Inwardly tuned

It's been a funny old week or two.

I think the exhaustion of the last four years, and particularly the last one, has hit. I think the exhaustion of IVF, and the exhaustion created by the day in day out anxiety of that awful first trimester has settled in my bones. The husband looks like he's been hit by a train. I think we've both of us perhaps finally turned around and come face to face with the lot of it.

I'm not talking black-holes by the way, so don't worry that we're both sobbing our way through boxes and boxes of tissues. We're just knackered. He's playing xbox and I'm making brownies and pikelets and sticking change into No.9's money box.

I felt No.9 move for the first time just over a week ago. A barely-there-could-be-gas sensation that left me waiting, inwardly tuned. I was sitting in bed and I can't remember whether I'd just finished reading No.9 his/her nightly instalment of Winnie the Pooh, or whether I was still reading, but either way, there was Winnie the Pooh involved. I felt this sensation of bubbles. Tiny little bubbles, like you'd possibly imagine a fizzy drink to feel like if you opened it inside yourself, and then it was gone. Hardly there, and yet most definitely there. My first thought was, there you are before wondering if it was gas. I'd eaten an entire pizza for tea (home made - the husband makes the best pizzas ever) so gas was definitely an option.

Then the next morning, I was in the car on my way to work and there it was again. I felt a little tap tap, on the same side and then bubbles which started on my right, moved across my stomach, then settled.

And that's when the exhaustion really set in - mental, physical, emotional, complete exhaustion. It's the strangest sense of being absolutely disconnected from the world at large, and disinterested to boot. We're very much in our own little world over here.

We're just really really tired, and it's only just started to settle on me, and the husband, that we're having a baby. This thing that every effort has gone into for so long, is happening. The realisation hit with the bubbles. I'm four months pregnant and I'm feeling the baby move. The pain I was all all through those first three months has largely lifed, my last bleed was over a month ago, puking has gone from a dozen times a day to a few times a week, and the little troll is making sure we know it's there and by growing fast. It's the strangest, most wonderful, terrifying thing.

And I'm guessing that my inability to stop organising and cleaning is part of the fun too huh? I even ventured into the husband's garage on the organising front. Of course, I took one look and ventured out again double-quick, but, the impulse was there. We have though spent a large part of the weekend getting rid of boxes and boxes of crap, making way for new beginnings, and new crap. There were two boxes full of cleaning/hair/assorted other products which have been sitting out there for a year and a half (since I cleaned out the bathroom for the bathroom redo) which are now, screw the environment (just this once - I'm cleaning and organising compulsively yes, but I can't be arsed washing out several tonnes of bottles), sitting in a rubbish bag waiting for Wednesday morning for example.

So, anywho, I think I'm just going to take the next few weeks very quietly and see how things settle. I'll see you when I see you, but otherwise, don't be expecting any bloggy genius from this direction because all you're likely to find is a snoozy Ginger trying to get dog-related mud splatters off the wall.