Not bad I suppose in the trying to conceive stakes since we've only been trying again seriously* for two cycles and I know, I know some of you out there have/had been trying for what feels like forever. However, in my world at the moment, I'm so so SO aware of my biological alarm clock that it feels as if it's shaking itself off the shelf it's ringing so loud. And each unpregnant cycle seems like another step towards menopause or on particularly hormonal days another giant leap towards menopause. I'm going to be 42 in July. Forty-bloody-two! How on earth did that happen? I was 32 just a few minutes ago wasn't I?
I'm working on relaxing (hahaha) and trying to think of things other than babybabybabybaby (hahahahaha). (Or as Sally more accurately put it GeorgebabyGeorgebabyGeorgebaby) I'm doing those visualisation exercises when I can, picturing my womb as welcoming and comfortable and safe safe safe, not wasting any energy thinking about those evilfibroids (oops) and going on an imaginary walk around our house with a new baby, letting him or her know that she or he is welcome, that there is space for him or her in our lives. A good space. Cluttered maybe, but a space nonetheless and one that can
The other week I received a catalogue from the NCT. I didn't open it and Ray thoughtfully* put it in the bin. A few days later I emptied the bins, fished the catalogue out and hid it under our bed. I've been looking at it occasionally
I have some small canvasses and I'm planning on painting them with brightly coloured bugs and trees and flowers and putting them in the drawer.
Hopes and dreams. I'm hanging on to them although my nails are somewhat shredded and bloody.
*sorry my language is becoming bloody awful
*entirely peeing-on-sticks, bicycling-legs-in-the-air-while-Ray-showers-first bloody desperately seriously. That's how seriously.