I’m done

I’m done with this feeling. I need to break out of it.

I’m done with my mother worrying about her distant daughter.

I’m done with people thinking I’m not coping.

I’m done with friends who don’t see me as a friend anymore.

I’m done with fretting about being a good mother. At the moment I’m just ‘good enough’.

I’m done with my husband not being happy. He’s fought this fight with me.

I’m done with wishing things were different.

I’m done with the tummy flips and fears.

Getting hopes up and then the crashing blows, I definitely done with that.

I’m done with being that person. I want to be happy. I want the people around me to be happy. I know I’m not bringing that for them.

All I know is my boy makes me the happiest I can ever be, when I am with him.

Let me start there. I’ll figure out the rest.

But I’m done. I’m done with this girl.


HRT – Hot Really Hot Totty

Mrs S, would you like to follow me?

Oh good gracious, who is that Doctor Man? He is bootiful. *Tweets how beautiful he actually is*
I wonder if he’ll take my clinic?

10 mins later

Miss P, would you like to follow me?

I would follow the hell out of that man. He’s gorgeous. No wonder he’s a gynaecologist.

10 mins later

Mrs Crimp, would you like to follow me?

Crimson. Actually crimson, with a side of maroon and a portion of being my clumsy self trying to walk over.

Mrs Crimp, good to see you, I’m Mark, one of the registrars under Dr Allen, I’ll be doing your review today.

Hmmm. Uh ha, yep *glazed look*

How you doing, feeling OK on the patches?

Yep all good. Feeling well. I tend to have more hormones raging through me than a teenage boy at times. Look at my hair! It’s all lovely and thick.

Ah, yes. That’s a bonus. But what about internally, no hot flushes or night sweats.

No, I’m all good at night.

And dilation, that’s going well? Managing to dilate 3 times a week?

Yes, oh yes in fact I’m just using my husband now. *winky face*

Oh right, well lucky him. And that answers my next question. Sexually active?

What now?! Oh, yes, sorry. Yep all active.

And are you experiencing any dryness?

My ezcema has flared up a bit but I’m a bit stressed and it’s cold, init.

Erm, ok, but I meant vaginal dryness.

OH. Oh I see, erm, *cough* nope. *A new colour for red*

Well pop on the bed and I’ll do a quick exam on you.
Ahh yes, all looking good.

Oh thanks, that’s nice to hear.

Right, well as long as you’re happy, then we won’t need to see you for another year, but we’ll do a bone density scan on you.

Oh, so this will be the last time I see you? *wibbly lip*

Technically yes, but that’s a good thing.

Depends what thing your talking about.

Nice to meet you, keep up the good work!
*flashes mega watt smile*

*swoons and everything goes rose tinted*
Thank you Doctor.

*walks into chair, stumbles, exit stage left*

Finally! A perk to all this. A fit Doctor.

Look at me! I am stunning. I have less facial hair than this faux Doctor and your foof is still broken. Soz. But look at my eyes!

Look at me! I am stunning. I have less facial hair than this faux Doctor and your foof is still broken. Soz. But look at my eyes!

The Noise

It’s coming. I can’t ignore it. The day(s) will come whether I want them to or not.
We have to endure them to say that we got to the other side.

I’ve booked time off work either side to deal with this day(s). I don’t know how I will react. At the moment I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach. I just want to hide away. I’m concerned the reaction will be visceral.
I am trying to absorb myself in other lovely things. I met my kindred spirit, Jayne and I’m going to see A Pregnant Pause this week.

But, The Noise is loud.
The Noise creeps up on you.

The Noise is something that I can’t possibly describe to anyone. It’s the voice of reason being tackled with the voice of scared girl, fighting to tread water.

It’s a wave of panicky calm that doesn’t just go.

It’s crippling.

It’s a constant hum in you ear.

I am trying not to be completely self absorbed as obviously it’s not just my anniversary. We lost a wonderful Man that weekend too.
Lives changed completely and forever that weekend.

I want to celebrate this day and remember a wonderful man too. I want to celebrate the fact that I’m on the other side. I have come through so much, continuing to do so.

But The Noise is telling me otherwise. The Noise thinks you’re setting yourself up for a fall.

At the moment, The Noise is winning.

Gut Punch

You’re aimlessly sifting through junk. You’re sorting through your dressing table and trying to assemble some semblance in your life to make everyday life a bit easier. Clear tables, clear mind and all that jazz.

Knicker drawer is next. You’ve purchase new undies to make you feel a bit lovelier so it’s time to shift the Granny pants.

It’s cathartic to sling the old life nuances and bring in some delicate prettiness.
You feel like you’re finally letting yourself be Frannie again.

But there, tucked in the drawer, folded neatly, ready to be used again is something that stops your heart.
It’s the most ridiculous item to set you off. All of a sudden you’re weeping. Tumbling tears are unstoppable.
A fucking SPD support band, which you kept ‘just in case’ is the culprit.
You sniff it and it still smells of Sanctuary Mum to Be bath salts.

You let yourself think you were ok and then you get gut punched again.

But it’s ok. Gut punches remind us we are only human. It’s ok to be overwhelmed and to have a cry.
It’s ok to keep these things too. Let it remind you that it helped you in those last 6-weeks of carrying Cub.
A tiny piece of material can evoke such emotion. But it won’t always be this way.

I promise.

Next stop, your shoes and bags.



The saying is that good things to those who wait.

It looks like my wait might be finally coming to an end.

All this waiting hopefully means that there will be stability in our lives, for a short while at least.

It might mean we actually have the ability to take James on his 1st holiday next year.
It might mean we can actually put some roots down for our little family.

My patience with universe was wearing thing. My tolerance for bullshit waning.
I work very hard and fuck me, I think I’ve paid my dues.

I’ve got to be patient for a little while longer and the reward will come.

You’ve probably guessed what this is in reference to. But I have to be shrouded for a bit longer.

I found that little pebble for a reason the other day. It gave me hope just when I really didn’t think there was any left.

This time last year I was squaring up for a fight and now it’s all change.

I hope this is the perfect book end to a truly awful year.

I need this.
I’ve worked hard for this.
I deserve this.

I will get it. Patience, come at me now.