My Sharon Stone Moment at the Gyno

Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct

Is it just me, or do you secretly hope that your gynecologist is going to be a lovely, tender old woman?

 My ideal gynecologist would look and act exactly like Mother Theresa with old nurturing eyes that have seen thousands of vaginas. I was very anxious as I waited to be called into the gynecologist’s office following an abnormal pap-smear.

My lovely friend had accompanied me to the waiting room for support, understanding just how shit-scared I was. Not just about the check-up, but of the experience itself. When my name was called, I died 1000 deaths.

He was in his mid-forties, tall and rugged, with a strong jaw-line and a low gravelly voice.

“Sharni Montgomery” he uttered as if taking to the stage at a jazz bar.

I looked at my friend, deeply pained.

“You’ll be right,” she said with a reassuring rub on the back.

She knew I wasn’t going to be. This was the stuff my nightmares were made of. Had I been in a restaurant that dish would have been returned.

“I ordered Mother Theresa!”

With flushed cheeks and a knot in my stomach I entered his office. He greeted me quickly, gazed over some notes before routinely instructing, “I’ll leave the room now, please just take off your underwear and sit on the chair”

As the door closed my mind entered what I can only describe as a chaotic state of panic.

“Take my pants down… right, take my pants down…. where did he say I have to sit? Oh shit, I don’t know where he said I have to sit? Oh quick he’ll be back in a minute, just hurry up!” My basic instincts said the operating chair, but I second-guessed them.

As I slid down my pants and my underwear I felt instant regret for wearing a cropped jumper.

He must have meant that chair,” I thought, my mind racing at one million miles per hour.“Where do I even PUT my undies?”

Oh, the questions!

I popped my undies and pants up on the desk and sat myself on the leather chair. My panic attack was at fever pitch. I wasn’t prepared for the look on his face as he re-entered the room.

There I was, butt naked, sitting on some kind of leather director’s chair in the gyno’s office. It was at this moment that the truth dawned on me:“I’m meant to be on the chair up there!!!! The one with the stirrups!! YOU IDIOT!”

I felt like I should have breathed a sultry “Well hello there” before puffing on a cigar. HOLY SHIT, I was having a Sharon Stone moment at the handsome gyno’s office!

I could see that he was embarrassed, but trying not to make me more embarrassed said: “No – that chair over there” pointing to the chair where you are supposed to pantlessly sit.

It was at this mortifying moment, I performed my next trick, peeling my bottom from the leather chair and executing a very awkward bum run to the other side of the office. The operating chair like a mirage in the distance!

I tugged at my cropped jumper. It had buckley’s of covering my jiggly white bum.

The gyno was now coughing and spluttering in a polite attempt to divert from the live streaking action.

There was no need for that dashing gyno to leave the room to give me privacy. The damage had been done.I can’t remember what happened next. It’s all a bit of a blur. The checkup itself was fine, but my dignity…. oh my dignity. I’m sure I left it on his desk in the pile with my undies and my pants.

Have you ever been mortified at the Gyno?

 

 

Happy Birthday Grandma

Today is Grandma’s birthday. She would have been 99. She never wanted to be 99, so from her point of view, she’s cool with not being here for it.

I, on the other hand, miss her so much, it feels unbearable.

Since she passed away, five months ago, I have discovered a lot about myself, through her.

I have felt her presence guiding me as I’ve navigated some of the toughest personal obstacles I’ve faced.

I’ve spoken to her every day, at times, quite demanding. I’ve begged her for signs, hope, something to know that she’s still with me, that it’s all ok. That “this is not all there is”.

There have been days where I’ve felt so empty because the “signs” haven’t been forthcoming or dramatic.

But, she wasn’t like that.

She wasn’t one for ostentatious “look at me” behaviour.

She was one for practical, down-to-earth advice. A lot of the time, serving up what you didn’t want to hear.

So, in passing, she is still delivering in her usual trade-mark style.

Though she isn’t giving me what I want, she is still dishing out what I need.

She’s the voice inside me, that every day this month has encouraged me to go walking every day. To write every day. To keep putting one foot in front of the other, no matter what.

