Day One: A delivery, a sharps box and a neurotic brain

So, after the last year of trips back and forth along the traffic fueled early morning A14, the day has finally arrived. The day of excitement, the day I actually wake up with a belly that advises me it is nervous for me, great! The day I have woken after a shite nights sleep of sweating like a hot dog in a over tight bun. Today is the day that The Beard and I embark on our  journey to become parents.

I am honestly not sure why I  feel so terrified at the possibility of having something that we've longed for, for so long, I think maybe the fact my delicious Co-op trifles in the fridge have now been replaced by boxes and boxes of Follitropin Alfa and Vaginal gel. Maybe its the way that my beautiful vase that was once my late mothers pride and joy, has now been replaced with a sharps bin and endless packs of needles? Thinking about it, it may well be that indeed, I mean having recently watched Trainspotting again, the images I have after administering my first injection, to myself, swiftly then see me diving into my toilet half an hour later, and after my anxiety belly, all sorts of panic keeps hitting me in waves.

It may also be the fear of the absolute devil woman I am about to become. I mean, ask anyone that knows me, or has even had the grace to be in my presence for, most people would say 1 week out of 4, but for me, 3 weeks out of 4. I. AM. A. BITCH. I guess its been great to actually find out during all this, that there is a reason for me being mental, my hormone levels are ridiculously high, so high that it kind of gives some explanation for some of my past experiences, two of my most memorable being;

1. Crying over a snickers bar, just because it tastes so good, and I don't mean crying of laughter, I'm talking about getting into a ball and sobbing on the floor rocking back and forth, panicking The Beard, who found me in this position, me being unable to give him an explanation as to why I was so out of control, him asking 'who's died' whilst I hold a very unsteady hand out clutching a half eaten snickers towards him and just manage to say 'yum' through my sobs. 
2. Throwing a tantrum because the beard cooked me dinner, yes he cooked me dinner, how dare he, I mean most women would love their husband to do this, not me, I just told him to shove his green beans up his ass and to never speak to me again, then proceeded to cry upstairs in the bedroom for 2 hours, snap chatting my poor friends on a Friday night in a mess, because to me, that is a totally normal thing to do! 

So after 23 years of a delightful menstrual cycle, I have become used to being an utter nightmare to be around, but knowing that at the age of 36, I'm about to embark on the delightful menopause and then come back out of menopause, all in a 3 week turn around, may explain my anxiety slightly. 

I have a great man beside me, The Beard,I am so grateful to have someone that takes so much unnecessary abuse,  I do not know how he will cope, I imagine it will involve him popping off to his gym to lift and throw heavy things, but he does cope ever so well being married to a grade a mentalist. I have a BBF (boy best friend) that takes equally as much abuse from me, because hes a boy, I guess I feel he wont retaliate, and that isn't fair as he has been wonderfully supportive of my meltdowns, I have so many wonderful friends, all of which have seen my desperation for changing shitty nappies, kissing a babies head and the want of a bump, not just a fat belly. All of which I know will be there with me every step of the way, and today, day one, I thank each and everyone of you and wish you the best of luck over the next 12 weeks. I also am lucky enough to have a massive family with an abundance of support and they are partially to blame for my want to be a mother, mean they made me an Auntie at 5 years old, so what did they expect! 

So I have decided to write the contents of my confused, slightly delirious head, to mainly help me, this way I can kind of talk to myself, without other people around me thinking I am mad, and I can process things, maybe just so I feel I am talking about it all, without having to say it over and over to many different people, I  do not have the explanation, but I am sure that within the next 12 weeks, I'll have many a words to say, type and scream and shout. So I am going to have a normal afternoon now at my very supportive work, I say normal, it is never normal here, and then I go home, look at all the medication in horror, try to calm my shaking hands, and get this ball rolling with my first injection. 

Watch this space! 

Desperate Mummy to Be XX