in the hospital had been 24ml. The 32ml funnel was sucking not only my nipple into the tube but also a sizeable bit of boob. And I'm not exactly small breasted. It was painful and made my nipples look like champagne corks, which Laurie then couldn't latch onto.

I gave it a good couple of goes before abandoning the electric pump. I had more success with the hand pump I got from Boots, except it made my hand cramp, I had to work at it for twice as long as the hospital pump to get 20ml, and the thing kept dismantling itself. In the end I gave the electric pump back as they didn't have a smaller funnel I could use with it.

And to be honest, I've not really needed to pump recently. I was going to before our trip to the mainland the other day but Laurie introduced me to the wonderful world of cluster feeding that Saturday and I couldn't get him off the boob long enough to pump.

But he's obviously getting enough as he's gaining weight well now so while it would be nice for his daddy to feed him occasionally, I'm here with him and it's a lot less effort to pop out a boob than to organise a bottle (or as we've been doing, cup feeding).

As I didn't want to invest too much money in breastfeeding before I knew if I'd stick with it, I didn't get any proper nursing clothing beyond my maternity bras. But it turns out I can just wear what I normally wear.

My usual outfit is a long-sleeved top with a Primark vest top underneath. I thought I'd need to switch to some sort of nursing vest top and button front tops. Turns out that my regular clothes are just perfect, especially the larger size vest tops I got during pregnancy to accommodate the growing bump. I just raise the long-sleeved top, pull down the vest top and unsnap my bra. This means I'm able to discreetly feed Laurie and I'm not flashing too much skin.

I mean, look, you'd never know I was doing it:

Please note, this is also photographic evidence of my first time feeding my son in public.

I was kind of worried about this. I even packed a premade bottle of formula in the nappy bag in case I bottled out. My boy was hungry as we got off the ferry so when we got on the train feeding him was the easiest thing.

I'm lucky in that I'm finding breastfeeding relatively easy. My right nipple can get a bit tender sometimes because Laurie's tongue tie makes latching on this side challenging for him. It's mostly during night feeds when we're both tired that it gets sore because I'm tired and lazy about getting him to stay on correctly. That said, I'm yet to use my £18 nipple balm (lanolin free, obviously, hence the price tag).

Breastfeeding will never be right for everyone. At the end of the day, what's best for baby is being fed, regardless of whether that milk is coming from a boob or a bottle.

But for me, breastfeeding is right for us. It's free, there's no sterilising to fiddle with, there's no preparation beyond arranging your clothes for boob access. I'm cheap and lazy and it works for me.

It also allows me a certain degree of closeness with my boy. I'm hoping to keep going for as long as Laurie wants to.

Though I may need to reconsider how I feel about that once he has teeth!

My First Mother's Day

First things first:

Happy Mother's Day to all:

 - the mums

 - the stepmums

 - the dads, aunts, uncles, grandparents and other family members who are taking the place of mums

 - the mums to be

and especially to the people who find the day tough, the people who have been dreading the day since the shops started advertising it coming, the people who don't have a mum to spoil and celebrate with, and all the mums with empty arms who won't be waking up to sticky kisses and homemade cards:

 - the ones who have said goodbye to their little ones far too early

 - the ones who never got to meet them or hold them and discover the awesome people they would become

 - the ones who are mothers at heart but are still waiting for the child who will complete them

Have a wonderful gentle day.

Today was my first ever proper Mother's Day as a mother. I've had Mother's Days before, but they were with frozen embryos waiting for me in Glasgow, or after we'd lost the twins so there was no baby bump to celebrate with. I was more excited for this day than for my own birthday this year.

And my boys didn't let me down.

Laurie slept late so I was able to eat my breakfast with both hands free. And then there were cards (from both Laurie and my Mum), and a gift bag containing chocolate, a teddy and a mummy mug.

And then there was a surprise trip out for cake and afternoon tea.

Laurie was a little angel and slept through it.

It's been a wonderful weekend (yesterday there was a relaxing bath and Chinese). And I'm looking forward to celebrating again in the years to come.

38 Weeks Pregnant

I know, I'm late with this week's update. For no other reason than the fact that I've been too lazy to actually post anything.

I've also been trying to get Baby Bo's bump to baby book updated and so the time I've been spending online has been used up comparing old blog posts, forum posts, social media posts and the like to make sure I'm getting my dates right for everything. As of yesterday I'm up to 25 weeks pregnant so hopefully by the end of the week I'll be ready to start filling it in for his birth!

The last week has been a bit of a long one. Last Friday, to celebrate the end of my first week off work (and since I was taking the time as holiday) Mr Click and I decided to go out for lunch. This plan was almost foiled when his phone decided to pack up.

