Item: Hell Boy II inadvertantly set off a rather large bomb in the May household.
Item: Spoiler alert.
Item: There’s a bit where it is posited in heart-felt seriousness that Hell Boy needs a reason to live, and that reason turns out to be impending fatherhood. Which is well and good, and H squeezed my hand very tightly for that bit.
Item: Incidentally, the plot of that film is all over the place. Seriously. It lurched from non-sequitur to McGuffin to nonsense. Also, Luke Goss makes a startlingly good pissed-off Fairy Prince. And I still enjoyed it rather a lot.
Item: So where was I? Oh, yes. Bomb chez May. H and I were discussing the movie, as you do, and, after a pause, I casually asked if the hand-squeezing had been on my behalf or H’s own behalf. And H said ‘For me…’ – and I thought, oh, thank God, thank God – ‘But mostly for you.’ And I burst into tears. And H couldn’t for the life of him work out why. Can you work out why? I ended up sat on the top of the stairs (prime howling location) bawling that I felt so alone and that I was the only person who cared that I’d had a miscarriage or remembered it. H pointed out quite firmly that he did care. I demanded why he didn’t show it then, sob sob. H stood there looking bewildered. Because I had enough to deal with without dealing with H’s grief as well, of course.
Item: At this point, I was crying so hard that a small calm inner observer was pointing out that I had pretty much stopped breathing, and that going blue about the lips and sliding to the floor unconscious was certainly one way of getting out of the argument. Am I the only woman afflicted with a small calm inner observer who treats any and all ongoing dramas like a good episode of Blake’s 7?
Item: I explained, I think, to H, that actually, I felt that as I was the only person who minded about Pikaia, I daren’t forget her or stop grieving for a second. Because I had an anembryonic miscarriage, because there was not and never had been an embryo. That all the existance Pikaia ever had was in our hearts and minds, and if no one cared, Pikaia would not only no longer exist, but have never existed at all. And I couldn’t bear that. And I had been trying to not think about it while I finished my dissertation, so I could finish the sodding dissertation, and yet not daring to put it out of my mind, see above, and no one else would take over the minding for me. In fact, were putting me under pressure to forget about her.
Item: At least, that’s what I meant to say. I highly suspect that what with the howling and failing to breathe, all that was coming out was a succession of bubbling noises.
Item: Anyway, end result, H does care. And is very sad and frustrated. And was trying to spare me. So. Much hugging and kissing and blowing of noses on both sides.
Item: I suspect I shall be a lot calmer hereafter. I hope so. Because that sucked. Hugely.
Item: Satsuma is working her way v-e-e-e-r-r-r-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y towards ovulation. OPKs each ever so slightly darker than the day before’s, but so far not actually positive. Satsuma herself increasingly owie and pingy. Temperatures trundling along below 36 C. And so on. And H and I are nobly and determindly carrying on with the Plan. This being day 17 of the cycle already, we’re, well, still surprisingly enthusiastic. Good for us.
Item: Going on holiday in a week’s time. And clearly not before-time.