Groundhog day

Every time I think I can look people in the eye and say ‘I’m finally ok with this’ (and mean it!) something happens that sends me flying back to the start.

When I splat into the wall I feel like I’m losing my mind. I feel trapped, uncertain and miserable. Anger and resentment spills out of me and covers the man I am trying to be ok with this for.

Last night he told me he found holding his friends new baby difficult because it reminded him his son lives far away.  I blurted out ‘but we could have our own!’ And the night fell apart. I felt dizzy and confused and hopeful and powerless and jealous and sad and angry. I felt all of those things and now I’m feel tired and spun out. Worried and indecisive. Weak.

Once again he has said no to a child of our own. He can look me in the eye and unwaveringly mean it. He has one, he doesn’t need another one. It’s up to me to park my desire or move on.

Simple choices to make if you don’t love the man giving you the options so much you want the baby with him alone.




One of the things I miss the most right now is sleep. I just want to sleep.  I’ll do anything to sleep!

I’m too tired to chase It. It’s like being on drugs!

Don’t fuck with me sleep. I’ll be there at 10.30pm. Don’t let me down.

I want the kind of sleep you see on the television. Warm bed, soft pyjamas, steaming mug of milk. Big stretch. Smile at the day just done. Excited glance towards a cute bell topped alarm clock – ‘what will tomorrow bring?’ Comforting snuggle into the fresh deep bedding and …SLEEP!


Pretty sure I’ll drop off for an hour then treat myself to several hours of anxious worry, regret, self loathing and trust issues.


Trying to take the hit…

When I was a little girl I had a baby doll so realistic the neighbours thought they’d missed an arrival. Dad bought me cars and taught me how to fix things in the garage but the programming had already begun.

I just expected to be a mum one day. I had a marrow deep certainty. That’s what girls do. You know, have babies. Become mums. Mum, mother, mummy, mama, ma, mom, mere, that’s the goal for the girl with the hole.

Not having fulfilled life’s expectation haunts me. Follows me around like an evil entity taking my energy, my self esteem, my self worth, taking my fucking happiness!

Physically my body was up for kids you know. It tried once without me knowing but something went bang (I went bang) and it was just me again. It tried again a few years later but my head went bang and health and finances won over life. Back to just me I ran.

I’d run back to the clinic if I could. All melting make up and sorry, I didn’t mean it.  Please take me back. I’ll be a good mummy I promise.

Too little too late isn’t it?!

I killed my baby and now the man I’m with doesn’t want a child.  He already has one!

Guess I need to talk about it…