My heart is heavy today...

Strangely for me, for the last three months I have been having somewhat regular periods.  They are not the typical 28 days apart, I don't even think they are the same length apart, but I have had a period roughly every five weeks or something for the last three cycles.

I've never in my life charted my cycles, and I 'spose now is the time as every second waking thought strays to babies.

Anyway, cut to the point of the post and the reason my heart is heavy... In the last 48 hours, I kind of allowed myself to imagine that I might be pregnant.  I know it's not impossible for me to get pregnant, stranger things have happened... but to be fair, it's probably unlikely at my weight, with my PCOS and even if I did, the septate uterus would make it difficult to carry to term anyway.

But, hope is a dangerous thing.  Hope ends in heartache. Why do I allow myself to indulge?

About two weeks ago, I had ovulation pain. Some people doubt that women can feel such things, and I guess many can't.  But a lot of the time (when my body does actually do what it's meant to do), when I do ovulate I can feel which ovary I am ovulating from.  I get a dull aching pain and the odd crampy feeling on either my left or right side.  Two weeks ago, it was the right ovary.

One week ago, I started having period pains (thankfully, I am not one of those women that get severe cramps), back ache and really sore boobs.  Typical signs (for me) that my period is on its way in a couple of days.  Well, a couple of days turned into a week, and still not even a spot.

It suddenly occurred to me, that OH-MY-GOD maybe there was a possibility that it wasn't going to come? And those symptoms might mean something infinitely better?  A baby?  Enter Hope.

Hope has been given a leg up by the fact for the last week (even before I even thought it might be a possibility) by the fact that I have been having very, very, very vivid dreams about being pregnant and then nursing my baby and walking along the street with them as they grew a bit older.  The dreams felt so real. SO REAL.  I can still picture every single one of my children from each of the dreams.  I can see what they looked like, I can see their little cheeks, remember what features came from me and which from their father.  They weren't the kind of surreal, wacky, non-sensical dreams that are more familiar to me... you know the type of dreams I mean, the type that follow no rhyme nor reason.

These dreams were real. The children, my children, were real.  And after waking up from each one in the morning I felt empty.  Broken.  Sad.  I missed them.  These children that don't actually exist that I dreamt up, I missed them terribly and my heart ached to have them back.

So, then two days ago it was like a light bulb moment.  Could I be pregnant? 

Turns out No... I can't.  I just started spotting half an hour ago.

In my head, I think well it's for the best.  I need to lose weight first and I need to have the septum removed from my uterus to give me the best chance of carrying a baby to term.  I just have to turn this grief - and that is literally how I feel - into motivation.

My heart hurts, and I am only a stray thought away from tears.  Must go and keep myself busy, not give myself anytime to think about what was never going to be.

Will go for a walk after dinner tonight.  Motivation.

How am I here again... or shall I say, still here?

After quite a rough few months in and out of hospital, I find myself trying to get back on the bloody weight loss train again.

My weight had gone up to 126.5kgs and after a few weeks of really trying hard I am down to 121.9 - so a loss of 4.6kgs in three weeks which I was really chuffed about.  That was, until I decided to look back at my blog and see that when I first started writing this I was 121.3kgs.  So, I'm back to where I started.  Or, rather after almost a year (!!!), I am still here.  Still fat, still needing to lose about 35kgs to get my operation so I can start having a family... and approaching 30 at a rapid speed.

Fuck. Shit. Bollocks.

Need to pull my head out of my arse.

OK, so my first mini-goal is to get my weight to under (!) 120kgs... so 119.5kgs here I come. I hope to be able to achieve that in the next two weeks.  I really must get better at updating this blog too, because it truly does help to be putting thoughts down.

Anyhoo... time for lunch.  Chicken stir-fry here I come!

Back in hospital

This post is backdated from August, I didn't realise I hadn't saved it

I didn't think I would end up back in here again... Well, certainly not until I was in to have the hysteroscopy done!