She’s the resilience that is strengthening in me to get up and show up, even when I’d prefer not to.

She’s the little voice encouraging me to look after my family, to have a banana because it’s full of potassium and to bring the washing in before it gets dark.

She’s the voice that tells me to look out for snakes as I walk in the hot, dry country.

She’s the feeling that I will survive, because she’s been there, done that, and I can too.

She has shown me that love truly isn’t over because of the loss of a physical presence.

The legacy of her beautiful life continues within me every single day. She helps me to be better, stronger, tougher than I’ve ever had to be.

And even when I’m not, like today, she encourages me to look after myself.

Today, I had planned on going to Hay to visit her grave. Since waking, I have been unable to stop the tears. They’ve punched me in the guts, I feel truly vulnerable and weak.

She has very clearly advised me not to go all that way over there, upsetting myself more.

Though she can deliver no frills practical advice for living. Her number one wish for me is to take care of myself. Physically, mentally and emotionally.

To be sensible.

Sensible had never been my bag, but I’m seeing a lot of its practical applications because of the love of this strong, resilient woman.

I am a better person because of her love.How wonderful that it now lives inside of me, continuing and strengthening.

I love you so much Grandma.

Happy Birthday.

My Girl

I’ve been looking forward to school and preschool going back today, because, I wasn’t dealing so great with all the fighting and attitude of the past two weeks. 

Then my darling girl got gastro 😩. We have been up all night with vomiting and diarrhoea. As I write this she lays beside me, washer on head, so fragile and pale. I feel guilty for wanting my own time, even though I know it’s fine and normal.  There is only one more term until she goes to big school. I know that is one more thing I will be grieving in this difficult year. 

I will be lost without a little one who annoys me and delights me at the same time.  I appreciate today and the opportunity to truly nurture her and remind myself THIS is what is important. 

It is my honour and privilege to give up plans of ‘getting organised’ (that elusive goal)and me-time, that I had wished for today. 

Although I wish she wasn’t sick, I’m taking the slowness and quietness of today to just be. With her. 

That Last Night

“It’s like old times” I told her

“Me sleeping over, listening to you snore! ”

Though it really wasn’t 

Because in the morning there would be no porridge to warm the cockles of my heart 

No listening to the wireless while going about our morning 

No making sure that I was warm and wearing a singlet

No, this time it would be different 

I’d be listening intently to your ‘snoring’

Your breathing, analysing its changing 

Finding soft, suitable music 

And giving you loving permission to go

I’d be pouring love your way 

Guided only by intuition, love and primal knowing 

Just like I did with my newborns

Letting my love instinct guide me

I fussed over you being warm enough

The lights being dim enough

Your hand being held enough 

I became a reiki practitioner 

Sending love energy with my hands all over your body 

Hoping, somehow, you were receiving its energy 

But never truly knowing 

I reassured you it was ok to leave

While at the same time believing you were immortal 

The strongest, most resilient

I know you were ready 

You had been for a while. 

But still, 

When the snoring finished

When the breathing stopped

That inevitable moment 

Sent shockwaves through my broken heart

That night I slept in your bed holding onto your t-shirt

Never wanting to let you go

Until I heard you in my head 

Telling me it’s ok

Guiding me to be there for my Mum

And me desperately wanting proof

That the voice was truly , truly you.

Rumbles & Co

The other day my daughter and I went for a walk around the neighbourhood.

Usually our walks consist of throwing a few rocks in puddles, spotting birds and picking flowers. But on this particular walk we were in for a true small-town living experience.

As we made our way along the road, we set off a heap of dogs barking.  There were at least five of them, jumping aggressively up at the fence, gnashing their teeth. Thank God the fence was high!

times this by five

We walked a bit further up, then returned the same way we came.

I noticed that there was a man, probably in his 60’s , standing at the gate where the dogs were, watching us on our way back.

The dogs were all lined up next to him – but not barking this time.

“Hey Sweetheart!” he yelled.

I wave immediately, as this is my alias.

“How old is your daughter?” he asks.

“Four” I reply, reluctantly.