Let me tell you, there's never a good time for your phone to die on you but roughly two weeks before your wife is die to have your baby is probably up there as one of the worst!

We established it was under warranty so arranged for it to be sent off for repair, but that left Mr Click with no phone at all. And no one on the island sold even the most basic of replacements. Scratch that, we couldn't even get a non-basic replacement locally. Thank goodness for Amazon.

I've been feeling really lazy this bit of the week as well. I've had days at home where I've spent a lot of time chilling on the sofa or in bed. I'm still getting bits and pieces done around the house but I feel like most of what needed to be organised has been (I could still do stuff in the spare bedroom but I'm not sure I've got the energy levels to start anything too in depth).

And I've grown massively this last week.

I don't normally do week to week comparisons, but I think you'll agree that this week's kind of called for it!

I especially like the way that the bump barely fits in the frame anymore. I think if I was to march into work looking like this now it'd make my colleagues eyes pop out. So much for the nice little bump!

Now despite being lazy for the latter half of the week, I was pretty busy on Monday (my first official day of Mat Leave).

We ordered some plastic storage drawers for the baby's room, to accommodate some of his bulkier clothes, so I made room for them. I also got distracted by the contents of my Scottish Baby Box (again) and had a go at playing with my fabric wrap for carrying the baby, with a little help from Teddy Henry, my very first bear, who had no complaints about the thing.

This is me rocking the jammies and unbrushed hair look. I've spent way more time in my jammies than I said I would during my Mat Leave. Okay, so it was only two days this week (Saturdays don't count) but it's easier than wearing the clothes I'm planning on taking to the hospital and then having to wash and dry them before the big day. At least that's my excuse!

Mr Click got in on the baby (teddy?) wearing action too:

I'm impressed at how easy the wrap is to tie. The thing is four times longer than me so I'm not sure how practical it'll be when we're out places and I'll be wanting to take it on and off; the Ergobaby we're planning to get in the next few weeks will be better for that. But for around the house and nipping it when Bo will be in it the whole time, it'll be perfect.

The aforementioned drawers also arrived, came home and freed up some space on Bo's shelves. I don't think I'll ever get tired of sorting through teeny tiny outfits!

As for Bo himself? He's all good. We had our last local midwife appointment before he arrives (unless he gets any funny ideas).

It was a general chat, an overview of what to expect at this week's coming 'sweep', the basic idea of what the induction will entail (a list of places where Mr Click could check in to be near the hospital while I'm induced was also provided so we got that booked), and then the routine poke and prod.

While the midwife was trying to check whereabouts his head was in my pelvis, Baby Bo stuck his bum right out. This massive bulge appeared in my belly, inches from my head, she said 'oh hello' and we all got the giggles. He really wasn't in the mood for being poked!

He'd not really moved any lower down since my last appointment. His heart rate was fine and he's still measuring on his roughly average growth curve. She estimated his weight at birth to be a little over 7lbs, though given that recent bump photo, I'm beginning to have my doubts about that!

And now we're heading into our final week countdown.

We're experiencing some bad weather at the moment so I'm hoping Bo sticks with the schedule and doesn't get any ideas about coming before next weekend.

Do you know how crazy it is to think I'm having a baby next weekend?!

By the time I next update the blog, he could be here!

Body Positivity and Pregnancy

Warning: this post includes a photo of me in my underwear. Just as a heads up.

I, like many women I suspect, have often struggled to feel comfortable in my own skin. I was a little bit worried about how I'd feel during pregnancy as a little being took over my body and made it go through all sorts of weird and wonderful changes.

I worried even more when in the throes of liver failure inducing hyperemesis because clearly that was yet another sign that my body wasn't up to the task I was asking of it. Just like it had let me down when I wanted it to get pregnant in the first place and when it had decided that five foot two and a half inches was a perfectly respectable height for me and so we were done with that pesky growing business.

I can remember writing in my diary as puberty hit, feeling utterly confused by the way my body was developing. Boobs seemed to creep up on me gradually, while hips appeared almost overnight (leaving me with some nice attractive stretchmarks which seemed to take years to fade from angry purple-red to the creamy colour they are today). All the books seemed to talk about how your body would change but mine, like everyone else, followed its own schedule and I'm not sure I was too happy about the reminders I was growing up. I've never really been that good at accepting change.

As teens and young women do, I compared my body to those I saw around me; actresses, singers, models, adverts. Even though I wasn't into fashion as such, I was aware that their body types were rarely an example of my body type. And I just wasn't into hair and make up and clothes the way many of my peers were, I just wanted to be comfortable, which for me meant keeping as much flesh as covered as possible.

