Is it me, or does writing the very first post for a blog always suck like a trombone full of whiskey? I would like to introduce myself, explain my situation (pertinent details only), be chirpy and interesting, hope to contribute something of value and interest to the blogging community.
Actually, I just need somewhere to vent. Oh, and throw things, and if necessary empty out the trombone and get maudlin. And these are things the rest of the world is not really interested in having to deal with. I’d like to say I can’t say I blame it, but I so do.
I am thirty-one, happily married, no career to speak of (happens to the best of us. Yes, I do have a job), and greatly desiring a child. I also have only one ovary and fallopian tube, PCOS in the remaining ovary, at least five stone of spare lard, and I think I may have ovulated spontaneously, ooh, maybe twice in my life? It bodes exceedingly well, does it not?
Just last week a very dear friend asked me how I was. And I very nearly answered ‘oh, tired, you know. I’ve had my period for, let me see, thirty-five days on the trot now, and I think all the iron has been leached from my body, and I don’t think I can possibly get pregnant at this rate, and I’m a bit bloody depressed about it, since you ask.’ Sanity intervened just about after ‘oh, tired, you know.’ But I spent the rest of the evening in a state of seething resentment. Why can’t I discuss this with friends and family?
Apart from the way they twitch and change the subject and in extreme cases run away.
Or worse still, tell me to ‘just relax’.
So here I am, discussing it. So there. I am sure more and many and gratuitous details of my life and innards will emerge as and when.