“Wait there a minute will yas'” he says before heading towards his backyard, five scary dogs in tow.

I didn’t particularly want to wait there a minute, but I was too polite to do otherwise.

To my surprise, he returns with a little girl, about two.

“Come over here, Sweetheart! Does your little girl want a friend?” he asks as my daughter and I slowly wander over.

“This is Lou”

A little girl about half my daughter’s size looked up at me with a snotty nose, oblivious to the five scary dogs swarming around her.

I introduce my daughter to Lou while trying to formulate an escape plan.

“Me names’ Bob but most people call me Rumbles” he says.

I introduce myself and my daughter.

“Who don’t youse come in and the girls can have a play?” he asks

“Oh thank-you, but we need to be getting home now” I lie.

“Are you new around here?” he asks.

“No, we’ve been here for a while” I reply.

Rumbles then opens up the gate and Lou and her brigade of five scary dogs walk out to greet us.

It is only now their true enormity was revealed.

Jeepers!

My daughter puts her arms up to me urgently, and I pick her up.

I look behind me wistfully for someone to do the same for me, alas.

*don’t let them smell the fear* *don’t let them smell the fear* I think.

They smell my bottom instead.

“They won’t hurt ya” Rumbles says, reading my mind.

“Lou is so good with the dogs” Rumbles tells me, I notice the hard lines all over his weathered face. “It’s like she has a magic kinda way with ’em” he says.

I silently wished that Lou would work some of her magic so that the five beasts would kindly stop surrounding me and my daughter.

“We used to have a cuppla pythons and she had no fear of ’em!” Rumbles adds casually.

“You sure you don’t want to come in? I’ll make you a cuppa?”

No thanks Rumbles. I’m all good.

“Does Lou have any brothers or sisters?” I ask.

“Nah,” Rumbles replies “We’ve got her for good now, problems with her Mum and Dad – I just thought she might like a little playmate that’s all.”

Rumbles heart was in the right place.

He was a friendly, country bloke with a soft spot for animals. I could see that perhaps he was a little like the dogs, menacing looking, but harmless and soft inside.  Lou was a little cutie too.

We thanked Rumbles for the kind offer and bid him, Lou and the five dogs farewell.

As Rumbles let the dogs back in, my daughter loosened her grip around my neck.

We wandered off marvelling at the friendliness of  small country town living and the enormity of the dogs.

My daughter now wanting to go back and pat them. Of course.

“Maybe another time” I tell her, while making a mental note to try a different route next time. Absolutely no offence Rumbles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thanks for the Music

Dear David, Freddie, Mick, Sia & Lorde,

How are you guys?! I know some of you are not still with us in this physical sense, but by God you are living on in spirit. I just wanted to drop you all a line to say thanks for hanging out with me today. Seriously, you have all been the greatest company.

I started the day by cutting a few laps around a big oval, it was hot and half of the walk was uphill. That hurt a little, but, when I got to the downhill part – BIG UPS to you Freddie, it was if you knew the EXACT moment to punch out “Don’t Stop Me Now”.

As I walked down that  hill I’ll be buggered if I didn’t hear  someone call me Mrs Fahrenheit – I was walking at the speed of light!

WHAT a joy your voice IS, your songs, your lyrics. Thanks for giving 100% and not giving a rats’.  Although you have left this physical earth your voice is eternal.

How magic is that!

As I returned to flat, level ground, I came back to the modern era. Lorde, dude, you really helped me get my rhythm happening! I felt like I was an honorary member of the Love Club. As I walked past a posse of Mums and prams I really got the vibe they were picking up what you were putting down courtesy of the spring in my step.

Thanks for transporting me from a place where I would usually feel self-conscious (power-walking) to feeling like President of the Power Walking Brigade!

Even if it was only in my own private galaxy 😉

Sia! You are so modern, and so popular and, goodness lady,  I can see why!

You got me back up that hill with your contrasting lows followed by almighty choruses. When I started singing out loud, I think I may have scared a local council worker … but I didn’t care! I practically swang from a chandelier as I my made my way back up that hill. Empowered!