And those hip stretchmarks bothered me more than I really realised at the time. There are probably zero photos of me wearing a swimsuit, though I did go swimming, even out at the beaches on the island (those of us raised in Scotland think little of putting on a swimsuit and jumping in the sea during almost 20 degree weather, it's summer damnit!) but I'd often wear boys' swim shorts over the top of my swimsuit, the better to cover up those chubby little thighs.

In my mid- to late-twenties, I gained a little more confidence. I started wearing dresses and feeling happier with the way I looked. Sure my bum could be smaller and my legs more shapely, but my nose is cute and I've got a pretty awesome chest in the right bra!

Surprisingly, this coincides with our fertility treatment. Once you start regularly undressing from the waist down and exposing yourself in front of a myriad of medical professionals, suddenly a bit of thigh flab doesn't seem like such a big deal anymore.

My journey to get pregnant has obviously shaped how I view my pregnancy with Baby Bo. After so long of thinking it would never happen, perhaps I see these changes in my body as just a little more miraculous than some mums-to-be might. I can't help but be amazed at the changing shape of my belly (even if the appearance of my belly button grosses me out more than I'd care to admit).

My breasts are doing weird and wonderful things, like changing colour and trying to leak a sticky sort of gel, but I'm cool with that, they're getting ready to feed my son. I could do without the constant up and down size changes as it's going to cost me a small fortune in bras at this rate. But I can feel happy about these changes, they don't seem to bother me as they might have in the past. Because it's all happening for a very good reason.

Roughly a month ago I took a shower at my in-laws' house where they have a big mirror in the bathroom and as I stood staring at my new body I couldn't help but feel proud of myself. So I did the natural thing and snapped a photo.

This is probably the most flesh I've shown in public (albeit virtually) since I was about ten!

I'm all pink and scrubbed from the shower. My hair is wet and unbrushed. My bra and pants don't actually match (but you weren't looking that closely, were you?)

And I feel absolutely gorgeous.

My body might have failed at being sporty, at allowing me to reach stuff on the top shelf in the kitchen, and actually getting pregnant without lots of physical, emotional and financial effort. But you know what? It's really got a handle on this baby growing business, and I've never felt so good about it before.

And as for the future?

I'm aware that in the next two months it's going to change again. My belly will go from being round and firm to soft, flabby and empty. My boobs will almost certainly have another growth spurt. I'll probably have stretchmarks, possibly new scars, and I'll be learning how to provide for a new little person myself rather than letting my perfectly capable body handle all the important stuff.

But I'm hoping I can see those upcoming changes as badges of honour, proof that together we did this, my body and I.

And hopefully I'll be able to continue to look in the mirror and feel fabulous.

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year everyone!

Hope you're all recovering from last night and are ready to face whatever 2018 decides to throw at us.

Amazingly, I stayed up for the bells, without even having an afternoon nap. I have gone on to sleep almost right through the night and only really woke up when Mr Click brought me my breakfast at 9am, and if you put me back to bed right now I'd probably sleep another good couple of hours.

Bo is obviously confused by my strange waking habits. I got a few good rib kicks at about 6am when he was clearly baffled by my return to bed after a loo trip, but barely a peep out of him since, aside from some little bum wiggles. He's only a very little guy and the excitement of his being in 2018 is a little too much for him.

I can't help but think back to this time last year. I got my period and so began frantically calling the hospital to get started on our final round of IVF. At the time we weren't openly calling it our final round, but we both kind of knew it was. It was our last NHS go and while there was the option of going private again, we had bought a new car so there wasn't really the prospect of paying privately until we'd finished paying for the car, and that wasn't likely to be for a couple of years.

We didn't really discuss it, but had last year's cycle not worked, we'd have had to make a really big decision about whether to throw more money at more treatment, or whether to accept the hand we were being dealt and try to move on workout any more IVF.

I'm so glad we've not got to make that decision. Ultimately we'll have to decide about using our frozen embryos (at £1000 plus meds per shot, so somewhere in the region of £2000+) and those little guys need to start paying rent this year (£250 per year storage costs) but at least for 2018 we have someone else to focus on, and aside from the storage bill, those things will be put off until 2019 at the earliest.

2018 is the year of Baby Bo.

Last year I kind of fell off the bullet journal wagon, thanks mostly to pregnancy exhaustion and then hyperemesis. But I'm picking it back up again now in the hopes of getting well organised for the baby coming.

