About 5 months ago, my husband’s cousin arranged to come over from the USA with his new girlfriend. This weekend we were supposed to all be going up to London to Stamford Bridge to see Chelsea play – we have the occasional use of the Husband’s Uncle’s season tickets – practically pitchside at the halfway line. The only thing better would be an executive box, but beggars can’t be choosers!
I can’t go. So the other 3 will still be going… and leaving me on my own with my first solo day with the Boy since before I was admitted to hospital. I’m terrified.
Last weekend when I came home I was so unreasonably sick, and felt awful. I had friends over on the Saturday which was lovely – but the act of sitting on the sofa and talking to them was enough to wipe me out for 48 hours. I felt like I was back to square one.
I feel like I’m scared of my own child. That’ s wrong isn’t it?
Yesterday he gave me a big hug, kissed me on the cheek, and said “Mummy best friend”. I cried. I cannot believe that such a wonderful, impish little creature belongs to me. It reminds me that after this is all done, and I have a baby in my arms, then I can start to enjoy life again. He reminds me why I’m going through this. And for that, I love him more.