The doctors don't seem to know what is wrong with me... They had suspected gall stones, but I needed the ultrasound to confirm. The ultrasound was due for this Thursday. I've been having the same pain a number of times since I was last in hospital, but the feedback has been to just wait for the ultrasound. Yesterday I had the pain in the wee hours of the morning (normally comes at night), and after I had thrown up (which normally relieves it), it changed into a burning in my stomach.

At around 11am on Monday I threw up again, it was just bile (there was nothing in my stomach)... And then threw up bile again every 20 minutes for the next two hours. I rang my GP and she prescribed some medicine but said she wasn't worried, and let's see what happens after the ultrasound. I was feeling way too sick to get up and drive to the clinic to pick up the medicine and then go to Tescos to have the script filled. I waited an hour and just felt like I was deteriorating fast... feeling feverish and couldn't find the strength to even keep my eyes open.

I asked my sister to drive me to the hospital. We had to stop along the way so I could throw up, and then I threw up again as we were driving (lucky I bought a bucket with me!). My poor sister!! I had to wait for about an hour before I got to see the A&E nurse, and then he just sent me over to see the Primary Care Trust GP, where I had to wait for about 40 minutes.

He was the most useless GP I have ever encountered. He sent me back over to A&E to have bloods done, and they also gave me an injection in my thigh to stop the nausea... Which didn't work (and I now have a massive bruise where it was injected). They then sent me back to the GP, where I had to sit and wait for another half an hour. Then I was seen by another doctor who took some vitals and then sent me back into the waiting room to wait to see the GP and get my blood results.

Anyway.. I could go on and on and on and on about the incompetence and the messing me about, but at the end of it I was admitted for three days while they tried to work out what was going on. They ruled out gall stones, and as they were trying to send me home and telling me to just take paracetamol every few hours I demanded to see my file.  A specialist then came up to see me and sat down with me to go through my file and then went away to talk to their consultant.  Turns out they think I had either a stomach ulcer or an infection of the stomach lining.  I was given six weeks of meds to take and sent home the next day.

Let's see how we go!

First taste of hospital food

URGH. So gross.

I can now say, having had the experience of both, airplane food shits all over hospital food.

I took myself to A&E the other night with really bad stomach pain and was admitted in the wee hours of the morning.  Although the stomach pain and nausea disappeared after about five hours, I was admitted for two days.  They suspected gall stones but blood tests showed something not right going on with my liver.  Although I'm home now, I have to go for an ultrasound in the next week or so and get some more blood tests.  Not sure what is wrong with me, although I feel normal but more tired than usual.

It was a bit of a levelling experience actually. I've never been in hospital before.. well, other than visiting other people.  It was not nice.  Scary.  Boring.  Frustrating.  I know I keep saying it, but I have to be more disciplined with the diet and exercise!  I am hopingggggggg nothing serious is going on, but I have to give myself the best chance of being fit and well...

I desperately want children... and WHEN I finally get my family, I don't want to be a sick and unfit mother who can't get out and run around and be silly with her children.

Right.  Although I said last time I was going to weigh in, I didn't...

I'm off to the Wii Fit.

Baby talk

Another hiatus.  Which means more months down the drain where I haven't actually done anything super pro-active about getting my weight down.

But, I am much more motivated than ever now because the BF and I had the discussion about our future etc and have decided that we will start to seriously try for a baby next year.  He said was ready right now, but we both know... well, I know... that there is no point actively trying now before I have my operation.

That said, we are not using any birth control now and I feel like we're moving in the right direction.

I turn 30 in the first part of next year, and I seriously don't want to be still having this same discussion with myself then ("Come on, you have to get serious. You can do this. Let's start for real tomorrow").  So, I've set myself some absolute deadlines.

By the 1st of December, I want to have lost at least 18kgs and then I can ring up my GP and get him to schedule the specialist appointment for me again.  I can then tell the specialist that I have lost half of what I need to lose, and can we schedule the operation.