Last year's word of the year was SUCCEED and my first three points on the list were:

• Successful IVF/ICSI
• Healthy baby in 2017
• Frozen embryos for the future

There were other items on the list, many of which I've failed at (knitting, writing and Welsh spring to mind), but those three were the most important points.

And I think I did succeed. I mean, okay, so Bo wasn't actually born in 2017 (thanks to his short stint in stasis), but he's been healthy for the duration of the year, so I think that counts for something.

Having a word of the year helped keep me focused and positive, even when it was tough to find something to be positive about. So I've selected a new word for 2018:

I'm going with GROW this year. I actually settled on this as my focus word way back in about September or October.

And the number one point on my list? Grow into my new role as a mother.

I'll let you know how that goes.

Merry Christmas from the Click Clan!

Hope you and yours have had a great day if you're celebrating today.

It's been fabulous here, but now I'm ready for bed (and I had a nap this afternoon)!

Silent Sunday: Bloated

Mini Mischief

Thank you for all the birthday messages! I'm still getting caught up on comments after the A to Z Challenge (hopefully I'll have made it as far as my Z post by the end of this month) but I have read all the comments on my birthday post. :-D

Obviously, I had a fantastic day. It was wonderfully relaxed, which was just what I needed. As I mentioned, there was a definite theme to the day; Knitting and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them so I decided to combine the two by knitting some fantastic beasts of my own.

Namely, my Mischief; Dodger, Fezziwig, Jingle and Pocket.

I started off with Mini!Fez because I had the perfect yarn for his fur and I also needed to get the hang of where I would need to change colours for my more complicated rats.

And I finished up with Mini!Pocket:

As Pocket is a Himalayan I had to work out how many rows I would need to do to get the colouring right on his nose and bum. I think I got his nose spot on but may have done a row too many on his backside.

Dodger and Jingle were a little tricky to get their eyes right on since they're black and they pretty much went invisible once they were sewn on. I had great fun sewing up Dodger's black stripe on his back, though I overdid the stuffing a little and he turned out bigger than Fezziwig!

It wasn't until after I'd got them all knitted and their tails sewn on that I realised that I'd basically spend the day knitting little rat-coloured tampons!

Oops!

Birthday Shopping

Last year on my birthday we headed to Dunoon as I was right in the middle of down regulation for our frozen embryo transfer and didn't feel like travelling too far afield. This year the down regulation for our current frozen transfer has started but we're not as far through it yet so we decided to follow our usual plan of heading to Oban for my birthday shopping trip.

Oban has a special place in our hearts as the first place Mr Click and I lived together (for a whole six weeks while I was on a teaching placement) was Appin and on a Friday or Saturday we would head into Oban for shopping and Chinese. I love the collection of charity shops there and we have our routine down to a fine art.

It meant a fairly early start for a Saturday (6am! Yikes!) and we headed off the top end by about 7:45am. We had planned to listen to music from Spotify I'd put onto my phone but we couldn't get the phone to connect to the car we were in, but we'd brought CDs so it was all good.

I love a good long car drive. We chatted, sang along to the music, admired the houses we were passing, kept an eye out for wildlife and tiny lambs. The journey was as much a part of the trip as the actual shopping expedition.

As usual we stopped off at a cafe when we arrived for a spot of breakfast (and after a one hour, forty-five minute drive, the loo) and then got down to the serious business of shopping. Often when I go charity shopping I'm heading out with a particular purchase in mind; new work tops, a particular book, board games, whatever. This time I didn't really have anything in particular other than a vague idea that I wanted to buy more knitting books.

Sadly, old knitting books were rather thin on the ground. There were a couple of old 1980s jumper books, which aren't my thing, and lots of odd patterns pulled out of magazines which were rather jumbled and none of them were especially 'vintage' or for toy patterns so I gave them all a miss.

I'd mentioned to Mr Click that I'd like to get some funny DVDs to watch after our frozen embryo transfer and we hit the big time in the first shop we went into with Pirates An Adventure With Scientists, The Tale of Despereaux, Miss Congeniality and Practical Magic. The latter two are old favourites that I've been wanting to pick up for ages.

I gathered a fairly impressive collection of books over the course of the day as well. I spotted The Life of Pi in one shop for about £2 and decided against if as I knew I'd be able to get the Kindle version cheaply, then found it in the last shop we went in to for 50p. I took that as a sign and grabbed a copy of it right away (along with two other cheapie books).

We also did a nice big shop to fill up our cupboards with goodies. Then headed back to Inveraray for sweets and takeaway to fortify us for the last leg of the homeward journey.

So now I've got to squeeze another seven books onto my bookcase (which I only rearranged a few weeks ago). But I had a brilliant day out and it was the perfect way to finish off my birthday.

