Month: Sep 2022

No one to send to school

It is the first Monday in September. 

On social media there are photos of children in their clean and ironed school uniforms. They are standing still for the first photo of the new school year. There are remarks about how time has flown and how much has changed in one year. 

I’ve never noticed it before but today was unreal. Photo after photo. And then there’s me excited to be travelling again soon. It made me feel like travel is our baby. That with others around me chatter revolves around children and babies and with us it is what country or city is next. Is travel a distraction? Is that all it has ever been?

That may sound dramatic but when you start feeling like something is missing in your life you ultimately look back at choices to see if things could have been different. The truth is that no, travel, although an escape in my late teens/early twenties, is one of the greatest joys in my life today. It makes me strong, confident and the best version of myself. I am grateful to be able to still go out into the world as much as we do now and to have Mr W with me. 

Today I started feeling really guilty about the time I have spent travelling instead of finding a way to deal with my fertility issues. Hey guess what, if you had a baby six years ago, you’d be sending a child off to school today. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. But again, you question everything in your life when you are feeling particularly sad. What could I have done differently? Nothing. 

And that’s the truth. 

I hope when the day comes that I’ll show my child the picture of me in my uniform and tell them about my school days. I hope to take the picture of them on the doorstep as they take the leap into their scholastic life. One day I hope to share that photo with the people around me who have waited just as long as me to see it. 

For now I have no one to send to school. So I take the joy in the things I do have instead of those I don’t. I want to be mentally healthy for the baby I will one day hold in my arms. 

Because they care

Today I donned a blue dress. I’m not a fan of blue but it was a special occasion. 

A baby shower for my cousin. She is having a little boy. 

Hence the blue.  

The balloons were hung with care. The sandwich platters laid out just so. The sun even made an appearance. Do I like baby showers? Yes. Do I find them difficult? Also yes. 

It’s a reason to eat party food, which are just little bite sized morsels of foods of your own choosing, get together with loved ones and a chance to celebrate the future. Someone in your life is happy and therefore sharing that happiness is only natural. 

Today was no different. There was chatter and laughter. Quizzes and games. The games had us guessing the weight, name and arrival date of the baby boy. Even though when the event was announced I had been apprehensive about going, I didn’t feel anxious or upset by being there. By having time to prepare over the last few months, my feelings of insecurity around our own fertility was put on the backburner and I sat for hours with family enjoying the time together. 

As people slowly drifted out of the door to travel home, Mr W and I sat with my cousin’s wife and thier baby while the gazebos came down and the empty plates were tidied away. Baby Grace is 5 months old and so far I’ve managed to avoid the cuddles. It has to be said she is the smiliest baby with the most adorable chubby cheeks and so my trepidation about cuddles has nothing to do with her. I’m just very aware of being around baby’s and how it can affect my mental health. Nothing like a baby being in your arms to remind you that you don’t have one of your own. And then, she was in my arms. I didn’t crumble but by now my poker face is my real face. I’m getting pretty good at it. 

After everyone but us had left we stayed behind to chat. My Aunt got upset and said she wondered how on earth I had coped. Despite my insistence that I was fine she got really upset on behalf and it took a while to calm her down. In all honesty I hadn’t really felt sad until that moment. Like I said before, the time to mentally prepare for the day had helped a great amount. I was not however prepared to help someone who was sad for me. 

It is a difficult path to tread when struggling with fertility. If you keep it close to your chest you end up feeling alone. There is also the odd occasion when and if someone asks what the situation is that you’ll both feel awkward for needing to discuss it. Alternatively if you do tell those around you what’s going on, you open up the can of proverbial worms which can wriggle around at any moment. They should feel comfortable to ask how things are going whenever they want to. Unfortunately it can catch you at a time when you are quite happy ignoring the situation. It then brings the whole issue to the forefront out of the blue. 

