Thursday, 25 March 2010
As I prepared to pee on that infamous stick I couldn't help but think back to the last time I’d been in this situation and found out I was pregnant and I’m not talking about Evie here.

If you’ve been reading for a while, you will know that Evie’s Dad, Daniel and I lived together briefly when Evie was about 2. Ten months down the line and on the pill, I missed a period. I’d been away on a training course for work for a couple of nights the previous month and had been unable to pick up my repeat prescription so missed out on the first 3 pills of the packet. I remember saying to him one night in bed when he was being amorous that it was a “dangerous time” but he said it didn’t matter, it was ok, we’d got through worse. Of course what he really meant was I’m not worried about that just now, I just want to have sex with you.

During that period free week I kept saying to him, “I think I might be pregnant”. He repeated his previous line, that we’d got through worse. I should have reminded him that actually I'd got through worse, I don't particularly remember him being around helping me through things. “What if I am pregnant though?” He repeated the same line. He was playing the ostrich card.

On the date that I should have restarted my pill I bought a double pregnancy pack and used the first one in the toilets at work on my lunch break. If I was pregnant I wanted to be prepared within myself to deal with his reaction. It didn’t take long for the two parallel lines to appear and my heart sank, probably because I knew deep down what his reaction would be.

That evening I told Daniel that I'd bought a pregnancy test and went upstairs to use the second one. When I came back downstairs, I sat on the couch and showed him the test, already knowing myself that it would be positive. I thought to myself that he couldn't possibly react as badly as he did when I told him I was pregnant with Evie. We were living together now and 2 years had passed. He would be ok, wouldn't he? "There's no way we can have this baby" he said to me.

Within a week I was suffering from the effects of morning sickness and after two days off work had to admit to my line manager that I was pregnant. I tried to talk to Daniel. I told him that if I had to go through a termination it would be the end of us too. I couldn't believe he was doing this to me, all over again. I could almost understand why he was like this with Evie, we'd only been together a month but now we had a home, we were a family. I spent the next week or so thinking about what I was going to do while struggling with the constant nausea. This was my problem now, he'd made that clear to me. It was possibly the hardest decision that I ever had to make and within 3 weeks of finding out I was pregnant again, I had a termination. It was an extremely traumatic experience, with the procedure not going to plan and finding myself being wheeled through to theatre for the surgical procedure. Of course I believed that I was being punished when the medical method didn't work because I had wanted the baby. But I knew that if I was going to leave Daniel and make a new life for Evie and I in the future I was going to have to make this sacrifice. Five months later I told Daniel I wanted a separation.

I've been left wondering ever since whether I'll be able to have another baby. When I told Mr Rockstar that I was going to take the test he reassured me that he would be there for me. Although I believed him there was a tiny part of me that was still doubtful because of what had happened in the past. "You won't leave me will you?" Suddenly, after trying to act cool for so long, I was showing him my vulnerable side. He promised me he wouldn't.

As we both sat there and watched the test change it suddenly dawned on me that this was the first time someone, a boyfriend, had been with me while I waited to find out whether I was pregnant or not.

One single line, I wasn't pregnant. We both looked at it, wondering if it needed more time, nope, definitely negative. It was a strange feeling. After working ourselves up over the possibility of a little life developing inside me we almost felt slight disappointment for the baby that never was.

Thursday, 18 March 2010
Somebody once said to me “you’re always out there with everyone else, you’re never in here, with yourself” while holding her hand to her chest. I thought about what she said for a long time. She was right. I had a habit of spending too much time worrying about what other people were thinking instead of focusing on how I felt deep down and being comfortable with that. I admired her because she had listened to her inner voice and was confident within herself to disregard anyone’s criticism of how she had chosen to live her life. It would seem that some people feel threatened by what they may perceive as risk taking by another person. Some of us of course are just trying to embrace life.

As a child I was very confident, I was probably quite annoying too, forcing the family to gather in the living room to watch me in my latest dressing up ensemble while performing contemporary dance or dramatisation (I neither did dance nor drama class). I wanted to perform, I loved being on the stage. I was popular in Primary School and was recently told by an old school friend that most of the boys fancied me, they would have had strong competition with Matt Goss had I been aware of this at the time.

