Aren't you brave?

In the past three days, about half a dozen people have told me they think I'm very brave to be going through All That again. I'm getting better at just saying "thank you," or whatever, but the truth is, it didn't take much bravery at all, really.

It took far more courage to face the fact that I might never have another pregnancy. The courage it took to have sex, to get pregnant, to contact midwives and doctors, to go to hospital, to research and plan the c-section, to stand up for what I want even when actual doctors with real authority don't like it? Piddling. Never being pregnant again was a truly terrifying thing. I attribute the drop in panic attack frequency and intensity, and the accompanying return of sleep, serenity, and domestic harmony to our lives, at least partially to my beloved teddy-bear beaded-flip-flop-wearing gynaecologist telling me that I could carry another pregnancy, even if I couldn't deliver vaginally. Basically, we went and got me pregnant the very next time I ovulated.

It's true that I've always gone straight back out and done the scary thing; when I first moved to England I promptly fractured both elbows (three fractures along the length of the bones in one arm, meeting at the joint, and two in the other, also meeting at the joint) ice-skating. As soon as my arms had healed enough to dress myself properly again, I got Rob to take me back to the ice-rink. It worked. And largely because going new places and meeting new people was terrifying for me, I made a point of going to all the afpmeets I could. That worked, too, though I was still crying with panic when I first went to Sweden. It's a tactic that works for me. Without it, my life would be unbearably restricted by now, because, well, enough nasty things have happened to me that avoiding the whole thing would be extremely, er, restrictive.

(OK, the phrase "Feel the fear and do it anyway" is sitting in my head begging to be said, so here we go, I've said it, though I don't believe I've read the book.)

The point is. The point is. The point is. Um. Probably that I don't feel terribly brave. I wouldn't be doing any of this if I could see pleasanter options. There aren't any. this is the leastest worstest path for me to take, so I'm taking it. It's still bloody difficult, yes. And I really appreciate when people acknowledge it - which is what "You're so brave!" remarks are doing. But I don't see much in the way of alternatives that don't involve rewriting my personality, and it took me long enough to write this one.

A day off, apparently

Linnea seems to be having a day off. She woke in a good mood, but refused to eat even the breakfast foods she asked for, having milk instead (incidentally, I like sitting beside the jasmine in the morning cloud-filtered sunshine feeding a toddler who is getting visible comfort from it and who can say "thank you" afterwards. We must trim the jasmine more often so it flowers more). She was then a bit whiny and subdued, but refused bread and butter, bread and jam, porridge, bananas - all her usual foods, nu-uh. I suggested television, and she was pleased by that; she's sitting quietly watching telly now.

Soon I'll try to feed her some solid food again, and take her to the co-op and the library on the bus. We need to swap books over, and I want her to have another go at buying something; she's done handing-over-money-and-giving-me-the-change only once before, as far as we know. She seemed to enjoy it. She also likes giving the librarian the books to get checked out, though actually letting go of the books can pose problems.

I'm hoping that the time vegetating in front of the telly will rejuvenate her enough to go out. It's very unusual behaviour for her unless she's ill. Normally if she wants quiet she'll take cuddles or drawing or reading or being read to. Still, it's about a week since she last watched TV so perhaps she just wanted to. Who knows?

She has started choosing wordier books from the library, and she tends to learn them off by heart after only one or two readings, where it used to take a lot of repetition. She still mainly reads to herself, except for bedtime and occasional cuddly reading sessions. If I want to read to her I need to produce a book she hasn't seen before :)

The Great Handbag Dilemma

My handbag has a hole in it. I need another one. It needs space for my phone, my wallet which incorporates a filofax, my sunscreen, my antacids, and my keys. The one which has just died used to also contain a pack of pencils and a drawing pad, and a small toddler first aid kit.

*Ideally* it also should be small enough to fit into the nappy bag so that I only need to carry one bag around when that's what I'm doing.

I have stacks of bags. None of them appear suitable. The best sized one is multicoloured stripes but not waterproof and the colours will run as soon as anyone sicks up on it. The other favourite is blue denim, but the colours run and it has a small hole in it I fully intend to mend one day.

I want a small, bright bag with a few seperate pockets, waterproof, big enough for all my stuff including long enough for a biro, which doesn't weigh much, will wipe clean inside and out, and, preferably, has a link to a black hole somewhere for extra storage space.

before baby comes

• Get the spare room ready for my mother to stay in, including freecycling loads of stuff.


• Pay storage bill.


• Pay Mastercard bill.


• Flea-treat three cats again.


• Get a bookcase full of books out of our bedroom. Maybe two.


• Make space in our bedroom for the Moses basket.


• Launder all the baby clothes, bedding and nappies that have been in the attic.


• Buy PJs for hospital.


• Pack hospital bag.


• Buy sleepsuits! Baby only has onesies so far.


• Buy nipple salve, since the tube I have leftover from my daughter has vanished (I didn't need it for long, but when I needed it, I needed it).