So what’s the happy medium? How do we tell people so they are in the know and yet not have to talk about it when it’s the right time for them? There is now how. You can’t control it. You can perhaps ask to talk about it another time. But what if it’s a reaction like I had today, the sadness of tears. It almost feels strange to sit there consoling someone who is sad for yourself. I’ve thought about it a lot. Would I rather no one know? No, been there done that. Would I rather talk about it all the time? No. I need space from this reality from time to time. 

So what is the answer?    

Ultimately I don’t think there is one. I think as honest as we have been about our struggle is just how honest we have to be about our feelings when approached to talk about it. If today was a day I needed to ignore my feelings then so be it. If someone else gets upset I need to understand that too. If I need to scream I will. If we aren’t in the place to talk it is okay to say so. It all comes back to being honest and open. It’s the only way to be kind to ourselves. We told others to share a part of ourselves that is hurting. They ask because they care. 

Photo by Dave Watson
Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

The Dirty Ones

Mud. That’s how a relationship started. A relationship that in the blink of an eye has become strong and supportive. It has seen a wedding and two births. Homes have been built and friendships have grown. All from mud.

In 2016 we moved into this house. The garden was a nightmare. Decking covered 70% of the ground and gravel covered the rest. On the decking was a huge greenhouse littered with pots and trays. The only greenery was an old castor oil plant that was sandwiched between a fence and water butt. Tell a lie, some of the odd pots that were dotted around the place had caught the odd seed from the wind and grown weeds. As someone who grew up with a huge and manicured garden I was determined to transform this concrete tip into something to be proud of.

Within a fortnight of moving in Mr W and I dismantled the greenhouse with care and removed a third of the decking. We had decided to keep the decking at the rear of the garden and turn it into a terrace for entertaining and evening meals. The decking directly outside the backdoor was perfect as a sun terrace and would also stay. So it was the portion in the middle that faced the chop and after Mr W had hilariously tried two ramshackle chainsaws on the structure, he bought a circular saw and we said goodbye to the dominating monstrosity. Underneath there was a sunken pond which caused its own issues. Within the two thick pond liners I found: an old computer monitor, a dismantled chest of drawers, lots of electrical wires, a lamp and years upon years of algae, fish shit and rain water. Imagine me, elbow deep pulling all these things out of the depths! Once emptied the void left was enormous and I spent a full day as Fred Flintstone smashing up concrete slabs from around the garden to fill the hole. Then I collected all the various sized pebbles around the garden and dumped them in. After this Mr W and I raked all the gravel into the rocky pit.

It became evident really quickly that we needed soil to level the space and as new homeowners we were keen to keep costs down, hell so far we had changed the garden with just one purchase and pure willpower. With that in mind I took to the internet to see if anyone had soil up for grabs. Thinking there was a slim chance, I fell into the realm of Gumtree for the first time. Not knowing what else to do I typed the word ‘dirt’ into the search bar. Up popped just that. 2.3 miles away!

I replied to the advert and the girl and I discussed the details. They were digging a few feet out of their garden and the dirt was free for collection. After a few delays we made a plan to pop by one evening after work for a few bags of the much needed soil. As we drove around the new neighbourhood, Mr W commented how it looked familiar. I couldn’t fathom how, he’d never been to this neck of the woods in his life. The closer we got, the more adamant he became. He knew this place. This place being the girl’s home.

After knocking on the door and being greeted by the girl’s partner we mentioned how the house seemed so familiar. Upon closer inspection I had realised the same. The guy invited us inside and to our astonishment we realised we had, just a few months earlier, wanted to buy the property. We weren’t quite ready with a deposit and had therefore let it go. And now here we were, taking the soil from the very same property for our new home. Explaining this to the two strangers we all stood in disbelief before realising we were there for a purpose.

Lined up against the house were sacks of soil. Heavy, yet crucial, we piled them into the car with thanks and drove home. That night and over the next few weeks the girl and I sent messages arranging more collections and spoke more about our lives. Being of a similar age and new homeowners made finding a common ground really easy. But we also had similar interests and senses of humour. After a few more soil pick ups we came to the point where the garden was levelled and the last pick up was on the cards. When we left with our final bounty, Mr W turned to me and said ‘Do you think we’ll stay in contact?’

