The long goodbye

So, we have a start date. My husband will fly out to the Gulf in two weeks' time, and I will follow as soon as I can after that, notice period and house rental permitting. There's so much to do, but actually we've both hit the pause button for a bit.

Suddenly it is all very real, and we suddenly realise there's so much that we meant to do around where we live that we haven't done; so much we want to say "farewell" to. Yesterday we headed down to the south coast, to where my husband grew up. We visited his old haunts, went for a walk on the beach and had lunch in a pub. It was a perfect day.

I'm now on my first round of a fertility drug called Clomid. It gives me not only very disconcerting hot flashes, but also the most tremendous mood swings and crying fits. And truly, this is NOT the time for being even more emotional than usual! I am permanently a leaking tap at the moment. I think I've cried every day for the last week.

Maybe I'd just have cried a lot anyway. I just can't bear the idea of saying goodbye to all our friends and family, our pet, and our home. Every time I think about it, I well up. I know it won't be forever - hopefully only about three years - but I'm simply rubbish at change. If I had my way, nothing would change at all. Still, hobson's choice on that one. And I know we're embarking on a real adventure, which has the potential to be a wonderful thing for both of us. Wish us luck...

The Christmas message of hope

We went to our church's carol service last night. The nine lessons and carols service is one of those annual events that's so reassuring, particularly in troubled times like these. Year on year, the familiar and beautiful readings and evocative carols drape a cloak of memory over us, binding us to our past.

I can remember reading several of those lessons at services in our school chapel, and in our Norman country church by candlelight at the age of 10. When I was a teenager my mum and I were part of a scratch-choir which met for a hurried practice the day before the service, and made it through the event with a wing and a prayer and a helpful amount of mulled wine!

For me this year, the baby, the symbol of God's love, has a new significance. Regular readers of this blog will know that my husband and I would love a child of our own, and that it's not going to be very easy for us. Hearing those familiar readings inevitably brought my own concerns to the fore. We would dearly love a child of our own by next Christmas. So, as I sat on that cold and rather uncomfortable pew last night, I said a silent prayer of hope that it might happen for us.

Perhaps it will, perhaps it won't, but we've got hope, and that's worth a lot.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

The calm before the storm

I continue to feel mightily weird. I think, in fact, I've become just one huge hormone. I'm starting to get spots, which at my age are extremely unwelcome! The joys of being a woman off the pill. At the moment make-up seems to be covering them, and I think I'm more conscious of them than anyone else is, but it does take me back to my teenage days (not in a good way!) I'm getting reacquainted with the delights of spot gel.

At the weekend my husband and I went to the local DIY place to buy bits and bobs for our bathroom. Amazingly, we managed to fall out over a towel rail. Yes, you've read that right - we argued over that crucial, make or break home accessory, the one bar, chrome effect towel rail. I really do need some help with this damn pituitary gland of mine before my poor husband has to go on antidepressants just to cope with me.

We are still awaiting a start date for the "big move", so that's probably contributing to the weird feeling too. There's not much we can do at the moment, except get moving on getting the house ready for renting out - various workmen need to be chivvied along to get jobs done at a reasonable pace, and we need to sort, pack, sort, pack, sort, pack, ad infinitum. Still, I think we'll wait until after Christmas for all of that.

We're undoubtedly experiencing the calm before the storm. It's odd, to say the least.

Horrendous hormones

I had an appointment with my consultant last week about my rubbish reproductive system. It was quite depressing. I won't bore you with the details, but essentially my hormones just aren't doing what they should, so nothing's working the way it should, either. So I'm going to be getting some delightful pills to try to sort it all out. Not sure if it'll work, but it's worth a try.

I'm not sure how much treatment we'll be able to get under the NHS before we have to head to the land of sand and camels. We'll get health insurance out there, but I don't think this sort of thing is covered, so it could get quite pricey. I'm hoping it won't.

The big news is still sinking in. We haven't got a start date yet, so at the moment it all still feels nebulous and unreal. I haven't told work yet either. Just thinking of packing up our house and trying to find somewhere to store all our stuff makes me want to weep already! Anybody got a large family of brawny men they could lend me for the move?

Life changing news

This morning, my husband was offered an extremely good job on a large heavy jet with an airline in the Gulf. Words can't describe how tremendously proud of him I am. We'd got to the point where we thought he would never be able to get another job. Our financial future looked horribly bleak.

Still, this offer brings mixed feelings for us both. It means moving our entire lives to another continent, leaving my job, our home, and our families behind. Everything that we take for granted in our day-to-day lives will have to change. To say I'm nervous would be an understatement.

Still, we're in this together, and I can't think of a man I'd rather move to another continent with than my loving, caring, funny, clever (not to mention gorgeous) husband. We're going to talk about this, but I expect in the end the answer will be yes. It's just too good an opportunity to turn down. So our journey into the big, wide, exciting unknown begins here....