Thirty-One

This time last week I was having a fantastic day celebrating my thirty-first birthday. It was a very good day and the beginning of a very good weekend.

Mr Click loves presents, regardless of whether they're his or someone else's. We'd set the alarm for 7am which I thought meant we'd have a leisurely wake up, breakfast and then do cards and presents. Mr Click had other ideas though so we did the cards and presents before breakfast.

Now I threw a slight spanner in the works the week before my birthday when I did that thing you really shouldn't do so close to a birthday. I bought myself stuff.

I wasn't expecting anyone to pay attention to my ramblings about knitting needles so treated myself to a set of the KnitPro Nova interchangeables, plus 3mm and 3.25mm needle tips to go with them. They arrived the Sunday before my birthday and are a thing of beauty:

But back to my birthday. There were two distinct themes between my presents; knitting and Fantastic Beasts. I'm actually thinking about buying a Niffler knitting pattern so I can combine the two!

Not pictured is the dreamcatcher that my Nan sent me, as it's currently hanging in my window, waiting for me to give it a nudge and set it spinning again.

I was already expecting the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them film. While the Hobbit films were coming out, each year I knew I would get the latest film on my birthday, so when Fantastic Beasts came out it seemed like the logical birthday follow on. What I wasn't expecting was a reproduction of Newt's notebook (going to need to find a really special use for that one) or the book which I had mentioned to Mr Click in passing about the making of the film not realising he was actually paying attention at the time!

My above mentioned knitting needle shopping spree sort of messed up my Mum's birthday plans for me, but she's awesome so she recovered well.

I've been collecting Jean Greenhowe's knitting pattern booklets for the last few years and I only had ten more left to get. My Mum sent me over half of the books I needed (I've since ordered the last four). I spent a very happy birthday afternoon organising them by date of publication. It's the little things that keep me amused. I fully intend to knit something from each pattern book and ultimately hope to knit EVERYTHING!

My in-laws were responsible for the Art of the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them book. I'm yet to explore this one but having skimmed through the artwork in there, it looks beautiful.

It was a lovely relaxed sort of day. We watched my new film, had homemade Chinese and I spent most of the day knitting. And that was just the first half of my birthday, the second part came when we went shopping at the weekend.

But more about that tomorrow.

How We Celebrate Mother's Day?

Mother's Day is a tricky day for people who are dealing with infertility. I'm sure that the male half of infertile couples struggles with the same sort of emotions on Father's Day, but Mother's Day seems like a bigger deal, somehow.

You only have to log onto Facebook to see photos of people sharing lovely messages about their own mums or their kids and it can't help but remind you of that slightly inadequate feeling. The feeling that everyone you know is a member of this club that you can't yet belong to.

Of course, we celebrated our own Mothers on Mother's Day. Mr Click and I procured cards and gifts (which I think went down pretty well). We hung out with Mr Click's Mum (and had a lovely dinner) and I called my Mum to say hi. It was a nice day.

But it's a little hard not to acknowledge that weird empty feeling the day can make you feel as well.

Mother's Day is around the time that 5BB would have been born, had it stuck. This year would've been my first Mother's Day as a Mum if we hadn't lost our twins, Olaf and Elsa. They would've been eight months old by now and even if they're not here, they were ever so briefly, so they should count, right?

We've also got nine potential babies on ice, we're gearing up to thaw one of those out but it's not been done yet. So I'm in a strange sort of limbo of Not-Mum but Almost-Mum.

Luckily my family know and love and understand how this might be a bit of a tricky day for me and so we celebrated in our own little way.

Mr Click ordered me my new Kindle. I had a Kindle already but it was getting a little geriatric and forgetful so a new one was very much appreciated. We'd hoped it would be here for Sunday, it didn't arrive until the next day, but I knew it was on the way.

My Mum sent me a lovely card:

And included a most appropriate gift:

'What do you give a mum who keeps her children in the freezer?'

Why, an ice pack of course!

So it was only natural that after lunch we went out for a suitably frozen embryo mum appropriate snack:

It was a good day.

Life Through A Lens

I don't normally say much about current events on the blog. That's not to say I don't pay attention to the News. I do. I devour it, from as many different sources as I can. I never used to be hugely interested in politics until a few years ago and now I'll pay as much attention to that as I used to pay to the Entertainment section as a teenager.

I don't usually bring it up on the blog, because this just isn't that sort of place. I talk about it in real life, I don't need to talk about it here.

But walking Tara yesterday, I was playing things round in my head, and I realised that there was something that I wanted to say, and my blog is as good a place as any for that.

