My Donor sais that the South Africa that I love and fantasize about is not the same. He says I am living in a little dream world based on my life 'then', and not on the reality of 'now'. Reality now, is that a wave of Xenophobic mania has taken over the country, two weeks of national bloodshed, 56 foreigners dead and thousands displaced and yet more shame cast over a once hopeful nation.

Our minds work in funny ways, I was trying so hard NOT to obsess about my current countdown, so I am obsessing about other things, sensitive issues, sad issues.

I irritated and embarrased my brother for about the first 25 years of my life. He was the golden-boy, and I was the rebellious hippy-child. We really had no relationship, I was on my planet, and he on his. No amount of head-banging, tying us together or locking us in the same room could have fixed it. We needed maturity to 'find' each other, and thankfully we did.

This was a draft Blog from whenever ago. How things have changed, my brother has not spoken to me for forever, he resents me for whatever reason, doesn't speak to me, and has totally cut me out of his life.

I need to be whole in the realization that the problems lie within HIM and not ME, and that is a hard journey to make.

I never thought this would happen. Never.

coulda, woulda, shoulda

It was 2am this morning and I couldn't sleep, again. The silence and solitude is all-consuming at that hour. Thoughts racing, and a thousand Blogs composing. The 'could haves', the 'would haves' and the 'should haves'.

I need words. I use words, I talk, I express, I analyse, I emote. This self-imposed black-out is good on one hand as I don't obsess too much, but on the other, I need this outlet, I need my words.

Now I play the waiting game, alone. Without my 'words' to help me through.

One of the 'could haves'(from the wee-hours this morning):

My parents always named things. Cute names were always thought up for new pets, new businesses (even if only in their minds), new ventures. That is their game. My mother had a pregnancy 'scare' when my brother and I were just pre-teens or somewhere around there. The possible unborn infant was duly named. If it was a boy it would be called Storm Keswick; and a girl, Jessica Wren. I spent hours, days, and maybe a week or two playing with my 'imaginery' sibling, dreaming up adventures, games, and fantasizing about the possibilities. She wasn't pregnant. And I was sad. They were so real to me. Even for that short time.

Reflections

This time last Birthday I was licking some serious wounds.

I was alone, I was miserable and I had just miscarried. I knew I would be fine. I am the grown-up. I worried more about the children, their trauma of experiencing first-hand, a South African-style armed robbery. Their loss of both their innocence and the only life they knew. Those 45 minutes on that Monday morning changed everything. New country, new life, new friends. Adapting, comparing, learning, surviving. Witnessing the transition in Adam from being the shy, insecure and scared little boy in those first days at his new school, to the boy soon after that everyone wanted to play with, sit next to and be friends with. And Noam, always smiling, outgoing, confident: before and after. Everything happens for a reason, and with our loss of South Africa, we also gained Israel.


And me. A year later. A Birthday later. I have a lot to be proud of. I survived the Summer, and the very mild Winter, I survived without a pool, I survived more failed IVF attempts, I survived being a mostly single parent, I survived being the maid/gardener/baby-sitter. I survived without my friends and family, who, without them, I probrably would not have had the tools to cope.

I still feel that my head is 'just above' water, but I don't feel like I am drowning anymore.

This time last year I was not the happiest camper.

Happy `birthday to me.

Its' my Birthday, it is officially the 12th of May!!!! It is 12.55 am and I have just got my Birthday present from the Donor. It felt only right to use my present to post this Blog. I got a APPLE MACBOOK !!!!!!!!!!!!! Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!! How cooooool is my Donor!!!!!!!

This past week has flown past in a haze of hysteria. Israels' 60th Birthday was celebrated in usual loud and proud Israeli-style. Every minute of this past holiday was spent barbecue-ing and more barbecue-ing. Eating, friends, fun and celebration of this miracle little Jewish state.

