Creeping Closer

Hmm. I see a month has flown by since I last posted, and Valentine’s Day has come and gone. DH took me out for lunch at Andaluz, a posh tapas bar in the city, and I borrowed a friend’s Bettie Page frock to wear for the day, so I could almost pretend we were just going to Perth for an extravagant, romantic lunch, rather than an odious toe-the-line event (oh I’m sure you remember the ‘all together’ counselling session we had scheduled for the day)…

The lunch was fabulous. I wish I could say the same for the counselling session.

It went ok. I won’t say well, because it was only by the skin of my teeth that I managed to restrain myself from a temper tantrum by the end of the hour. Nothing new came up, but that was more or less the problem. Going in for the eleventh time, to the same set of questions, almost made me scream. Groundhog day has NOTHING on this process! It was as much as I could do to bite my lip and not interject sarcastically, let alone answer the questions with a straight face. At the end when the counsellor said “so we’ll meet again three months from the date of your application: the intended parents & birth (surrogate) parents; the intended parents & egg donor; then everyone together”. (So, three more hours of this shit). I said, half jokingly, “Will we get a fresh set of questions?” and she replied, “No, the same questions” at which point I slid down my chair and dramatically threw my arms out, crying “Nooooooo, I can’t do these questions one more time!!!!!!!” while kind of laughing, to take the edge off it (and so as not to get a slap on the wrist). But I think I made my position clear. Not that that makes the slightest bit of difference. Of course, it is a requirement to attend those next (and LAST!!!) sessions, and of course I will. And of course I will keep my temper (I promise). But. I really. have. had. enough.

Then all five of us traipsed out to the waiting room to wait for Liz, the co-ordinator, so we could hand in our (finally) completed application form before we headed out for coffee together. DH passed it over to her, and I could not believe my ears when she said “Oh, these are the old forms. You’ve printed out the old forms from the RTC’s website. They have new forms now. They won’t accept these old forms. You’ll have to print out the new forms and fill those in.”

Cue demented screaming (internally of course) and smashing of fist through wall (in my imagination of course). You. Cannot. Be. Serious.

But oh, she was, so very, very serious.

On the bright side: Liz was actually on site (it was 5pm and she could easily have left for the day, or been on holiday or her rostered day off, or already with someone else); she’d been sent the new forms the day before, so she could print them off right there and then for us; new regulations required that all five of us sign each page of the whole application, and we were all there to do it, which meant we didn’t have to post the forms between each other, delaying things by another week or more.

But still. So very frustrating. Because you know, don’t you, that those new forms barely differed from the old forms, besides maybe a font and layout change. The information they required was all the same. So, off we went to the coffee shop and sat around refilling out the damn forms, on the new layout, and signing all the pages. It took us about an hour. I was quite wound up over the whole thing, and although it was Valentine’s Day and I’d made everyone cards, and given them presents and I wanted just to sit and have a nice time chatting, I couldn’t really relax.

We are all getting together at B’s place next Sunday, away from prying eyes and authorities breathing over our shoulders, and I plan to kick my heels up then.

In other ‘getting closer’ news, the pysch has finished his report and sent it to the clinic; our obgyn has written his medical reports for me (why I need a surrogate) and for B (that she is fit to donate) and for M (that she is fit to go ahead with surrogacy), and he has sent them in to the clinic; M&S have signed the finalised legal document, and B should be signing next week (if she hasn’t already- she’s a quick worker that one). Then it comes to us, and on the day we sign it, the three month cooling off period begins.

Bring it on!

Oh, so close, I can smell it. Smells like a freshly popped bottle of Moet.

On the domestic front, it’s bloody hot here right now. Last week, this week, and next week: sweltering. I’m cramming necessary chores (and gym visits) into the morning, come home for lunch and then hide out in the guest room reading books (the coolest room in the house) until about 5.30, when I resurface and open up all the windows again to let the cool breeze in. I have managed to finish three novels this week. Well. I mean, you can’t expect me to cook or garden in this heat, can you?

Tomorrow I am off to a cousin’s wedding. DH and I have booked a room at Cave’s House, and I think I’ll be packing my bathers for a swim at the beach. Mmmm, ocean. I have borrowed another Bettie Page dress (not on website, sorry. Remind me to post a pic when I get back) which I will most likely cook in, but if it is only 32C (89.6F) I might just simmer, and make it through before the fabric melts into my skin. Of course, for some unknown reason, Australians like to have weddings in summer, at 3pm – nearing the hottest time of the day- outside, preferably with no shade. I am casting my mind back (at least 2 weddings a year for the past say, ten years), and no matter how far I go, I can’t seem to think of a wedding I’ve been to that was indoors, or at least shaded outdoors, and even marginally cool. Not even the one in South Africa in 2009. On the beach, middle of stinking hot day. What is that? Oh, I’ve just remembered one. It was my wedding, in winter, in London, indoors. Yep. Just have to be different.

Meanwhile, my (personal) therapist is having a break for a spinal fusion operation and will be taking some (amount as yet undisclosed) weeks off. We did more great work again last week, and it was odd not speaking this week, although I didn’t feel like there was anything I desperately needed to get off my chest. I have come to the realisation that what I am doing with this therapy, is working towards developing a secure attachment (that I missed in childhood) followed by a healthy separation (also not achieved in childhood). In this way, I will become a more secure, stable, grounded individual who is able to deal with shocks, grief, loss, conflict, rupture of relationships and so on, without feeling like I am being shaken to the core, or the need to engage in unproductive behaviours in order to ‘defend’ myself. So while we do work on individual issues (content), and that is most assuredly helpful, the big picture view is one of building relationship through the process of therapy. I can see why this is slow going, and why it takes years. Why it is something you cannot rush or drive, and will develop as it does, when it does. This was another real lightlbulb moment for me, and has helped me to finally let go of ‘being in a hurry’.

It also allows me to believe that it is possible I can heal myself. I’m not ever going to be perfect (- and that’s ok too!) but I think that down this road lies some genuine peace, contentment in who I am, and happiness. And I can get there. I’ve tasted some already, and there’s no going back.