Dating

Dates I'm dreading in 2009:

Whatever date I'm scheduled for the it-sounds-like-an-HSG and possible-evilfibroidectomy.

Every day between 5th and 9th of March and probably the days before and after. The 9th was George's first due date, and the 5th was the adjusted date based on his healthy growth. I'll be booking holiday time as soon as I get back to work.

Mothers day.

Fathers day.

Each time day 28 of my cycle rolls around and I start bleeding.

20th October, George's birthday.

Every other day I will just:

Miss George.

Love Ray.

Search for tiny moments of pure joy.

Carry on putting one foot in front of the other.

Except for the dates I am looking forward to:

The day when two pink lines appear or the digital ones that say "pregnant" (I used four "two pink lines" tests and one "pregnant" test with George. I couldn't believe it had actually happened!).

The day we take our new baby home with us.

The day we get married. (not an actual date yet)



Today and every day I'm in love and loved.

The long way

We don't take short cuts, rather we extend our journeys. We always drive home the long way, often the very long round about, through another town way home.

It's costing us a fortune in petrol but we don't care.

Consequently, in the three weeks we've owned our car we have driven 1000 miles on what was already a dodgy clutch which has now given up almost completely. We drove the last 10 miles home today the short way, still along the country roads, in the dark, with an engine revving madly, a burning smelly clutch and a very stressed poppet.

We both breathed a sigh of relief when we finally parked in our street.

Hopefully next week Ray's dodgy retired-mechanic friend with dodgy knees will talk him through removing the old dodgy clutch and fitting the new non-dodgy one that we bought before Christmas. We have a lot more driving to do.

And you know what; I much prefer the long way home.

A plague on both your houses!

Yesterday evening, whilst I was in the kitchen generously letting Ray snore through his turn to cook dinner, he woke up itchy and scratchy and covered in what looked like hives. "I'm covered in buboes!" He wailed, stripping off in the kitchen and dashing for the shower.

Quick internet search: hives can be caused by an allergy to a cold or flu virus and usually appear after the virus has done it's worst. Poor guy has never had hives before and thought he had the plague, or measles or mumps or meningitis.

Ok, In full nanny mode now (more about the nannying another time) I took charge. I knew we'd find a use for that Sudocrem sample that came from the 12 week scan freebie pack. We covered him with said cream, ate a bit of dinner and then went to the midnight pharmacy and bought stupidly expensive antihistamine pills.

From the pharmacy car park the crescent moon shone beautifully through the clouds. We chased it home the long way.

Today he's fine. No more hives, no more itching.

But he's hatching another plot to get the person who infected him and attach thumbscrews...


Hmmm... today it's not all about me ... again.

In which I ramble, witter and burble.

Ray thinks he survived the "killer bird flu". He was running around like a headless chicken rearranging furniture and plants at midnight last night. And today we've been to the recycling centre, the supermarket, the garage and two beaches. I've been serenaded in the car and now I'm exhausted!

Physically I'm still not quite right but I'm getting there and more importantly I'm also finding hope. Just a little. And the occasional moment of pure joy. Mostly brought to me by my very own Ray of sunshine. I am starting to see the beauty of this world again and that means so much. I have my dark times, my crying days and my constant companion grief. But I don't believe we are meant to hang on to grief too tightly. I believe we must allow ourselves time to hit rock bottom but also time to heal and laugh and live.

I think of George every day and he is always with me. That hasn't changed, but the horror of the day we lost him is no longer just behind my eyelids.

I was so pleased yesterday to read that Antigone gave birth to her Perseus. And I'm so glad for myself that I am able to feel pleased for someone else having a baby when I'm not any more. Of course I'm hideously jealous, of course I am and I cried when I read it, but I'm also so very pleased that she got her live baby after loss and it gives me hope that I'll get mine. I'm also waiting for Newt to get on with it and evict her mini-newt. I need to hear good news these days. I don't listen to or read the news any more because it's all doom and gloom and mostly it gets me cross about how cheap life seems to be.

Anyway, Ray is snoring delightfully next to me on the sofa now so I think his excess energy is well and truly burned off. He stood in the middle of the living room last night, plant in one hand and lamp in the other and, wide eyed, said, "help". It's his turn to cook dinner but maybe I'll give him the night off. Oh I'm such a good fiancée.

Today I'm rambling.