That is called a turning point. On returning home we used the squeaky wheelbarrow to cart the soil to our garden over twigs and stones for the final time. I sent a message to thank the gumtree couple and asked if they would like to get together for a drink one evening. We then made a date for a meet up and talked the entire night away. That was over 6 years ago. We have become entwined in each other’s lives ever since. The guy has helped us countless times with car troubles. The girl has become my confidant. 4 years ago they joined us on our stag and hen do’s and then joined us on our wedding day. The girl read out a Pablo Neruda poem at our ceremony. The guy calmed me down as we departed for our honeymoon when I couldn’t find my handbag and wedding gift for Mr W, he stopped me and said ‘what does he need a gift for when he’s just married you.’ Sob! We have watched them become parents to two amazing boys and they have listened to our fertility troubles. We each cackle at the others jokes and build each other up in times of low confidence.

The best thing about them is how we have only ever known each other as couples. Our stories began together. There are strong individual relationships between us all and together we are a strong unit. Mr W is able to talk to the girl about business and office ethics while the guy and I can chatter non stop. There is no man/woman divide in this friendship. It is just comfortable.

The girl shares her name with another of my school friends. So I have had to tack on a nickname when differentiating between the two when I speak to my family or friends. When I utter her name, a look passes over the face of the listener. At first it’s a shock at the name and then it’s a smirk. You just know they are wondering why she is called that. And you KNOW in their mind they are coming up with their own reasoning. Is she really? And what did she do to get ‘that’ name?

The story I tell them doesn’t quench their spicy minds but it’s still a surprise to them about how pieces fell into place. They are getting married next year and we’ll be witness to the whole day. As the day draws closer, the idea of us meeting their friends and family was formed. Massively nervous we turned up and spent the best 6 hours with the nicest people you’ll ever meet. We all cackled and joked and left with our cheeks hurting. When we arrived, the girl’s stepdad said ‘Oh so you’re the Dirty two.’ Mr W and I looked at each other in astonishment. How were we known as that? No! They were called the Dirty two. Not us! They always had been. Dirty Jade and Martin. And therein started the story again.

I am so proud of this relationship. It has become well established and greatly cared for in our lives. We share our lives so freely. We spend the odd weekend in comfy clothes chowing down before watching trashy Saturday night TV with the kids. We each cook and contribute to meals. At Christmas we celebrate with each other early so we can spend the time our friendship deserves.

Much like the dirt we used to bring our garden to life, the relationship we have now is nurtured and looked after with love and care. From dirt came something organic and strong that over time has blossomed into something truly beautiful.

Sydney Harbour Bridge

Looking down through the enormous structure I saw the cars speeding by. Below these the harbour of Sydney glittered in the sunlight. If I thought about the bridge’s height I may have not walked its arch to its summit. But I did.

The Sydney Harbour bridge stands at 440 feet high from the waters level and stretches 160 feet across the harbour itself. The steel of the bridge weighs over 52,000 tonnes and has four gigantic concrete pillars to support its massive size. Just another walk in the park eh?

In February 2013, my mum and I undertook a mammoth trip to Australia and our last stop was Sydney. Wandering the city meant constantly being in the shadow of the skyscrapers but out on the harbours you really felt the fresh air return to your lungs. We spent a lot of time wandering the harbour and exploring the beaches by ferry and bus. It was so intricate with its coves and tree and rock dotted cliffs that it was hard to turn away from. The islands of the harbour itself were stunning and for a few hours we whiled away our time on Shark Island, just the two of us. As the only visitors we were the king of our own castle and it felt very strange to be on such a small piece of land in one of the most known harbours in the entire world. 

Sydney has many jewels in her crown and yet no one can deny the alluring pull of the Harbour bridge. Seeing in the New Year before many of us it is the emblem of future celebrations. Climbing the bridge began in 1988 and now it was our turn. 

