Crazy Mama

After a bit of a hiatus languishing in a heady state of depression, I am now at least conscious enough to string a sentence together and motivated enough to sit up at an angle conducive to typing. Hello there! I apologise for my absence, I will make efforts to keep up with my blog for my lovely readers and my own sanity.

Enough of my cloud of depression, I will elaborate on that another day, for now I would like to talk about fertility.

I fell pregnant with my first two children very easily and I have always been confident in the fact that I am just one of the lucky ones... A fertile Myrtle... Proudly wearing my childbearing hips as a badge of honour and always being very careful not to take unnecessary risks like rubbing up close against hairy men in bars... Well it is a sign of virility!

I had been trying to fall pregnant for a third time for so long that I couldn't even remember the old me. The new me pee’d on ovulation sticks regularly, charted my cycle, demanded sex with GF only when necessary and spurned his affections when he was no longer required. Post coital affection had been replaced with shoving him out of bed so I had more room to elevate my legs while scribbling a note of the encounter on my calendar. Needless to say, our previously functional relationship became seriously strained. We were no longer transmitting on the same frequency and the fault was mine. Hello, is anyone out there? These days you’ll be able to pick up my signal on radio hormental.

So I took a stand and ditched my crazy ways in favour of a happy home life. Fate took over and I am over the moon to learn that I am pregnant. I don't know whether it was my stress levels and preoccupation bordering on the obsessive that stopped me from conceiving, all I know is that I don't have to think about ovulation charts for a while, and that my happy news has lifted me out of the darkness.

Now I can focus on the future. And how big my bum looks in those maternity jeans!