Mick, Mick, Mick! What can I say. You and I have been close for a VERY long time now. It’s been one hell of a journey old mate!  I’m cool with you pretending not to know a damn thing about it, TRULY I am 🙂

I decided to go into your vast works and listen to some I hadn’t heard before – and you delivered. Of course you did. The Streets of Love made my heart howl as I did about 5 sit-ups. They were sit-ups with attitude Mr. Jagger. Thank-you.

 

David Bowie. Oh man. I’d take my hat off to you, but it’s nearly 40 degrees. Thank-you for revolutionising my Woolworths shopping experience. I have NEVER worn earplugs while shopping before and it begs the question WHY??!!

Looking for currants I was entranced by your sultry tones on “China Girl” THANKYOU.

You guys have really brightened up an otherwise mundane, routine day. You’ve given me magical moments and helped me bring the dull to life. Thank-you for sharing your creativity and talents with me.

Til next time,

Your grateful fan,

Sharni xx

On Being Heard

“Miss Piggy was in my dream. I went up to her and I wanted to talk to her. But when I tried to talk my voice kept coming out quiet. Every time I tried to make it come out louder, it would only come out quiet.” – Tansy, 3 years old. 

I know this feeling well. Sometimes we feel like we aren’t being heard, no matter how hard we try to communicate. Don’t ever let this stop you from speaking up. Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes! Your voice is important as anybody else’s. Even Miss Piggy’s.

Love Mum xxx

Stuff I’m Liking

I’ve been sitting here TRYING to write a story, and I’m dead in my tracks – ‘don’t force it, don’t force it” – thanks voice in my head, I won’t.

However, I do feel the urge to share and connect with you. So, I’m sharing with you some things that are floating my boat at the moment, in the hope you might do the same.

Desire Mapping – yes Daniella Laporte is all the rage alongside other young, hip spiritual gurus  – so I’ve jumped on the bandwagon and picked up a copy of “The Desire Map” which I got for a bargain price from here. 

It’s really interesting to do as instead of focusing on goals i.e – I want to get a job as xyz, or I want to lose 490kgs, through a process of questions and deep digging, you come to what she calls your ‘core feelings’. The book is part work-book, part normal book (for the want of a better term.)

The jist of it is, you work out the feelings you want to feel first, then work out what you need to do to get there. I’m liking the cut of it’s jib actually.I’m thinking this could be a great thing to do with other peeps – so give me a holler if you are interested in doing a bit of group desire mapping, maybe I’ll start a little online secret gang.

Serene Bohemian is a beautiful website developed by an epic pinner (who just happens to be my BFF)  Rosa. You should definitely follow if you love dreamy boho style in clothing, kids-wear and the home. (Me! Me!)

Rosa has an incredible eye for style (over 100,000 Pinterest followers can’t be wrong!!), and has introduced me to so many beautiful etsy shops.  If you sign up to her website you receive emails of all the latest sales in the boho universe (a thing) You also will go into a state of oohing and ahhing at all the beauty she curates there. Go and have a look! Go on!

Yes, I’m one of the zillions in the David Bowie playing in high-rotation club.

I’m absolutely fascinated with the man. No, it is not just ‘cos he’s dead’, as Crossfit* sneakily suggests to me.

I’ve always liked his music, and he’s always had an air of intrigue about him – but, admittedly, it was his final film-clip and song “Lazarus” that just stopped me in my tracks. Blown away at how he made his own death into art. It’s got me thinking about life, love, mortality, art, creation – EVERYTHING. A mere man – provoking such big questions and inspiration through his music. What a hero. Makes you think that maybe we could be heroes too. Just for one day.

Ever since his death, and my fascination with his whole death-art thing,  I have devoured all I can about the man, his lyrics – he even entered my dreams. He asked me on a date. Too late, Starman. But maybe next life?

What are you into right now? Bowie obsessed too? Would you like to join a desire mapping club?

*Oh and for longtime sharnangians readers Crossfit is Cowboy’s updated name.

Ch-Ch-Changes.