Yesterday at work we watched the awful events unfolding at Westminster on Sky News. First there was the Breaking News banner which flashed up on the screen announcing that gunshots had been heard outside the Parliament building. Then there was some more information about a stabbing. Then the news about the car being used to attack people on Westminster Bridger.

We continued with our work, of course, but there was discussion of the events and we kept an eye on what the latest news was saying, trying make sense of what was going on.

Gradually the picture of the events came together and while we still didn't truly know or understand what was going on, the media gave us a sense that we were there in the event.

On the one hand, I think this was a useful thing. When big events like this happen, it's very easy for fact and rumours to get confused. I think that having the media on the ground, reporting events as they happen, is probably a good thing. Having multiple media outlets covering the same event means that you can switch between the different sources of information and get a different perspective, which is useful, especially if you're somewhat able to filter out the bias.

On the other hand, I have to disagree with the way that Sky News was reporting on the attack.

I don't know exactly when the image of the person lying on the ground, face blurred but body clearly in an unnatural position, lying where they had landed where they were thrown by the car, but it proceeded to be shown again and again over the course of the afternoon.

At first that was the only picture of a victim which they shared. Then later there was some blurry footage of a blurry shape lying on the road with some equally blurry people rushing towards them. Then a photo of a man in a suit, seated on the ground at Westminster Bridge; his face was blurred out but his hands, outstretched to the people around him, were bloody.

There was also the footage from the helicopter circling over the bridge. Down below tiny paramedics could be seen working on equally tiny shapes, manoeuvring them onto little trolleys and wheeling them towards ambulances.

And I couldn't watch it. It was macabre. When did other people's pain and suffering turn into a spectator sport?

I hurt for the people who were involved in the trauma of the event who would later find themselves splashed across newspapers and social media. For the people who might be turning on the TV because they knew a friend or relative was in the area, finding themselves squinting at a half blurred photo of someone they might know. For the people who could potentially learn from someone's photo on TV that a loved one is seriously injured.

And I couldn't help but be torn about who to get annoyed with. Sky News for showing these photos, or the people who see an awful scene like this and decide to whip out the camera.

I think it's wonderful that modern technology allows us to record our lives the way we do. I enjoy going places, safe in the knowledge that with one swipe of my phone I can snap a photo for posterity. I'm even aware that the police are asking members of the public to pass on any recordings or photos of what happened to help them build up a broader picture of just what went on. A digital recording is a whole lot more reliable than a human memory. I get that.

But I like to think that most of us, when faced with a person injured or bleeding on the ground, would think twice about pulling out that phone camera and taking a photo.

Sadly, yesterday's news demonstrated that there are more than a few people who don't share that attitude.

Word of the Year: Succeed

I thought I'd blogged about this before, but I've had a scan back through my past posts and it turns out that I didn't ever get around to it. Oops. This is why I should keep a record of what I'm blogging about. Anyway, I planned to blog about my alternative approach to New Year's Resolutions way back in January and I'm finally getting to it now. At least I'm still getting to it before halfway through the year!

Last year I noticed that a popular theme in the Bullet Journal community is to select a 'Word of the Year' to work towards. As someone who likes setting challenges for themselves, but struggles to stick with resolutions, this seemed like a good idea.

It's kind of tricky to find a word which you want to inspire you throughout the year. I wanted something which would resonate with me and I knew I wanted one which had a positive sort of feeling, but other than that, I wasn't sure which word would be the right one for me.

As it happened, my word came to me quite easily. I thought about the sorts of things that I wanted to happen in the coming year. The big one was the IVF treatment, I wanted that to be successful, obviously. I wanted to achieve certain things at work. I had some personal stuff I wanted to work on, like taking care of myself physically, mentally and emotionally.

The immediate word which sprang to mind for all of this was Success; since I wanted success in all these areas. It was after rolling this word around in my brain a little that I realised that perhaps Success was a little too passive, that's what happens afterwards rather than what I was working on.

Succeed seemed like the natural, active, version to work towards. Succeed felt like something I could do, rather than just sit and wait for. So that became my word for the year.

I've blurred out some of the text on the page above because some of the stuff I'm working on is kind of personal (ironic, I know, considering some of the stuff I share on this blog).

While I've not given myself any specific resolutions, I've highlighted some of the things I'm hoping to succeed in and made some notes on what that might look like, for example for IVF my notes look like this:

Successful IVF/ICSI

Healthy baby in 2017

Frozen embryos for the future

Three months into the year and I've already succeeded in one and a half of those! So far, so good.

