I skipped Spanish today and went for a walk around the town. The idea of facing my classmates and all their 'keeness' was too much. It felt good, like calling in sick for work, slightly guilty but I enjoyed every second. Window shopping for leather boots. Usually I would nip to Primark and buy a pair of crap vinyl jobs and not think much about it. Now I'm unemployed, clothing and footwear needs to be more durable and it's quite refreshing not to consider whether stuff is 'in' and without trashy magazines to whet my appetite, my wardrobe is a quarter of the size it used to be. I like it this way.
I painted for a few hours until my eyes hurt and I realised I hadn't eaten for 7 hours. A good day.

Acupunture without subtitles

So as I now live in South America and have yet to put more then two Spanish words together, I'm limited in my choices of hairdresser, doctor and acupuncturist. After a search on the expats website and some whiny responses from a few discontented yanks I found a very enthusiastic lady a few miles from my flat called Dr B, who like me, speaks fluent Spanglish.
Dr B is very busy and reckons acupuncture is contraindicated post ovulation so I'm limited to one treatment a month. This is my second. I'm not sure Dr B fully understands me but I get my point across, for her to lance her needles in the right spot. She does like to remind me that her daughter is 10 whole years younger than me and already trying for baby number two though I'm sure it's not meant with any malice. After waving a funny metal rod above my head, Dr B thinks I am "in better 'armony" and feel something so fingers crossed, it's all worth it. I pay her the equivalent to £12 and leave. On the way out of her smart 6th floor apartment she talks about my future baby, rather like the imaginary baby of my dreams. Dr B says the baby won't come if I'm crazy, moving across the world, living in crap flat etc...well I said "I'm moving...somewhere lovely!", Dr B was not impressed that we only have one bedroom in the new place.
Anyway, I feel happier this month, even though I'm none the wiser about my chances of conceiving. Things are more in perspective. On the way home I wonder about the imaginary future baby and if it did exist and had a choice would IT think I'm ready...we're ready?

Dreams of infertility...last minute panic

I have a reoccurring dream where I have a baby but I've left it somewhere, in my handbag, the supermarket or the pub and I spend the rest of the dream trying to find it as it gradually gets smaller and smaller. I had always attributed these nightmares to a feeling of overwhelming responsibility (my job perhaps) after a bit of DIY dream analysis. These past few months the baby is bigger, often a baby boy with colourful clothes and hair and it has it's own smell too.
I recently read about a lady who had a terrible car accident. While emergency services set about cutting her free from the tangled mess she heard and saw a child, calling to her, telling her it wasn't time to die yet as there was a new life around the corner. Months later she discovered she was pregnant.
I'm not sure why this dream is becoming more vivid but these days I wake with a pang of guilt and a wave of nausea. It's the same feeling as knowing I have left an important assignment to the last minute and it's too late for an extension. A feeling of loss of control, on trial as though someone somewhere is about to determine my fate and that person/thing/whatever is shaking it's head and looking very disappointed indeed.
I suppose I'm waiting for nature to take it's course and I'm acutely aware that waiting until my mid 30's to try and conceive is not as nature intended.

Trying to conceive websites...one month ban.

So this month is no different from any other and I'm trying not to get stressed about the whole 'baby thing'. Wondering on a daily basis whether or not I am ovulating. The plan this month is to stay away from websites. You know the ones....where women BD/DTD with DH/OH and wait for AF or BFP. It's sites like these that prompted me to post my thoughts on this blog. It's not just the bizare language like 'Aunt Flo' that makes me think I don't fit in. I posted a few months back about annovulation and had some really thoughtful replies from a few 20 something's saying 'it happens some months', which left me feeling old and wondering how many fertile months I had left. I promptly joined the 'over 35' group. Here I received equally kind and supportive responses from women my age, about a recent suspected miscarriage, only to discover they were trying to conceive baby number 2, 3 or 4 and I felt a sharp reminder that I was not a Mum at all. I can empathise with how painful it can be for anyone trying to conceive without success, it's just for some reason I don't feel 'I'm in the same boat' as everyone else.