So, since the capers of the April ectopic pregnancy and going back to work and pulling myself together (caveat: ha! within reason) countless people have told me that I should be a writer. That I should maybe write a book. But I’m like, apart from being honest about the IVF, endometriosis and our cervical ectopic pregnancy, what else is there? I’m pretty sure I don’t…
Today is the last day before I go back to full time work after 3 months off. By the time I post this I’ll probably already be sat at my desk trying to figure out what my login is. Did I achieve what I ultimately dreamed of in this time off? No. See here about that. However, I have for the first time experienced the…
Firstly. PERIOD. Let’s all say it shall we? Out loud please. Men too. Especially men. PERIOD. PERIOD. PERIOD. Well done. Let’s try TAMPON. TAMPON. TAMPON. TAMPON. You’re doing great. I’m really not trying to be condescending. But why do we still have a problem with all this? Why can’t we ask men…our husbands, boyfriends, dads and brothers to pick us up some tampons from Tesco…
I swear there’s alcohol in 0.0% non alcoholic beer. Because I’m sat here on a Saturday night, home alone – bar the sausage dog – indulging in a Thai takeaway and said ‘beer’ and I’m all a bit…thinky. I don’t even like beer? The catalyst for the deep thoughts, aside from the ‘beer’ and the transition of them in to this here blog post, was…
It’s 10am and I’m writing this as I wait in the Early Pregnancy Unit at my local hospital for hopefully my last blood test of this whole ordeal. We’re looking to see if my HCG level is low enough to return a NOT PREGNANT result because until then my body still in some capacity thinks it’s pregnant due to the hormone release that surged over the…
OH GOD. Oh god, oh god, oh god. What if I never get pregnant and have a baby? What then hey? Unthinkable. That can’t happen. It just can’t. I think I’d break if it did. My heart, my spirit. I’m 35 and you know what they say when a woman is 35. It’s all downhill from now on fertility wise. I can actually see me…
So it’s almost two weeks since I started to lose my first ever pregnancy. Clinging on to the bathroom sink, rocking back and forth before the ambulance arrived, my body cruelly experiencing contractions. Right now I should be almost 8 weeks pregnant, willing on the 12 week scan to breathe a brief sigh of relief to have made it to that milestone. But. I’m not…
You got me. I fibbed. Or rather, held back the truth, the whole truth. The sabbatical thing? It was all about trying to get pregnant via IVF. Well no. Not all about that. Say 90%. I wanted to make sure I was surrounded by comfort and freedom and daily options to promote happiness and calm into my world. To spend more time with the people…
Day 6 in hospital and I’m reflecting through very sore eyes, on all the messages I’ve received since my post about losing Little Bud. Life isn’t easy in a maternity block when in the middle of the night you hear little lamb like cries from the newborns being birthed just yards away. You take a moment to think ‘can I really hear that or am…
According to studies, the Sunday blues usually hit us five-days-a-week-nine-to-fivers somewhere around mid afternoon every Sunday. It doesn’t mean we’re unhappy in our jobs necessarily but it signals the end of the two days a week where you have more time on your hands to do the things and see the people you love. And if you’ve had an easy weekend with not much on…
