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An Official Announcement - I'm Knocked Up


Yes I got knocked up, but not by Robbie the creep. (If you know, you know)

This weeks post is a personal one. While talk does centre around my cervix I promise not to mention trimesters.

Let me get straight into it with a cervical fact - Did you know that the average woman's cervix is 4cm long? Mine, courtesy of last years wretched encounter with cervical cancer, is now only 9mm and what the medical world would term 'incompetent'. Triffic. 

Hello cervical stitch. Also triffic. Remind me to add Cervial cerclage to my National Record of Achievement.

To cut a long story short (no pun intended), that's me skipping cross stitch for the foreseeable.
Chuck into the mix an ectopic pregnancy (also of last year) and it's safe to say that Oliver and I are now more than happy to be looking forward to the arrival of our first child this November.

Should fate allow, we'll soon be saying hello to a little boy and having the longest cuddle that ever there was... (with the baby, not each other, although I suppose there's no saying how the mood might take me when I neck that first glass of long awaited perfectly chilled Bolli)

N.B. Who am I kidding? By the end of all this my 'lady garden' is going to be shot at. I'm under no illusions.


It's been a fair old rocky ride so far. A few unexpected bumps in the road, a few humdingers and a few worried nights, but then that's life for all of us I suppose. Besides, the harder the journey, the more memorable a memoir.

So for this summer anyway, I'll mainly be taking things easy, waiting for the heatwave to pass while wearing floaty clothes and scrunchies because my thicker hair has started to resemble a badly made wig. I'll be whiling away the days wondering why my local shops don't stock any remotely fashionable maternity wear and hoping that fates gynaecological challenges have all but done with me. 

N.B. Pretty please


I know that I've been lucky and I always feel I aught to note that. Although I've skirted with some terrible things, I don't let myself forget that it could have been a lot worse. 

If I hadn't have been diagnosed with cervical cancer at the time that I was and at Stage 1, I wouldn't have found out that last years pregnancy was ectopic as early as just two weeks in. Had things been different I would have found out instead, after weeks of excitement, when the pain found me.

Things had a funny, though hard, way of working themselves out in the end, and I try to keep the faith that this will always be the way. An underlying order hidden underneath seeming chaos.
  
Having said that, it is in the back of my mind that it's not November yet and I most definitely do not want to count my chickens but at some point it becomes easier to let go and to trust.


If nothing else, thanks to my 9mm cervix, although doing a stirling job so far, I single handedly have the proof ladies that size does matter.

Perhaps not the most appropriate time to poke fun at manhood dimensions and possibly a tad pot calling kettle, but there you have it. The thought came to me and I'm going with it.

Thanks so much for reading.

Love,
Elaine x

*hums Dolly Parton's Sometimes It's Hard To Be A Woman

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