…because I’ve had nothing to say really.
As I mentioned in my last post, I’ve spent the last month at hen parties, weddings, birthday parties and trips away utterly unencumbered by thoughts of pregnancy. OK, that’s a total lie, I’m still not drinking so almost every time I’ve gone out it’s been on my mind in some way or other, but actually, you know what, it’s been fine. Suspiciously fine.
If you recall, last time I felt this fine, I did something totally fucking dumbass and realised I wasn’t as fine as I thought I was. (And big thanks to Continue reading
Don’t panic, nothing’s gone wrong (that I know of anyway), there’s been no major setback or anything (as far as I’m aware) but do read on and the subject of this post will explain itself…
So I had the biopsy and now everything is just on hold while I wait for the results. I’m sure when we first discussed it the consultant told me that it was “like a smear test”. But then just as we were about to go in to theatre, she told me “it is quite painful” — I just laughed and said “well I’ll look forward to that.” And she quite rightly looked at me like I was mental.
I suppose what I meant was Continue reading
I promised you the headfuckery, the emotional fuckwittery, the messy lifeness, the mental rollercoaster. And what better day to write about all that than at the very end of the year? Here! Have it! My unburdening, so I can sally forth into 2017, lighter, happier, whatever, I don’t know.
In October I wrote that I had made a decision. I wrote that after
thinking, and dating, and sleeping with unsuitable people, and thinking that something might become A THING — and then realising that it wasn’t going to…
I had decided to try to get pregnant on my own. And making that decision was exciting, and terrifying, and empowering, and terrifying, and for a while it made me feel utterly invincible. Which sounds like a totally Continue reading