Moving On

Well it's all come to a head. It's time to put the past 5 years of trauma behind me and move on. What a romantic world we live in nobody told me baby making was such a traumatic event. And for most I am sure it is not. However for me it has been the most dramatic and traumatic event in my life.

First finally deciding to finally take the step and try for a baby at the age of 34. Then frustrating realising things weren't going to plan and it just wasn't going to happen from a romantic night of passion on the kitchen table.More like accounting and doing the BAS on the toilet. hmmm how is my mucus today cloudy or clear, "check". Then being told by a doctor at 39 weeks who barely speaks English "Miss Herne, your baby might be deaf."

Next. No discussion. It's back into the cattle corral with you to join the herd of heifer's. Deal with it. Devastated with no consultation I turn to the Internet to self diagnose the problem, CMV they say. What is that? After much research I make an appointment with the doctor and ask "can't you go back and test my first lot of bloods to find out if this CMV is a old strain, or a new strain" this fact makes all the difference. Obviously they would rather put me through hell with worry. And they did. Yet my so called consultant disgruntling said she would look into it. Maybe she was annoyed that I had the audacity to come up with a solution to my own well being. Really who do I think I am. She got the results back 4 days after Rhody was born. Not to worry it's and old strain. Thanks for nothing. This was to be the start of a series of ruthless, careless, neglectful treatment by the Royal Brisbane hospital. You ain't herd anything yet. to be continued...................