Tumbling Through the Rabbit Hole...
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Back to the waiting game..

Posted by Haisla Saturday, 24 May 2014

I spoke to Nelly the Nurse yesterday (she called me back!! punches air - I'm now one of those frequent flyers who have earned their same-day call back privilege from Nelly!!). And as I'd suspected, our next step is to see a consultant to discuss the future game plan.

Does the consult get booked automatically, now that I've spoken to Nelly? Like hell it does.

I am to try and call that god-awful telephone number again that never gets answered to book another appointment. And then wait for weeks and weeks and weeks to get a letter to confirm an appointment another set of weeks and weeks away (probably when we're on a summer holiday), which means that I'll have to call that number again to try to reschedule, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Me, negative, much?

Well, I feel like I've been on this infertility train for long enough now, to deserve to speak to an actual human person when booking these appointments instead of the perpetual answer phone.

So I've decided to change tack a little. Instead of being the polite little scandinavian that I was always taught to be, I am planning to leave behind all shame and become THAT person. Yes, THAT crazy lady who leaves millions and billions of ever increasingly desperate messages on the clinic's answer phone, until someone has the good sense to get back to me.

I know this is NHS we're talking, but surely a call-back to confirm that you're answer phone message has been heard, registered and is being actioned isn't too much to ask!!?? Ggggaaahhh.. Give me a moment whilst I go self-combust.

I think I might be on some kind of a progesterone come-down, 'cause I'm feeling ANGRY..

Anyway, to counter all this negativity that I have been feeling of late I have decided to try to do something POSITIVE.

I know, shocking.

I came across this little book on an adoption blogger's site, got intrigued and without much research ordered a copy for my Kindle:

I'm not much of a believer in magic (apart from unicorns, baby dust fairies, storks and other magical creatures), so the title really annoyed me, but I decided to press on regardless due to all the positive reviews that the book had gotten on amazon.

The first few pages really grated me.

For someone who confesses to have faith, I'm quite cynical, so the author's overwhelming promises of a better life (through following the magic recipe in her book of course) really got my back up.

It just sounded just like the kind of hokum that a lot of these self-titled self-help gurus like to sell to us whilst laughing all the way to the bank.

But somethings that she also said made sense. Like surely being grateful for what you have will make you happier (although I reckon it is because you realise how much you already have, not because all of a sudden you will start accumulating even more of the stuff that you thought you want, rather than need. Or maybe it'll have some kind of an impact on the kinds of things that you'll want in life. Like reflecting on the things you appreciate, makes you evaluate what you actually really appreciate and why.. and then you'll realise it's not the material, but the immaterial and blah, blah blah.. I don't know.  Does that make any sense?).

Anyway, I'm all for discovering what I appreciate in my life, especially whilst in the throes of infertility, as sometimes (ha! I mean almost all of the time) things can seem a little bleak and it can be hard to count your blessings.

So, I'm gonna start counting.

This book gives you 28 exercises for 28 days and encourages you to do one of them every day, so as to build up them gratitude muscles. Knowing how bad I am with sticking to any exercise regime, I have my doubts whether I'll be able to see this through. But I'm going to try.

Who knows, perhaps a brighter, more positive Haisla will emerge from the ashes, just in time for our consult with the Doc. And I'll be all serene and grateful, rather than ready to strangle them for all the waiting they've made us do..

One can always hope.


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