We got away this past weekend, we went with dear friends to the Golan Heights, on the Syrian/Lebanese border. What a beautiful beautiful place, all I heard this past Shabbat - all day - was birds singing and horses neighing. The veiw was of the Galillee, the company was great, the children were dirty and we were all in a mini little -rural bubble dream world. It all came to an abrupt end when I smashed my ankle into the corner of a metal flower pot, we waited for Shabbat to end, packed (me hobbling and moaning) and set off back home. It is a 2 and a half hour drive so we only got home around 11.30, me still hobbling and moaning. The Donor and I then spent the entire morning today dealing with the Israels National Health Insurance System. In laymans' terms this just means waiting, waiting and more waiting. And then finally dealing with a Orthopedic Surgeon who does not speak English. Apparently there is nothing broken or even fractured, I am still finding this hard to believe as I hobble and hop around the house. One word. Arnica. Needless to say I feel like a complete idiot that I wasted everybody's time.

After returning home from the joys of the National Health Insurance, we found our beloved Labrador with a gash in his back. This could only have been due to some kind of Divine Intervention as we cannot fathom how, or when this could have happened. He now has two stitches and some funky -non-scratching silver stuff on the wound.

Did I mention that I got a APPLE MACBOOK?????????????????

I wonder how different I am today than what I was 20 years ago. I still feel like a 15 year old, except I am going grey, have wrinkles (smile/character lines - whatever), have two children and have had the same partner (now husband) for 14 years.

Recently a friend from all those years ago contacted me, which got me thinking. Would we still like each other if we met now 20 years on? What would we have in common now. Then, she made me laugh, we liked boys, and liked sneaking cigarettes. But now, I wonder. I also wonder how much I must have changed, I don't even remember who I was at 15, was I anything, or was I really just still trying to figure it all out. And I am still trying to figure it all out.

I found myself thinking back to such far-away memories, funny, happy and some sad.

I wouldn't want to be 15 again for anything. I do truly love the way my life has turned out, but it is still quite staggering to realise that in a blink of an eye, I have got old. It just happened so quickly, too quickly.

Spring Break

The Donor is back, Pesach is but a memory and School Holidays are over.

I went for my check-up with Profman, I walked in, all confident and shiny; and walked out totally deflated. I thought that with my new-found post-operative fertile self that there was going to be no looking back. I thought I had it all figured out, full-speed-ahead to my Frozen Five. My 'worst-case' scenario was going to be CLOMID (ovulation inducing pills). What a joke!

I am not really good at 'making long stories short', but here goes anyway.

1. Due to my current 'status', I have a 5% chance of falling pregnant naturally.
2. If I choose to go with a Gonal F/Menogon-IUI cycle (Follicle Stimulating Hormone with sperm injected directly), my chances jump to 10%. The problem with this is that only the follicles from the healthy RHS would stand a chance, so automatically my chances are halved.
3. A Frozen Embryo Transfer is a bit dodgy as the survival rates after defrosting are not great, and generally frozen embryos are used for a 'rainy day'/last resort scenario. Basically for when I have run out of all other options. Success rates are 15%.
4. With IVF I would have a 25% chance for success. Eggs generated from both right and left sides would be used/fertilised, and those not used would then join the Frozen Five.

I have two major factors against me. Firstly age, from 35 years of age, egg quality and quantity rapidly decrease. Secondly, Ovarian Reserve, this is the amount of healthy eggs that I have left at my disposal. Every single month this decreases, and because I have not responded brilliantly to the past two IVF's my Ovarian Reserve is questionable.

Also, my new resolve (from a while back) was to NOT be so forthcoming with information about myself, ie 'the reproductively-challenged me-info'. I am going to try and put this into practice now. So I have decided to have a "news black-out". No more information. No more endless babbling about injections, Progesterone/E2 levels, hormones, ultrasounds, follicles, etc., etc. The more I talk/write about it, the more I obsess about it all. This time I am going to do it differently. This time it's going to be just Me, Myself and I(and maybe a Mom, oh, and the Donor).

Here's hoping that when next I discuss my two ovaries, one fallopian tube, womb, or anything else connected to my vagina will be in about 3/4/5/6 months to say that I have finally finally made it. Until then, if anyone asks, I am taking a breather, on Spring Break, letting 'nature take its' course', blah blah.