Last week

So. I survived.

There were sad days. There were tears. But I battled on, like always. And I was reminded of a few things too.

I have awesome friends in my life.

I’ve never forgotten this, but it’s always nice to remember how privileged you are to call certain women your friends. It started last Saturday when I was surprised with a bouquet of flowers being delivered to me that morning from 2 close friends. Cue lots of sobbing on the doorstep. Then just before my birthday I received an (expected) parcel of OPKs and pregnancy tests in the post from another close friend and an (unexpected) touching card that brought such a lump to my throat. Throughout the week I had dozens of messages to me personally or through my blog/Facebook/Instagram page offering thoughts and support. I felt a lot of love last week. And I appreciate it a lot guys.

Mother’s Day wasn’t too hard.

I dreaded the church service at school. Previously they handed out bunches of daffodils to all the mums: a sweet gesture that never affected me before but this year I was bracing myself. But instead the flowers were given out on a different day, I got some too, and the service was lovely (as always). Mother’s Day itself in the U.K. passed by uneventfully – I saw my mum on Friday night for a family meal so wished her a happy Mother’s Day then, and on the actual day I posted a couple of things on my personal Facebook page as well as my blog Facebook and Instagram pages but otherwise I stayed off social media. I didn’t need it flaunting in my face. What I’m NOT doing is telling myself “Next Mother’s Day it’ll be my turn.” Obviously I really hope that, but I’m not setting myself up for more heartache.

My family is the best thing in my life.

I really do believe my family is the best one out there. Seriously. My parents are legends and my older brother is my hero. Dave is like a second brother when we all hook up (not in a weird way but because my parents treat him like a son and my brother teats him like a brother) and my brother’s girlfriend of 9 years is so close she’s like the sister I never had. Whenever we get together for celebratory meals are my happiest times. The food, the drink, the laughter, the memories. We had a fantastic meal out on Friday night and although I was super tired from a busy week at school, I really enjoyed myself. I love my family so much it scares me. I can’t wait til we introduce a grandchild into the equation.

I WAS pregnant.

The anniversary of my chemical pregnancy on Saturday affirmed for me what I have always been too uncomfortable to admit. I WAS pregnant. My feelings surrounding the experience are justified. And I thank every person who contacted me about my last blog post for reassuring me of that, and their kindness and support.

Distractions are good.

So on Saturday Dave and I went to an important football match of our local home team with one of his mates and his 11 year old daughter. I enjoyed the opportunity to let off steam with the shouting, cheering and chanting in the stalls. I channelled my grief and frustration into the match. The four of us felt like a weird little family lol. Two thirty-something year old men, me and a pre-teen. It was nice actually. A snapshot into the future of being a mum taking the kid to a football match.

When we came home and had a few hours spare, I randomly decided to take an OPK and it was positive. A Clearblue one also confirmed with its peak smiling face. So we got in a 4pm blowjob and quickie which kept the smile on my face (our team won at the football match so Dave was a happy chappie too!)

That night we also went out with 2 neighbours who are also good friends of ours. We had a fab meal at Nando’s, chatted about all sorts, took the piss out of each other, got drunk and danced til midnight. I also laughed LOADS. It was just what I needed. Sod the diet.

Dave’s still got it.

So on this same night out, Dave was attracting a fair bit of female attention. I’m one of the unusual wives where I don’t get jealous, I get HORNY knowing that my husband is turning the eye of other women. I know, I’m weird. So when my friend said that the same group of girls had been following us from bar to bar were checking Dave out and smiling at him I thought “Get in! And he’s coming home with ME!” And I then proceeded to snog his sexy-as-fuck face off. 

Unfortunately whereas I was ready for round two when we got home, Dave was too tired and drunk.

Terrorism puts things into perspective.

There was a lone wolf terrorist attack in London on my birthday on Wednesday. A reminder that life can be taken in an instant and we must make the most of our time whilst we have it. Cliched but true. I may not be a mother – yet – but I still have my life. Something that those innocent people who lost their lives last week won’t get back. 

I have birthday things to look forward to!

I was generously given a lot of money for my birthday and I intend to spend it all at Bicester Shopping Village next Sunday. I have my eye on a Michael Kors handbag, watch and a Pandora bracelet. I’m staying overnight in the hotel there so I can enjoy a meal on my own and browsing through the designer shops, doing my best Pretty Woman impression. I also have an afternoon tea and spa day lined up with my mum next week in my Easter holidays, along with many other meet ups with friends which I’m really looking forward to. A fortnight of personal indulgence awaits.

Turning 31 changes nothing.

I still look 23 so I can’t complain.

Life is too short to fucking food optimise during a shitty week.

Sod off Slimming World. I’ll take the hit of a gain this week from 3 meals out, a Subway breakfast and half a bottle of Archers.

IT WAS FUCKING WORTH IT.


One thought on “Last week

  1. Happy belated birthday!

    31 really is nothing. I cried on my 30th but took 31 in my stride. Over 30 is over 30, so adding years doesn’t mean much. I am 34 this year though, so only one more year until my fertility decreases massively. Not fun for someone who is apparently already infertile! (The doctor has said he’ll do one more test then I’m getting an official diagnosis of “unexplained infertility”).

    Like

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