Time to Share the Sh*t

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.

The Wanderer Returns

Hi All,

Apologies for the looooong delay in blogging - I'm a cra- um, rubbish blogger and I deserve to be flogged!!! (ooh, how very 50 shades!!!) or "blogged" as Prince Daddy has just said, reading over my shoulder.

Soo, a brief explanation of where I've been and what's happened to the Mummy Clan in the last 12 months. I believe I last left you with news of my broken fingers and broken foot. Well! Prince Daddy went one better just a fortnight later and incurred an injury of his very own.  On the Wednesday, he headed off to rugby practice as usual and, just 30 minutes later, Princess Mummy received a very apologetic call from the captain saying "we're sorry but Prince Daddy is being loaded into an ambulance cos we, um, might have dislocated his ankle. A little bit."

Although I don't remember what I actually said, (something along the lines of "I lent you my hubby and you broke him?!") apparently, he came off the phone in tears and when sympathised with by the men talking about shouting women, he said I had not shouted, and, upon returning the phone to Prince Daddy, whispered that his wife was "a bit scary."

Without a LittlePrinceSitter, I was left stranded at the castle, waiting for news of my darling Prince Daddy, which did not arrive until silly o'clock the next day when a nurse phoned to tell me that Prince Daddy was not the hardy Welshman I was promised on our wedding day, but a rather more fragile knock off version.  As advertised, he had dislocated the ankle, but in an effort to win the injury ratings game, he had also snapped the end of the bone and would be looking at weeks in hospital as well as multiple surgeries.

So that covers where I have been-fulfilling my marital duties and taking care of Prince Daddy in his hours (or months) of need.

Strangely, having Prince Daddy incapacitated has done wonders for the Mummy clan-and not because I am some Kathy Bates in Misery kind of micromanager. (Although that may be part of it all). Having Prince Daddy laid up for the greater part of 6 months has meant that I have been forced to confront my narcolepsy and its limitations in a new way. As well as accepting the things that I cannot do, I have also learned that there are a number of things that I CAN do-with the right help. 

For example, although I cannot just get a bus or take a long journey on a whim, I have discovered that I CAN however take Little Prince to school on my own.  Something I would never have dreamed of doing before Prince Daddy's "little accident". I also learned the value of good friends. People who looked out for me on the way to and from school, who picked me up when I went splat, who phoned to see if I needed shopping and who simply came to sit with me when I had a bad day. 

To these people, who I will thank by name, breaking my own rules of anonymity, I must say thank you- for teaching me that admitting I need help and asking for it, are not signs of weakness, but of a great strength. To S, who gave me the gift of seeing her own weaknesses, hidden inside one of the strongest women I know. To M who ran innumerable errands, making out he was going shopping when he wouldn't have been if I hadn't needed that milk and cat food at eleven  o'clock at night. To my beautiful R who realised that I needed a wife, a friend, and someone to keep me on track, as well as being an emergency contact at school for when I was sleeping.  And to N who shared her pregnancy and all it's joys and trials, letting me give advice when it wasn't really needed but I needed to feel useful.

Prince Daddy has long referred to my friends and sisters as The Coven, but now, I feel that we are truly a sisterhood.  Yes M, even you.  This post has become a touch sappy, but without these amazing people, I would never have got through the last year. I would not have coped with single parenthood-however brief. Then I would not have written my children's stories.  Without them, and the encouragement of Prince Daddy, I would never have had the courage to submit them for publication, or felt the joy of seeing them in print.  And wouldn't be sitting here now, propped up against a surprisingly healthy Prince Daddy, typing away whilst Little Prince sleeps the sleep of the justly cheeky in his Thomas the Tank duvet.

Thank you all.  Princess Mummy, brought to you by The Coven haha.