I’m home after a hectic couple of days at a branding meeting in Leicester for my kid’s clothing company, Quack Quack Moo. It was fantastic but I’m exhausted. I had a banging headache the whole tedious trip of the M25 while being cut up by Audi drivers who obviously pay a unique road tax that allows them to drive like imbeciles. The journey was then made even more glorious by feeling dizzy every now and then; probably due to my glasses. In fact, I really need to get my eyes tested because this prescription is definitely wrong.
I finally get home after what feels like an eternity & the enormity of the branding meeting suddenly hits me and I feel sick with all the work I need to do in preparation for the big launch… BUT my lovely husband has cooked a delicious gammon dinner with my favourite honey and mustard glaze, so at least I can relax now I’m home and forget about all of that until later this evening.
Once the kids are in bed, I start to go through my diary to work out my business meetings for the rest of the week, but shit, what!? Looking in my diary, I have just realised I’m 10 days late for my period. That can’t be right. Suddenly, I remembered my panic in March when I thought I was going to be ‘on’ while away on my pink fizz fuelled girly weekend away in Puerto Banus, but as luck would have it, I was all “sorted” 2 days before we left. Phew.
Now the pieces of the puzzle are coming together at a rapid pace in my mind, and I start to sweat and feel even more sick: late for my period, dizzy, headaches, bizarre cramps in my stomach that I put down to period pain and… I seem to have a fascinating array of ass acoustics going on. I’m not usually one for an anal bark, but I appear to be bottom blasting like it’s going out of fashion. Maybe it’s the honey and mustard sauce, or maybe… No, I can’t be pregnant, I’ve got the Mirena Coil, and it’s not due to be changed until November. There’s no way I can be pregnant. I’m clearly stressed and overdoing things. Stress can do crazy things to your body and your mind.
I decide that the only medication I need is a long, deep, bubble bath, and the world will be a better place. However, this is where I discover that the contraception that is said to be one of the best, clearly isn’t because without going into detail, it’s not there.
Shut the front door and call the milkman!? This cannot be happening!!! I remember that I have a pregnancy test loitering at the back of the cupboard that is likely to be collecting dust and probably out of date, but it will do in an emergency. All that’s going through my mind is “I can’t be. I shouldn’t be… I could be.” And yep, there it is that fateful little blue cross.
A few moments go by, and I walk straight out of the bathroom and utter the words “you’re not going to believe this, I’m pregnant” to Beard. I expected an immediate reaction. Something. Anything. But instead, he stared at the fish tank for about an hour, slept on the sofa, and there started the worst week of my life and the start of this blog.