Fed up…

Not pregnant this month, again.

My “period”, i.e. two days of spotting, arrived on Easter Sunday.

I kind of want to speak to my gynaecologist again for reassurance, but I’m not sure what he’d say, or even how to go about it.

My mother currently isn’t speaking to me because we didn’t go to a family gathering on Monday, that they’d organised without asking us and just expected us to go. We were feeling a bit too sad and just wanted some time alone with each other, the only people we know who truly understand how each other feels. I don’t think that’s so wrong. Apparently my mother does.

On the plus side, using a very complicated plan b, we exchanged on the house we wanted (the exchange on ours hasn’t gone through yet, but if it doesn’t, we’ll keep it and rent it). So in a few months, we’re moving to the countryside. Ish. There are about 5 pubs within staggering distance.

And I had a group interview for a degree course last night. Weirdest interview ever. It’s amazing what some people wear to an interview.


6 responses to “Fed up…

  1. Ah, lovey. So sorry. Surely a buzz to Gynae’s secretary would result in an appointment for you?

    Moving south towards me, or north, away?!

  2. Tsk. Families. They’ll get over it. In the meantime concentrate on what is good for you.

  3. South! Yay!

    If you like, I’ll come over and sneer at your family for you. I do a very good sneer, complete with Eyebrow of Scorn and Withering Glance. I am reliably informed it leaves people feeling like beetles.

    If you have the strength and can bear the hassle, bother your gynaecologist. Unfairly, the squeaky wheel gets the oil. Not sure what sort of oil they can provide, as such, but if they have ANY, you should get it.

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