Hurrah!

Well, where to start?

Firstly, I should say that often I blog right in a moment - in the snotty, tissue laden, tear tripping, second. About an hour later after a cup of tea and a sweet treat, I'm usually feeling a bit better.I blog to get it out - I purge and then am released. And I always know that I could be so much worse off. I am so blessed in so many ways - it is just sometimes, in a dark moment we can't see the wood from the big old trees. I thank all my commenters on my last post - as they cheered me up. It was comforting to hear of folk who have been there and found their way back. Speaking of which...

The very day after my hormonal blub fest I got an email from a good buddy at my old job - offering me 6 weeks work! I was dying to blog about it but wanted to check that financially they would pay me enough to cover child care etc and that it would be worth my while. Turns out they will and now I am about to go back to working with my old muckers for 6.5 weeks! I'm brimming with excitement and a tad nervous too... there is a whole new system and they work on stories 3 months ahead - but hey, I've my buddies there to help me through it and it will mentally do me good to get out, work, earn some much needed cash and do a job I really enjoyed. So that gets me out of a huge hole! Plus, it has re-energised me book wise - I have been working in the evenings, beavering way - determined to get half of it finished by the time I start back at my old job. I have planned out the final 10 chapters so aim to have it all done by the time Sprog no2 appears. So good things happen. You just have to have faith. I am so relieved. I honestly feel like having my own wee dancing party. I know it doesn't solve what will happen post bairn, but that is then, this is now. I can't worry endlessly about the future. Today is good. I can survive until we have the baby - and who knows, if the book goes ok, then maybe I'll get a book deal and all will work out. Something will turn up. It always does. Usually when I am least expecting it.

I went to the hospital this week - I was checking out where I will recuperate after my section. Last time I was in an NHS ward and I didn't sleep for 3 nights - I was a basket case by the time I got home with a new baby.Proper blubbering mad as a bag of snakes, mess. The midwives were grossly overworked and all night people talked, babies yelled, drawers slammed and weird bodily sounds floated around the room. Hideous. Also the showers were filled with dirt and hair, the toilets were blocked and a midwife failed to point out I was allergic to the adhesive of the plaster covering my scar - and I had a huge scaly raised rash that ran across my nether regions and down my leg. Grim. I needed antihistamines and cream to get rid of it - and it took two weeks! As if my lady garden didn't look unappealing enough post section, without the reptile scabbiness on top.

I always swore if I had another sprog - I would go private, no matter if I had to sell a kidney. I have no money left bar the funds for one night in a private room, but I was so determined not to spend it. Sections are full on - I wanted to know that the recovery would be more pleasant. Husband is saving for the other night and I asked a family member to loan me the rest of the deposit needed as it goes back to them as soon as I leave hospital. This is what started my meltdown on Monday - I rang the hospital and they broke it to me that you have to pay for 4 nights, not just the ones you stay. Like a deposit. Then you get back what you don't use... Great. As one night costs the same as a fancy schmancy hotel. Which is because, well it is like a fancy schmancy hotel. All products and soft bedding and flat plasma screen tv and bowls of fruit and fancy decor. I sound as deep as a puddle, I know. Forgive me, it was my one promise to myself. I loved this place so much I'd like to vacation there next Spring. The woman who showed me round guessed that I wasn't from the rich club who just use pocket money for such events, she even offered not to charge me the new prices, which start in Aug. She was so lovely I wanted her to be my new bessie mate and she could holiday with us at 'The Knutsford Suite' Watford Hospital too.

I also had my 20 week scan! This, is the best news of all. The baby is well and healthy and jumping around. The sex? Well maybe we found out, maybe they stuck to hospital policy and didn't tell us. All we cared about is that the wee one was fine. And it is. I was really nervous for some reason, but the sonographer was lovely. She had only 20 mins to take measurements and check the heart and the brain and kidneys and limbs and all. I kept my eye out for signs of a penis, but I have to say most of the time there were bubbles and squishy looking bits that I had no idea what was what. The lady thanked us for making her day - as she said that sometimes she has to give bad news. She said that a woman in before us had had bad news, an abnormal baby. Funnily enough, I had clocked her and her family leaving, and they looked very flat, very quiet. Often folk don't know, until the 20 week scan - which is awful, because after the 12 week one goes ok, you would presume you are out of the woods. To say I am lucky is an understatement. Now, I'm off to do a small dance. Steer clear, I had my chest measured this week and the poor woman in John Lewis eyed my enormous bosom and said 'we don't have much in your size I'm afraid!' She was holding a FF bra!! I am in a 'large' and for some unknown reason, it has padding. Like I need the freakin' padding! If you get too close, my nipples could take your eyes out, I tell you. Lord only knows what monstrosity I will need to hoist up my mammeries by 39 weeks. I'll keep you posted.

:)