Nervous about a new and potentially physically tiring experience, we approached the offices for our time slot. The guys leading the walk were so friendly and enthusiastic it was hard to find time to be scared. These guys literally put you through the paces by bringing out a replica staircase for you to practise your moves on. You need to practise in order to get used to the belt and harness you wear that is attached to the static line on the bridge that keeps you safe. Connecting points of the static line require the climber to tug slightly on the ball mechanism that otherwise glides on its way. With a few staircases to navigate, and all at different heights within the bridge, they want everyone to feel as comfortable as possible and therein the rehearsal makes sense. Practise makes perfect and all that.

Next came the styling. Standing around with our group, the ‘dude’ in charge gathered our climbing outfits and said it would be wise to keep just our underwear on underneath. Intrigued, we took the offerings of clothing and stepped into the makeshift dressing rooms. The material of the climbing attire reminded me of the shell suits I have seen in 80’s movies and I wondered how my body would fare in the midday heat. The ankle and wrist cuffs were elasticated and gathered in. I wondered if my shell suit would become a sweat suit. Thinking that climbing the bridge was hardly a fashion parade made wearing the blue and grey suits a tad easier. A tad. To keep items from dropping to the road below, our hats, sunglasses, sweat cloth and earphones were all attached to the clothing. It all felt very technical. 

The lead was taken by a member of staff who was able to talk us through the walk with his mouthpiece that transmitted to our walkie talkie style set ups. We emerged from the training area onto the steels of the inner bridge. Attached to it securely gave reason to relax. Focus at first was on the left right left right march of our feet until we were told a duck and step over was needed. A steel girder blocked the way ahead for both feet and head. And you therefore have to take a large step over while ducking your head under. The man in front of me turned to say something to his companion and hit his head clear into the steel beam. The ‘dong’ sound rang out dull and loud under the roadway. 

The climb itself passes without much trouble. Even the steps up and over the bridge are not enough trouble to be called taxing. They are very shallow steps which makes the whole process that much easier. It is a shame you cannot take a camera with you as every step warrants a snap of the lens. 

As you reach the top of the bridge you are graced with the wind sent by the gods to cool down your slick body. Assumptions were right, in those suits, there is no place for sweat to escape. At the top you are given enough time to pause. And what a reason to pause in life. High above the cars, boats and water of this powerhouse of a city you are an ant. An ant with the most incredible sweeping views. The harbour stretches to the Tasmanian sea and beyond. Ferries moor up beside cruise ships. People look up at you from the shadows of the Opera House and Mrs Macquaries chair. 

It is a strange feeling to behold the world from such an icon. You feel both insignificant and important all at the same time. Insignificant due to its dominance against your own in this world and important enough to be allowed to straddle its history and power. You quite literally feel on top of the world. 

At first you don’t accept that you have done it, but when you cross the middle of the bridge and start your descent, you realise it is over. That thing you were most nervous about was amazing and you’d, quite frankly, do it again in a heartbeat. On the descent, you find you have to go down a staircase backwards, watching the others go first shows you just what pace to take and your nerves are beaten. As you reach the top, a bottle of water is poured behind a whirring fan and its drenching, coolness brings your face back to life. It was not 15 minutes ago when the wind froze the smile on your face as you posed for the photographer at the bridge’s highest point. The smile has been there since. 

The climb was everything you hadn’t expected. It was so much more in every single way. 

Work it out – take six and seven

Happy September! This is the month we go on our huge road trip. Eeeee!

Tonight has been busy, busy, busy. This isn’t going to be a travel blog (boo’s from the audience). But this is a simple update about the weight lifting workouts I’ve been doing with help from Mr W.

Tuesday’s workout was not great, I managed 3 of the 5 sets as I had hurt my back. The workout took a long time as I needed help up from the bench and was very slow with the repetitions. 

Today was a different story. 

