On losing one's shit, and pulling it back together.

Thankyou, friends, for your lovely comments on my last post. One big hurdle over. Now to write the thesis...

I didn't know how to write this post, or even whether to write it. We are not at our best bloggy selves when we feel very over it. Yet today I have managed to find a some inner peace and some perspective.

Friends, it has been a bit of a trying week here. Please click away if you don't like swearing. Though I suspect if you found swearing very objectionable, you would have stopped reading this blog long ago.

There have been a lot of sighs, and a lot of "I just literally can't even..."

It started last Sunday with the lofty goal of a 15.5km run, the annual Run for the Kids. I wanted to have one last crack at this event, having done it a few times.

Unfortunately, at 6.5km, just as I was getting into it, I sustained this. (I gracefully went A over T just before the Bolte Bridge). I rolled my ankle and grazed my knee.

And the ankle looked like this a couple of days later

And the week at work was spent hobbling around, muttering under my breath "ow....fuck" every time there was an uneven surface.

One only realises how fast they go when they are forced to slow down. And I have not taken well to it, with the demands of work being the same, if not a little more this week.

And one only realises the equilibrating effects of exercise when exercise is restricted. Still, I did a yoga and a crossfit session, with modifications.

Those two little lines on the ovulation piddle stick did not translate into two little lines on the pregnancy piddle stick this week. With the ball not having been shot through the hoop (so to speak), the later week brought with it the usual ugly hormotionality (thankyou SSG for that turn of phrase).

Friday was my mum's 60th birthday. I organised the celebrations, the cake. The only thing I could not do was find a "0" candle, hence she blew a "6" candle out. Oh, to be 6 again...

The night was wrapping up. Though we were sitting across the table from each other, my sister sent me a text. Essentially it was along the lines of "hi this was very unexpected but I am 9 weeks pregnant".

I practiced my usual social conditioning of smiling, saying "congratulations, that is wonderful, how exciting". On the inside, I was crumpling. A little like this.

And a few minutes later, as my sister's boyfriend was bragging about his super powerful sperm, my brother looked at me and said "are you ok?".

At that point I excused myself. I calmly walked out of the restaurant. Once safely out on the street I burst into tears, and hailed a cab.


I remembered that episode on Offspring where Nina tells Billie she got accidentally pregnant. Billie falls to bits. At the time I thought Billie could've been a bit more supportive.

Now I get it. I hear you Billie.

I was in a big hot mess, friends. I threw myself onto my bed and howled. Yes, this was despite it being my mum's birthday, and with my auntie and uncle staying. My fella held the fort, and fortunately they didn't really notice (my auntie has a bit of the dementia).

My brother and his girlfriend, bless them, drove from the other side of town to see that I was ok, at 11pm. We had a chat. His girlfriend said "you did well. I would've been throwing shit if I were you". I repeat, bless them.

The next morning, I felt better. I called my sister to congratulate her again, and tell her what a wonderful mum she will be.

She had chosen to let mum know of the impending grandparenthood through her birthday card, with instructions to "not smother her". Mum hadn't read it. So I let her know that morning. Mum looked surprised, then pulled a face. A month or so ago, my sister had told my mum not to expect any grandchildren out of her.

We spent that day taking my mum, Auntie and Uncle around. We smiled and nodded as auntie repeated the same four or five things 60 times.

They left at 4 in the afternoon. We both let out a huge sigh, and reflected.

My sister and I love each other, but we are chalk and cheese. She does not like people getting too close. The text across the table thing is the way she rolls.

I do think she will make a great mum. Her partner has two boys, she is wonderful with them. Yet she works casually as a waitress, and he scrapes by on a couple of jobs. They live about 100 kilometres away. I think she prefers that distance. I don't really know how much she will want us, her mother and sister, around.

I worry about the situation for them, and don't like to think of my sister walking around a restaurant with a heavy tummy.

However, we grew up on far less, and with only one parent. We survived.

Today, I came to really understand that the whole rigour with which I approach the other areas in my life does not really apply in this situation. These things do not progress in an orderly queue, and that is ok. I had known this intellectually, but now really get it.

Somebody once said that the ease with which a couple get pregnant is inversely proportional to how much they are prepared for it. I get that, too.

Sometimes, in difficult times, we force ourselves to remember our blessings.

I remembered my blessings today, not in a forced way, in a natural way, with faith that things will work out as they are meant to. Balance has been restored, at least for now.

And in the spirit of gratitude, I sent my brother and his girlfriend this text