Given that we are working with the NHS, I figured by the time that I get to have this appointment with the specialist and by the time he schedules the operation, it will be around March next year and by then (1st of April) I will have lost the remaining 18kgs.

So, I need to lose the first 18kgs in 5 months and the second 18kgs in 4 months.

Perhaps the first 18kgs will come off much quicker than the second lot, in which case I will just move the schedule around.  OMG imagine if I could do it even quicker than that!!  There's 24 weeks left til the start of December, so losing 18kgs seems entirely possible, right?? That's less than 1kg per week.  I can do that.

Basically, as soon as I get the first 18kgs off I am making that call.

Also, my sister is moving to London until December soon.  She knows about the baby plans and is super super excited and has promised to help me and make the time she stays just like boot camp.  It's just what I need!  We are going to join some sports teams, go swimming and do early morning walks.

No more coke either.  It's been 6 days.

Tomorrow I will do a weigh-in and get shit down on paper so to speak.  I am sure I will have put on weight since the last time I blogged. Urgh.  But.....

I'm back baby!

The biggest loser and other bits

I've been thinking a lot about weight and my PCOS lately.

I've had my eyes closed about my PCOS pretty much since I got diagnosed.  I've not taken it seriously, and it is serious.  Very serious.

Although I'm very involved in raising awareness about PCOS and being an advocate for other women like me, I think I've used that as a scapegoat. I've taken PCOS seriously, but not so far as it comes to my own health and well being.  I had a bit of a lightbulb moment the other day, listening to one of the world's top 25 experts in PCOS in the world.

These are some of the long term health risks: type 2 diabetes, cardiovascular disease and endometrial cancer.  PCOS is also linked to sleep apnea and breast cancer.  The breast cancer link scared me and was something I was totally unaware of (unlike the other risks which I've known about).  Breast cancer itself is not a long term risk of PCOS like type 2 diabetes is, but breast cancer is linked to infertility.  PCOS is one of the leading causes of infertility.  It's scary.

Fertility has also been something thats increasingly on my mind.  I know that your fertility takes a steep dive at 35, and at 29 I can hear the tick, but I thought I still had time on my side (despite not being married or even engaged yet).  The speaker I mentioned above mentioned the big 3-0.  At age 30 your fertility takes its first nose dive.

In 2010, I just have to do it.  I HAVE, HAVE, HAVE to get my BMI under 30 this year.  I turn 30 in 11 months.  I really want to have had my operation by my next birthday so I can seriously start trying to conceive.

I've been going to the gym a lot recently.  Last week I went three times; I did two cardio sessions and a big swim session.  I'm really chuffed to bits with myself, and am remembering how much I do enjoy exercise.  Especially swimming, I love being in the water.  I'm set to go and do some cardio again in the morning, and although I'm dreading getting up that bit earlier I know how good I'll feel when I walk out with my sweaty brow and red face.  I need to keep that up.  I've made myself promise that I'll go three times a week at least.

I'm not there yet mentally.  I am still bingeing, although this is getting less which I am pleased with.  But overall, I'm making better choices and I'm moving a LOT more than I have in a very long time.  I can really feel myself getting there though.  I've got a long way to go to get my head in the right space; the space where I'm making the right choices 98% of the time and seeing the kgs drop on the scales.

I'm going to get there though, I'm on the right road now. It's started. My head is out of the sand.  At last.

Anyway, I'm watching the latest season of Biggest Loser Australia online, and there's a woman on there with PCOS which I was really excited to see, she's gone on the show to lose weight so she can conceive.   I'm a bit worried though, as would love to follow along with her journey, but she's in the bottom two.  So I will have to watch episode two now to make sure she doesn't get booted out!


The Biggest Loser Aus 5 - Episode # 1 / Part 1
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Sabotaging myself?

