I missed you. I'm back.

Yes, I am back. I am sorry for the long break. I did miss you, and have been checking on some of you a little . . .

Actually I have been having a strange old time, and wondered for a while if this blogging was really doing me any good, but I miss you all, and just because I may never be pregnant again . . . but I am getting ahead of myself.

A quick update – the holiday was FULL OF SNOW which actually eventually drove us off our planned route, which was a shame but we did lots of good stuff anyway. I also, unfortunately, managed to get the worst cold that I can remember having in YEARS, but I think, strangely, it allowed other members of the group to use me as an excuse to bail out of the high altitude stuff with 2 feet of snow on the ground. Glaciers are pretty dangerous when you can’t see the crevasses which lie under a layer of soft snow . . .

Anyway, that was the holiday. R and I are going away to Brittany for a long weekend at the end of this month to have a relaxing break, as the 2 weeks in Austria really couldn’t be described as relaxing. Oh, and the middle finger of my left hand is still very swollen nearly 4 weeks after hurting it when I fell off some rocks. (Fortunately I was roped to R and another when it happened, and fortunately I didn’t land on my head. The finger injury seemed a small price to pay, but is still painful. I will go and see a doctor eventually, I promise).

Then there has been a bit of a saga with this supposed pelvic infection. I have had all sorts of tests and swabs and smears (ugh!) but they have all shown up clear. Now my doctor thinks maybe it IS digestive after all. I am frustrated and angry, and have also been very upset by my GP’s insinuation that my physical symptoms (lower abdominal pain) are almost certainly due to ‘my pumping myself full of drugs’. I wonder if he would have had the same attitude if I had managed to keep the baby? Why are people so smug? He doesn’t even mean it, but every time I drag myself back to see my GP I seem to end up in tears again. It is wearing me out.

And so, worn out, I find I have little energy to put into writing this stuff down. I thought maybe a break would do me good – and actually, if I am honest, I think it does help me to stop obsessing so much – get on with today instead of spending my time thinking of what nearly was, what might have been.

And then I think . . . can I write a blog about recurring miscarriages when I don’t really believe I will get pregnant again. How can I get pregnant? What would be the point? Since the weight of medical opinion appears to believe that I am just too old. . . well, I didn’t get any younger since the last m/c, and I really don’t think I am about to. It makes me angry and sad, but I think they have worn me down. I am just too old. Bad eggs, bad body, bad me. Or not good enough.

And I am stuck a bit in a little world where going forward and say, adopting, is fraught with difficulties and new questions – I need to be confident and stable to face the prospect of social services inquisitions . . .

One day I will be confident and stable.

Ha!

More soon - I promise!