The thing about neglecting one's blog is that a day of 'I'll blog tomorrow' turns into weeks of it and before you know it you realise that it's been over a year, yip, an entire 12 months since you clicked on 'new post' and actually did something about it. And, well, before you have time to get completely overwhelmed by what to post and how to post it, you just dive on in and give it a go. This explains the past two long sentences – I have no idea where I'm going with this. So bear with me...
I guess a good place to start is to set the scene. Unlike the majority of last year's posts, this one is not being written by a woman working 60-hour weeks, living for wine o' clock and popping schedule 5 nerve blockers like smarties. This is, in fact, being written by a woman with a bionic spine and a baby bump. Yes, you read that correctly. And, yes, I will explain.
First, let's talk titanium and 'car parts'
On the 6th of November last year I was being wheeled into theater amid visions of sparkly tap-dancing unicorns courtesy of a lovely nurse and her answer to 'Please, I'm very nervous, I've never had surgery before, please dope me up thoroughly?' I was being wheeled in so that I could have an artificial disc replacement in my lower lumbar spine (level L5/S1 to be precise). Basically, just like a car part, mine was broken and it was being replaced by a magician of a 'mechanic', Dr Louis Nel Jr. After a few hours of surgery, a couple of days in ICU and 3 days in a general ward – making friends with fellow titanium-enhanced peeps – I was sent home to spend 8 weeks recovering (a.k.a to binge watch series). And, haven't needed to walk around with an ice pack in my broeks ever since.
Now, let's talk pulling the goalie...
and peeing on a stick. Apologies for the lack of finesse and ladylike prose but if there is one thing that building a person has taught me, it's that pregnancy is a messy business. Remarkably, life-alteringly "How can I love someone I haven't met yet this much already?" miraculous but oh-so-messy – I mean, there's a reason I know know how to spell hemorrhoids. Nuff said.
So, by pulling the goalie I mean relegating contraception to the bench and by, peeing on a stick, I mean just that, except it wasn't really a stick, it was a digital Clear Blue pregnancy test and it alerted hubby and I to the fact that we were 3+ weeks pregnant. The '+' is important because the blood test, taken a couple of days later, revealed that we were, in fact, almost 6 weeks along. Our due date is the 10th of January, which is pretty amusing because when we first spoke about combining our genetic material to create a 'mini-us' hubby insisted that – and I quote – "We will not have a December/Jan baby." This previous sentence highlights, quite beautifully, two things I have always believed – God's timing is perfect* and He has a sense of humour*.
*A full explanation of these statements is a blog post all on its own, so perhaps it's best to simply end, for today, with the cliff hanger device favoured by la-la land – To be continued...
I guess a good place to start is to set the scene. Unlike the majority of last year's posts, this one is not being written by a woman working 60-hour weeks, living for wine o' clock and popping schedule 5 nerve blockers like smarties. This is, in fact, being written by a woman with a bionic spine and a baby bump. Yes, you read that correctly. And, yes, I will explain.
First, let's talk titanium and 'car parts'
On the 6th of November last year I was being wheeled into theater amid visions of sparkly tap-dancing unicorns courtesy of a lovely nurse and her answer to 'Please, I'm very nervous, I've never had surgery before, please dope me up thoroughly?' I was being wheeled in so that I could have an artificial disc replacement in my lower lumbar spine (level L5/S1 to be precise). Basically, just like a car part, mine was broken and it was being replaced by a magician of a 'mechanic', Dr Louis Nel Jr. After a few hours of surgery, a couple of days in ICU and 3 days in a general ward – making friends with fellow titanium-enhanced peeps – I was sent home to spend 8 weeks recovering (a.k.a to binge watch series). And, haven't needed to walk around with an ice pack in my broeks ever since.
Now, let's talk pulling the goalie...
and peeing on a stick. Apologies for the lack of finesse and ladylike prose but if there is one thing that building a person has taught me, it's that pregnancy is a messy business. Remarkably, life-alteringly "How can I love someone I haven't met yet this much already?" miraculous but oh-so-messy – I mean, there's a reason I know know how to spell hemorrhoids. Nuff said.
So, by pulling the goalie I mean relegating contraception to the bench and by, peeing on a stick, I mean just that, except it wasn't really a stick, it was a digital Clear Blue pregnancy test and it alerted hubby and I to the fact that we were 3+ weeks pregnant. The '+' is important because the blood test, taken a couple of days later, revealed that we were, in fact, almost 6 weeks along. Our due date is the 10th of January, which is pretty amusing because when we first spoke about combining our genetic material to create a 'mini-us' hubby insisted that – and I quote – "We will not have a December/Jan baby." This previous sentence highlights, quite beautifully, two things I have always believed – God's timing is perfect* and He has a sense of humour*.
*A full explanation of these statements is a blog post all on its own, so perhaps it's best to simply end, for today, with the cliff hanger device favoured by la-la land – To be continued...
Comments
You are having a goat baby!!! Goats are the best people. Ugh. They're going to love you so thoroughly, be super-funny/smart and be the shaddiest, independent spirit with like, decisiveness/stubbornness.
Congrats, again.