On Monday we had artetc and a dancing lesson.
On Tuesday I went to work and busied myself there and got on with sorting out baby toys into pretty sections. While I was there, I heard that one of our suppliers sons is desperately ill and that was enough to twang a painful heartstring or two; he was very kind to us last year and I like him and I’m worried for him going through all that stress and anxiety. Then there was gym. And TKD
Wednesday we were at historyetc and that was good, not making it home till fairly late and trying to get to bed early.
Thursday I left home incredibly early and went to London, to the Toy Fair, a bit of a feat for me as I’ve not done brilliantly at that sort of thing this last year. I did fairly well, having primed myself for pictures of babies and baby stands and all the rest, then got tripped up by going to the stand of a supplier and discovering he had recently had a baby boy, who was on the stand with them. It is always the unexpected things that trip me up. The swooping sick in the stomach, the awfulness of being so glad that baby is alive and so jealous, so angry and so cross that I never got to have people cooing and saying congratulations to me for Freddie. Oh, little legs in blue babygros. How it makes me ache 🙁 It was more than I could manage anyway, I couldn’t pull myself back, so I left early and came home. I’d done all I needed to do really.
Friday Fran had a SALT appointment and the net result of that was that yes, we need to face up to another operation probably, sometime in the not too near but not never ever sort of a future. Her last op was the day I realised I might just be pregnant with Freddie. Friday was also the day I was definitely not pregnant again this month. One month left. One month before I have to stop so we don’t have an Xmas baby and a 2011 baby is a gone forever dream and hope.
And all that made the week quite stressful enough, stressful enough to avoid actually confronting that my Dad lives in the city currently headlining every news bulletin. He can’t leave, because there are not planes to get out on and so all he and we can really do is wait and hope it settles down and that nothing untoward happens.
I keep wondering when life is going to settle down and become humdrum. I keep thinking I might just wake up and none of it is real. I keep pinching myself and saying that just because I know it *could* get worse, doesn’t mean it will.