 

Lessons from my Kids

This morning as I dropped my six year old son off to school, I stayed in the car to watch him on his way. His long skinny legs meandering slowly through the school gates. His big red bag huddled over both shoulders, his hat looked so smart, he reminded me of a mini Anzac soldier.

He wanders into the schoolyard without a care in the world. Bigger kids wander past him loudly. He is unphased. He crouches down on the ground to get a better look at an army of ants surrounding a big, dead  bug. His water bottle rolls out of his bag and he chases it, then returns to the bug.

Oblivious that I was there, just watching, just loving. Witnessing the person that he is.

My daughter returns from her bedroom with a select pile of books. She places them up on the lounge chair. She climbs up next to them ready to devour. She’s three, and can’t yet read but knows all of the stories by heart. Sometimes she is a teacher, reading to her ‘pretend children’. Other times she simply reads them aloud, letting the pictures trigger the words of the stories she loves.

I watch, in awe of her ability to be engrossed completely in her world .

I am delighted listening to her nail the stories word for word.

She doesn’t know that I am there, just watching, just loving.

It is often in these moments of being a quiet observer that I feel the most love for my kids. They radiate beauty, and they don’t even know it.

They are just being themselves, following their curiosity and joy.

It comes naturally, and has since birth. They are not trying to be anything except themselves. Egos aren’t at play.

Somewhere on the journey from being a kid to adulthood we lose a lot of this ability. We become slaves to time, to-do lists, the Jones’ and following our curiosity and joy becomes an indulgence, a frivolous waste of time, and shit, is that the time, we are going to be late!!!

To do something, just for fun carries with it a sense of guilt, time that could have been better spent picking up shoes off the floor that will go back onto the floor in ten minutes.

Before we know it we get more and more oblivious to the dead bugs and the army of ants, and our pretend audience of children has long withered away.

When I look at my children, absolutely present in their moments, I long to be like them.  I want to climb up the tree and peep in the birds nest, I want to spy on the ants and see where they are going, I want to roll from one end of the lounge room to the other. Many times I do. More than often I become impatient and tell them to hurry up, or stop what they are doing – we have to get to the next thing.

What I am learning is that the ‘next thing’ never arrives. The moment really is where it is at.

While I know this, living it can be a real challenge. This is why I find it so beautiful just to watch with awe my children who have this ability well and truly down pat. I want to wrap them up in cotton wool and never, ever let the world take this gift away from them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Reminder From A Feather

I was waiting in the beautiful gardens of a winery to have a meeting with a client some months ago. I took it as a rare opportunity to sit, and simply breathe in the present moment.

As I looked up high I noticed a single feather making it’s journey down.

I didn’t see the bird that it dropped from, but I was mesmerised by the slow and beautiful way it drifted side to side as it made it’s way down to the ground.

I felt moved to photograph it. It was so graceful and unhurried. It’s white colour illuminated by the blue sky surrounding it.

I was struck by the beauty of that moment and felt somehow that it was significant.

Then, my client showed up and I was whisked back into the hustle of the everyday.

Later on, I met up with my parents who were in town visiting. We enjoyed a lovely lunch together.

Afterwards, as we wandered through the town, my Dad received a phone call. It was news that he had expected, his beloved brother had passed away. He had been ill for some time.

I felt the enormity of his pain. I wished desperately that I could ease it somehow.

My mind took me back to the feather. The drifting feather that I had watched slowly, yet gracefully float to the ground.

I was almost sure that this, in my rare moment of being present, was symbolic of my Uncle’s passing.

Knowing my Dad wasn’t likely to share the same slightly woo-woo beliefs, I showed him the photo that I had taken – and told him I thought that it was a sign.

I’m sure he received the photo with the intention with which I showed him.

To me, the feather served as a reminder of our journey. That we, and all of nature share the same destiny.

Perhaps in sad times of love and loss we can take comfort in the natural world. Actively seeking out the grace and beauty can remind us that we are all simply floating, gently and beautifully, back to the Earth.

xx WITH MUCH LOVE, RIP UNCLE PAUL xx –

Have you ever been comforted by nature? Love to hear your experience.