I'm not quite sure how to formulate this blog post, as it's only just become a realisation that I do this in the last 30 minutes.  I am a secret eater.  I didn't really realise it before now... but how could I not?  Denial maybe?  I don't know...

My boyfriend would sometimes come across chocolate wrappers in compartments in my handbag and make a comment about hiding eating rubbish food - and I would laugh, and brush it off.  Denied it, even to myself I realise now.

It suddenly dawned on me tonight, I think because over the last four weeks it progressed to the point where it was someway on my radar what I was doing.  I'd buy a chocolate or three, and then really curse myself out for doing it.  Debate in my head whether I should in fact eat them now that I had bought them, and reasoned that it would be a waste of money if I didn't eat them... but this would be the last time.  No more.  Only to be repeated the next day.

I read an article on the Daily Mail the other day about Leona Lewis losing a few dresses sizes in a month or something, by eating only vegetables and drinking water all month - not as a weight loss tool, but as a bit of a detox.  A detox I thought.  I can do that.

So I resolved for March I would only eat vegetables and drink water all month.  As March approached, I figured it would be too hard to cut things like rice, meat and such out of my diet as well as anything liquid other than H2O ... so I would instead I would cut out all refined sugars and white flour foods for March and keep with the only drinking water.  That I could do.  I would allow myself a few days off during the month for certain occasions, but no more than five.  I did EXTREMELY well for the first four days of the month, I even went to the gym and did a HUGE workout.  I was feeling really pleased with myself.  Really, really chuffed.  I'm finally battling demons.

Then I found myself this weekend binge eating like a freak. Consumed chocolate en masse and Coke like I'm dying of dehydration. I don't know why I allow myself to do it? It's like I go outside of myself when making these bad decisions, like I am not consciously a part of the decision making process until it's too late.

Not that I've ever really lost enough weight for it to be an issue for me personally, but I've read a lot of people close to someone who is losing weight unconsciously trying to sabotage them for one reason or another.  But what do you do if you sabotage yourself? How can I stop this destructive behaviour?

I wonder if I shouldn't see a counsellor or a hypnotherapist or something.  I do wonder if I do this because I am too scared of losing weight and still not being able to have a baby.  At the moment, I can blame not having a baby on my weight.  But what if i get my BMI to under 30 and still can't have my own baby?  I think that that scenario will almost be too unbearable for my heart to take. I think I would wish myself dead.

But if I don't lose the weight, then I can't have a baby anyway and that is equally as tragic but somehow in my head I've reasoned that to be a better loss than actually going through the heartache of actively TTC each month and still not getting a positive result.  Right now, I go month by month knowing there's no point trying because it won't happen for me.

I want more than anything in the world to be a mother.  It's all I have ever dreamt of and wanted my whole life.  I remember being three years old and mothering my cabbage patch dolls, just dreaming about when I would be a real mum.  So, given that it's something I want so desperately, why can't I get out of my own way to give myself the best chance?

Advice please!!!

Gone fishin' ... back now

Countless weeks down the line, and I'm angry with myself sorry to say that I'm no further ahead than I was last time I blogged.  Well, that's not entirely true.  I'm down 2 kgs... yippee!!  I am also now the proud owner of a Wii Fit Plus that has been turned on six times this year (cough cough).

Oh, I did also start going along to the gym.  I've probably been about as many times as the Wii Fit has been used... but on the flipside I've been moving a lot more than I was before too.  I've gone from working at home to working on the third floor of a building that doesn't have an elevator.  So, getting in some good stair work-outs every day.

Although I've only lost about 2 kg's, I've gone from a size 24 to a tighttttt size 22.  But even those jeans are definitely doing up easier in the first-wear-after-a-wash test.

I am totally going to try and blog more regularly.  I really do need to keep myself accountable, otherwise I tend to let life get in the way and find the excuses falling too easily at my fat feet.  I need to keep in focus why I'm doing this................

having a family.