I've set myself a couple of targets for work, but these just take the form of:

Set achievable targets at work

Achieve them

That's mainly because I'm using a similar approach in my work diary. I've put a big quote on the front page of my work diary and under January 1st I wrote down a similar list of areas I'd like to succeed in at work. I don't take my bullet journal into work so it seemed kind of pointless to duplicate those in this one.

I'm enjoying this approach because it's giving me measurable goals but they're a lot more flexible than a hard resolution. The most concrete targets are the ones I set for the IVF, others are a lot more general, like using colouring in to relax, or finish some knitting projects.

But you're probably wondering how just picking a word is going to change anything, well it's pretty simple.

Whenever I'm considering something, I try to ask myself 'will this help me succeed in [whatever area it would be classed as]?' It's not a foolproof method, but I do feel like it's changing the way I think about things.

So for example, when I was waiting to find out how our embryos were doing, I basically spend the full five days doing nothing but knitting. This probably wasn't the best way to spend my time, but in terms of my emotions and physical state at the time, this was exactly what I needed. I asked myself 'will this help me succeed in healing?' and the answer was most definitely yes!

Asking whether all that knitting was going to help me succeed with work or household stuff or my blog, the answer would probably have been no, but at that time the priority was focusing on myself so in the future I would be well enough to focus on all the other stuff.

And that's why it's helped change the way I think about things. Because whenever I'm considering my options in different areas I'm having to think about my priorities. And sometimes I'm coming to the realisation that something I thought was high on my list of priorities just isn't, and that's useful too.

Do you pick a word for the year? What's your focus this year?

Welcome To The Snot Factory!

I had big intentions of getting my next vlog recorded today, this one would be pretty short and would discuss my experiences so far of taking Metformin. I even charged up my camera ready to film!

Instead I've woken up today as a human snot factory (thanks to some kindly coworkers who think there's nothing nicer than sharing). I may still record a video at some point (if I can muster up the energy), in which case I'll probably have it up for Monday.

Don't hold your breath though, I'm currently typing this wearing my jammies and a cosy sweater, I'm braless and I've not bothered brushing my hair since I got out the bath. Just the sort of look that I want to have in a video I stick up on YouTube.

I do have sympathy though. Mr Click is being lovely and ran me a bath; Tara came up to keep me company when I got out; and Fez? Fez just gets it:

Vivid Dreaming

I'm not sure if it's the Metformin or if it's something else but recently I've been having the most crazy vivid dreams.

And they're too interesting not to share.

Monday night
I was back at my Halls of Residence, except they were in a different city and looked totally different. But I still knew it was my Halls. Somehow.

We'd not been there for about ten years, but loads of people who lived there at the same time as me were there too, and we were all picking up our stuff which they'd cleared out of our rooms. They'd piled it all up in the hallway and staircase so we could help ourselves to it, but it was really well packed together so pulling out one item would threaten to bring the whole lot down. Our rooms had already been reassigned to new people; I think mine was occupied by someone called Eilidh.

I managed to find my old printer (which wasn't even the one I had when I was at Uni). I got excited because, 'hey, this'll save me from buying a new one'.

After that I was just wanting to get away with all of my stuff, but the people from Halls were wanting to talk to me. We'd not seen each other in about a decade and several of them were saying that we'd have to meet up some time for a catch up, so I nodded along with them, but at the same time in my dream I was thinking 'we are never going to see each other again'.

Tuesday night
I was at work, except we were in a car park surrounded by houses and flats. We were all working in the car park, doing what we normally do at work.

I had a bit of a problem so I went to speak to my manager who was sitting on a raised platform in the centre of the car park.

It doesn't sound like much but it was really vivid and we had this weird sort of video messaging thing so we could see the people we were talking too. And it felt like a place I've been before, I just can't quite place it in my mind. It's been bugging me ever since.

Wednesday night
This was the most disturbing dream so far but also kind of funny at the same time (in hindsight).

I was in some sort of dark and scary place where there were all kinds of creepy people and things. There were demons or something and I had to walk through this maze of rooms and buildings to get to one specific one. I was given this weird belt which looked like it had been knitted in loopy stitch; as long as I was wearing that, I would be safe and not eaten by a vampire or anything.

Then I was taken out to this green where Pocket was in the small cage by himself and I realised that was why I was there; to pick up my rat who these people had taken. Except his back end and front end were moving around the cage independently of one another, kind of like the bit of Riley's nightmare in Inside Out:

But instead of being open, there were sort of metal discs there, presumably to keep his insides in.

I ended up joining him back together with a couple of magnets, but I was very upset because even though they were fastened together, there was still a join there.

When I woke up, even though I knew it was totally irrational and I knew the dream wasn't real, I still had to go and check up on him to make sure that Pocket was all in one piece. (You'll be pleased to know he was).

