I haven't blogged for a long time, reckoning that the point of this blog is to be frothy, light entertainment, not to dump all my woes onto the reading public.
Well, having read the blog of the excellent Angela Clarke http://angelaclarke.co.uk/today-is-not-a-good-day/, and having said (as I do each time) "I wish I could write like that", I have decided it's time I blogged more regularly. Bad news as well as good. So, to update you all to the reasons why I have been off-blog.
In October last year, Prince Daddy and I had some amazing news. A new Little Prince or Princess was on the way. We decided not to tell Little Prince as we still had around 7 months to go. Losing one Little Prince to spontaneous combustion was not how we hoped to welcome our new Little Prince/ss. We cuddled our secret close and thrilled to think every time we caught each other's eye.
In November, the worst thing that could happen did. Spontaneous abortion. Miscarriage. Failed Pregnancy. So many words that just don't describe the almost physical kick to the guts that we experienced, both at the initial news stage and every time after that we saw a baby, a pregnant woman, or even children's toys. In many ways, our discretion was rewarded. We didn't have to explain to anyone why my tummy was only growing to comfort eating. There was no one comparing pregnancy symptoms who had to be upset with the news. However, the fact that we had told no one of the pregnancy meant that we also had no one to tell about the miscarriage. The doctor had no comforting words, only that "this is nature's way of telling you the pregnancy wasn't viable". She assured us that one miscarriage did not mean that any future pregnancy is at risk.
I felt that I couldn't tell Queen Mummy about what had happened. She would have been so hurt that I hadn't told her when I found out that I was pregnant although it was purely that I didn't want to steal my sister's thunder as her own baby was due a month or so later. After the miscarriage, I couldn't bear to tell either of them, to force them to confront the extreme mortality of babies, both unborn and brand new.
So Prince Daddy and I bottled up our feelings, clinging only to each other and leaning heavily on each other for support. We made sure to talk about what had happened and how we felt, what we wanted to do for the future and what we would do should it be impossible to get pregnant again. (It took us 2 years to conceive Little Prince and nearly 3 to conceive the baby now known between us as November-named for the month we lost him or her from our lives)
It has taken until now, April, 5 months later, that we feel that emotionally we are ready to start trying again and to talk about what we've been through. I have finally told Queen Mummy what happened - she is very hurt I didn't talk to her at the time, but, I think, understands that I was trying to save her from the heartache at the time.
As we were getting over this particular ordeal, we had all the joys that come with finding a "lump". After ignoring it for a month, which was decidedly NOT an appropriate response, I took my lump to the GP. She gave me an urgent referral to our local hospital Cancer Unit. Their idea of urgent is a little different from mine-it took 4 weeks to be allocated an appointment. On the spot they sent me to have my "lump" scanned and on the basis of that, a biopsy was taken the same day.
Did you know that a biopsy takes 2 weeks? Neither did I. After the longest 2 weeks of my life, I was finally called and asked to attend the unit for my results. Which, fortunately, were negative. My lump is something commonly referred to as a "breast mouse". A benign, small, mobile lump that is easily moved around.
Although my lump must be monitored, I am aware of how very lucky I am, and how lucky the whole Mummy Clan is in general to be so healthy. I give thanks each and every day to God for blessing us as he has.
And on days like today, when I am so tired I can barely walk, when I fall asleep walking home after dropping Little Prince at school, and when the worst that happens is that I spend the day dozing on the couch while Prince Daddy picks up the slack, I thank God that I have Prince Daddy and some amazing friends who love me as I am, narcolepsy and all, who think nothing of coming to see me - and not being offended when I spend most of the visit either sleeping openly, or in a looks-awake-but-is-actually-asleep-and-talking-rubbish state.
As we were getting over this particular ordeal, we had all the joys that come with finding a "lump". After ignoring it for a month, which was decidedly NOT an appropriate response, I took my lump to the GP. She gave me an urgent referral to our local hospital Cancer Unit. Their idea of urgent is a little different from mine-it took 4 weeks to be allocated an appointment. On the spot they sent me to have my "lump" scanned and on the basis of that, a biopsy was taken the same day.
Did you know that a biopsy takes 2 weeks? Neither did I. After the longest 2 weeks of my life, I was finally called and asked to attend the unit for my results. Which, fortunately, were negative. My lump is something commonly referred to as a "breast mouse". A benign, small, mobile lump that is easily moved around.
Although my lump must be monitored, I am aware of how very lucky I am, and how lucky the whole Mummy Clan is in general to be so healthy. I give thanks each and every day to God for blessing us as he has.
And on days like today, when I am so tired I can barely walk, when I fall asleep walking home after dropping Little Prince at school, and when the worst that happens is that I spend the day dozing on the couch while Prince Daddy picks up the slack, I thank God that I have Prince Daddy and some amazing friends who love me as I am, narcolepsy and all, who think nothing of coming to see me - and not being offended when I spend most of the visit either sleeping openly, or in a looks-awake-but-is-actually-asleep-and-talking-rubbish state.
