This little bundle of cells has brought me more happiness in five weeks than you could probably have mustered up in a lifetime.
[Admittedly it's got me just as paranoid but that's a compromise I'm willing to make.]
So, for those checking my blog on a daily basis (and noticing that two entries have been condemned to the recesses of 'I totally never wrote that') - Annie Phetamine is five weeks pregnant and all being well, intends to begin her collection of Pokem...I mean 'family'...late October.
On that note, I've written something new
To I, our one bedroom,
One bathroom home,
You first made yourself known.
Didn't hesitate to stipulate
Ground rule designation
For our cohabitation;
When, one week late, I awoke
To discover the smell of smoke
Which I could locate from
Across to road, knocked me sick.
I couldn't look twice at a drink.
In four weeks you've kicked
Every habit I'd picked up
In twenty years without an us.
I'm eating my five a day
Snacking on delectable
Whose names I can't even say.
Popping vitamins as though
Radio 4 had just announced a
Terrorist warning had been taken out
On every Holland & Barrett
Avoid dried meats,
'Keep calm and drink tea'
No longer applies, you see,
Because I am perpetually fucking stressed.
Each twinge has me running to the Internet
Where other mums-to-be amidst
'Three miscarriages and one ectopic pregnancy'
From Tennessee, do their best
To both reassure and put the fear of God up me.
Currently, you're the size of a sesame seed,
But in two more weeks
You'll have an audible heartbeat.
© Annie Phetamine