Do you remember your dreams? What're the weirdest dreams you've had?

IVF #3: Vlog #1

I've done it!

I've taken the plunge!

I'm officially vlogging now!

I've started it off with a little video just giving a potted history of our 'journey' so far. If you've followed the blog for the last couple of years, or know me in real life, this'll all be old news to you, but feel free to watch and comment.

It might look a bit ropey but I'm still getting the hang of it. The software I'm using is ancient and it's taken the better part of two days to get it accepting the file format my camera records in, but I'm learning and I think I know what I'm doing now.

I'm hoping to get my next video up (which I recorded immediately after this one) in the next few days. It basically details what went on at our appointment on Tuesday.

Christmas Eve, aka Happy Anniversary!

Since it's Christmas Eve, it also means that it's Mr Click and my anniversary. So it's time to trot out my old Christmas favourite.

This is the Jim Brickman and Wayne Brady Christmas version of Beautiful. It's our song.

Hope you all have a lovely Christmas Day tomorrow.

Dining Out

Last night about ten of us gathered at a local restaurant for a team meal out.

This one was slightly different from the last team gathering, mainly because it was just us, not loads of people from the company. It was a lot more informal as well; a jeans and t-shirt affair, rather than black tie and evening dress.

It's hard to say which I enjoyed more.

In terms of scale, the Awards Ceremony was quite obviously bigger and grander, but there was something very nice about a meal spent in the company of friends and colleagues, in our own little room at the restaurant.

The room we were in was at the other end of the restaurant from the specials board. Since everyone was wondering what was on it, and I wasn't able to memorise its contents when I wandered down to look at it, I took a photo to share with everyone. There were several people already eating beside the board so I'm fairly certain I baffled them with my choice of photograph.

I also think one couple in particular were a little worried that I was taking their photo while they were eating. Oops.

Almost everyone had steak, which prompted someone to ask me whether I was vegetarian when my wild mushroom penne pasta showed up at the table. I'm not, but as that was my main course, after a button mushroom in garlic sauce starter, I replied 'no, but tonight I am'.

This restaurant also does a nice little desert option. It's called a share platter and you get a small sample of various different puddings; I split one with my team leader and enjoyed some lemon posset, a slice of cheesecake and a mini marshmallow muffin.

And I wound up drinking champagne, again. That's twice in six weeks. Actually I had about half a glass of champagne and half a glass of orange juice and lemonade. Then someone had the bright idea to top up the latter with what was left of my champagne. It tasted surprisingly nice.

Other drinks I sampled (just a sip, honest) last night... a locally brewed beer (which was really nice and I'm not a beer drinker) and Guinness with champagne in it (which is nicer than it sounds, honestly).

We hopefully have another get together in the future and I'm quite looking forward to it. I'm hardly a social butterfly, but there's something very nice about getting out for some drinks and a meal. And when you've got good company, it's even better.

Out to Dinner

Jeez! When did I get such a busy social life?! This is three social engagements in the last two months, not like me at all!

So yeah, that's why there's no proper blog post today. I'm off being a social butterfly. Again.

I'm going to need the weekend to recover from this.

There's going to be champagne (again) but alas, no fireworks as far as I can tell (so no being a lush and drinking the stuff straight out the bottle this time, we'll be in a restaurant so I'll be using a glass).

Normal service will resume next week.

\Just a crappy photo from my September night out, not the actual glass I'll be drinking champagne from tonight!

How are you spending your Friday night?

What's your Patronus?

There's a bug going round the island at the moment and I seem to have picked it up. Yay!

Not.

I'll spare you the details but I'm feeling kind of rotten, so to take my mind off it I'm inviting you to share your Patronus.

A Patronus is a sort of protector in the Harry Potter series which is cast with the spell Expecto Patronum. It takes the form of an animal and in order to produce it you must summon your happiest memory. They're supposed to help ward off Dementors but I like to think that they'd also help you feel better when you're under the weather.

When Pottermore opened up the option to find your Patronus I jumped at it. I've been waiting to find out mine for years.

I've always imagined that perhaps I would have some sort of dog so I was a little surprised to get my result on the site:

I know some people were really disappointed with their results. I think I would've been too if I'd always seen myself as a ferocious big cat and I wound up with a salmon. But as far as Patronuses (Patronii?) go, a sparrowhark is pretty cool (apart from the whole snatching little birds out of the air thing).

Ironically, the day after I got this, my boss came over to show me photos of and tell me about the sparrowhawk he'd photographed at the castle the day before. Must be a sign.

So tell me, what's your Patronus?