My brother gifted us a 10kg kettlebell and it has changed my squat game. Resting the bar on my shoulders was just hurting the top of my spine so much. I think it is something to do with my arms keeping my body centred when I’m holding the bell that is really helping too. Unfortunately it only weighs 10kg and I was squating with the bar and weights at 9kg so it’s a tiny bit more but will soon feel like nothing. BUT my legs are still feeling the burn so next week I think it would be a good idea to stick with the 10kg kettlebell but do more reps. Who knows. This is all new to me. And as I said to Mr W today I do find it boring sometimes, but this week where I’ve not felt 100% I’ve just wanted to finish it. 

Squats 

5 x 10kg

Mr W’s set

5 x 10kg

Mr W’s set

5 x 10kg

Mr W’s set

5 x 10kg

Mr W’s set

5 x 10kg

Mr W’s set

This is where things got interesting. Mr W actually witnessed how uncoordinated my arms are. My right is so much stronger than my left and as I progress through the set I try to adjust and the bar will wobble side to side. I’m going to keep an eye on this and see if we can adjust this as we go along. But we did up the weight today for my bench press and it was good to up the challenge. It didn’t feel too strenuous so on the last set I pushed on to see how far I could go. The weight on the bar is now up to a total of 15kg now so I’m well chuffed. The first workout was 2 weeks ago today and I have doubled (plus some) on my bench press. So mini celebration for me!

5 x 15kg

Mr W’s set

5 x 15kg

Mr W’s set

5 x 15kg

Mr W’s set

5 x 15kg

Mr W’s set

9 x 15kg

Mr W’s set

Mr W has said that my deadlifts have seemed way too easy in previous sessions, so he left his weights on today and wanted me to try. A total weight of 19kgs seemed mad. But I actually did it. He has told me that to feel the benefits you need to squeeze your core? I can’t help but laugh, all I could squeeze was my bum. So that’s a success for weight training and some knickers to eat for my bum!

5 x 19kg

Mr W’s set

5 x 19kg

Mr W’s set

5 x 19kg

Mr W’s set

5 x 19kg

Mr W’s set

9 x 19kg

Mr W’s set

This is where I surprised myself, the overhead barbell press still makes me nervous. Something about a weighted metal pole above your head and it crashing down might be it. But we kept the 15kgs on. I actually managed it! And I went above and beyond on the last two sets too. But even typing this now I can feel it in my arms, so there’s proof it is working!

5 x 15kg

Mr W’s set

5 x 15kg

Mr W’s set

5 x 15kg

Mr W’s set

6 x 15kg

Mr W’s set

9 x 15kg

Mr W’s set

I must admit I really like the ‘row’ lift and wasn’t able to do it Tuesday. We ramped up the weight today and even though I couldn’t keep up the reps after the good start I am really happy with pushing myself. Next time I’m going to build up the reps from 5, to 7 and then see how it goes. At least then there won’t be a decline. As you can see from today, I started with 10 and then reached 12 and by the fourth and fifth set I could barely do 9. So I will try next time to build it slowly. 

10 x 15kg

Mr W’s set

12 x 15kg

Mr W’s set

11 x 15kg

Mr W’s set

9.5 x 15kg

Mr W’s set

9 x 15kg

Mr W’s set

So for someone who has been finding the workouts boring I was really chuffed by today’s challenges. Mr W suggested that the last repetitions of the set we should try and push ourselves. Keep ‘going until you fail’ to just make it more interesting. So that will be interesting. He also said he had been reading up on PCOS and how these low impact types of workouts are so much more beneficial than cardio workouts. I’ve discussed this before here and just knowing he has taken it on himself to look has made all the difference. If you are reading this and have PCOS you know how important it is to feel understood so make sure you surround yourselves with those that care and are willing to understand. 

To those that are reading this to see what it’s like as a bigger girl. I wholeheartedly say go for it. You are in control. You say how many repetitions and how much weight. You can change weights when you feel comfortable. The most important thing is whether you enjoy it. Movement doesn’t have to be a bastard or a chore. You got this!