It’s usually around 1pm when I stand right here to order my weekday skinny cap in lieu of lunch.  I’ve been up since 5am, driven the hour to and from work (where ruthless efficiency is strictly observed) and then caught the bus into town.  The drawl of Italian accents all around me soothe the edge of the harsh bangs and whirs of the espresso machine and all too soon I’m handed my coffee with a flourish.  I hit the street and my pace quickly matches the ambient tempo of the lunchtime crowds around me.  I’ve made it just in time for another doctor’s appointment.

It was the same but different today. While all my other appointments have been about tests, results and reasonable time frames to ‘wait’, there was a finality about today’s appointment.  It’s show time.  I’ll be starting IVF sometime after London.  That last sentence proves my innate ability to glamourise anything.  Who else would have thought to couple a medical procedure to 2012’s  European city with the mostest?  The next 6 months will either the beginning of the end or the end of the beginning. This time frame gives me hope.  One way or the other, I’ll be done by September 2012.

The wall of pensiveness and pessimism that I’ve hit today has taken me by surprise.  Up until now, I’d been counting down the days until this appointment.  I’d been looking forward to the potential of each IVF cycle and the hard science of blood tests and imaging.  In the manner of a good Showtime telemovie, there would be teary soft focus Moments aplenty.  So what’s wrong with me now?

I think it’s because I’ve lived with this for so long now that I’ve found a familiar groove in my current cycle of emotions surrounding pregnancy.  It concerns me that should I come through this a mother, I will find  myself unable to live in the Moment, so uncertain will I be that they will last.  Painful, illogical and unproductive as these feelings are, they represent a kind of cynical certainty.  That when things end there will be grief but then my resilience will kick in and I’ll be jetting off somewhere exotic to find myself (and the local stores).  For the record, my back up plan this time round is Brasilia in October.  A place I chose because it is so far removed from any reality I currently know, I’m sure to enjoy myself no matter what.

Needless to say, my current angst has paid dividends to my wardrobe.  Firstly with this order from My Habit which arrived this morning.  Hence the yellowish cast to the photo above.  It’s getting dark again in the mornings here so I needed my desk lamp to help illuminate the photo.

Missoni wool scarf for under $100?  Of course that’s frugal.

Missoni is looking like being the official knit wear supplier for London 2012.  This scarf is going to be the thing that saves the khaki puffer jacket I’m bringing as outer wear and will help me not look out of place in the lobby of the W.

$200 gets you this M Missoni cardigan at Gilt.

Gilt were not to be outdone and their recent M Missoni event was epic and guilt free.  All this heavily discounted Missoni must be some kind of karmic retribution for Australia missing out on the Target and Missoni collaboration last year.

And speaking of karma….

Image courtesy of www.smh.com.au

It’s game on, Kevin Rudd has quit as Foreign Minister – a job I think he excelled at.  He made the announcement today, in Washington DC.  Somehow, I don’t think the soap opera he spoke of has ended with his decision.