Secondary school changed all of that. Going through my parents’ divorce and the repercussions from that changed me into a child who struggled to fit in. Performing an a cappella version of Eternal Flame for an Opportunity Knocks event for Children in Need in front of the whole school and missing the final note at the end did nothing to improve my already declining popularity status in first year. The auditorium went silent and then everyone burst out laughing. I remember standing there on stage relieved that I had sunglasses on (fancy dress) because they couldn’t see my eyes. A boy who had asked me out previously, stood up and shouted “stop it” or words to that effect, quite sweet really looking back but it only added to the embarrassment and shame building up inside of me. As I walked off stage my so called best friend turned to me as I sat down beside her, “well, you really fucked that up, didn’t you?”

I endured various teasing with people passing me in the school corridors laughing but just tried to ignore it.
I’m not sure how it happened but I ended up getting involved with a crowd who smoked and would spend my lunch money on a packet of 10 Regal king size and a box of matches (a pound went far in those days!). I was suddenly mixing with people who didn’t judge me and hanging around the 4th year toilets. Smoking made me sick though, I hated it but at the same time it gave me a sense of belonging. Looking back I was just lost and trying to find my way.

Thankfully, I left that school when the family home was sold, spending a 6 month stint with my Grandmother on the Isle of Skye and then finally moving to the Highlands of Scotland. I’d really thrived when I was living in Skye. I excelled in my school work and seemed to gain back the confidence I’d lost at my previous school. It didn’t last long though following the move. Having come from a school where I had to wear full school uniform and was high up in the discipline stakes I suddenly found myself in a science lab where boys were trying to “buzz” off the gas taps. I was told about which teachers had suffered nervous breakdowns, how to get at them during class and before long found myself being pulled along for the ride. Within a year though, the tables had turned and I suddenly found myself the victim of bullying. Being a bit experimental in the fashion stakes didn’t go down too well wither with the Nike Air trainer wearing kids. There was no way I could afford Joe Bloggs gear (remember, this was the early 90s) let alone Nike and because I wasn’t wearing the right names, I got called names. I was miserable so my mother removed me from the school and put me to another secondary in the town. I struggled briefly to find my place, I was torn between the academic attitude of the “swots” and the laughter and fun of the “in” crowd. I later found myself getting heavily involved in the music scene, aspiring to be like Courtney Love (without the drug addiction) and felt a connection with the whole Grunge scene. Suddenly it was cool to be a tortured, misplaced sole.

As the years went on I found myself going through the whole process again at various stages and more latterly when I became a parent. When I had Evie I tried to dress up in a more "grown up" fashion and I removed all my ear piercings leaving just the traditional pair. I was being someone who wasn't me but who I thought people expected me to be.

I made a vow to myself on that horrible Hogmanay night last year that I would not continue "being out there with everyone else". People were just going to have to accept that yes, I am a dreamer, that sometimes I do rush into things, take risks, constantly change my fashion style and that I'm a hopeless romantic. I used to think that being a hopeless romantic was perhaps a bad thing because I was constantly searching for something that I began to suspect wasn't there. That was until my brother said to me one day that he admired me for it. I couldn't quite understand why. He had witnessed me on many occasions feeling let down or hurt by some guy who hadn't been what I'd quite expected. However, he continued to tell me that I always believed there was something or someone better for me out there and that I never lost hope. The funny thing is, as soon as I allowed myself to be just that, myself; Mr Rockstar came back into my life. It was as if the universe realised I'd done my time, served my self discovery prison sentence and was ready for the inner me to be released on the outside world.

Suddenly though, as I get ready to take this home pregnancy test that I bought at the weekend, I wonder if I may soon be taking on a whole new route of self discovery.

To be continued.....

Wednesday, 10 March 2010
It was at the dinner table when I decided to confess to Evie that Mr Rockstar wasn't just "Mum's friend". It felt like confession, I felt like I was admitting to some terrible secret I'd been harbouring for years. The difference of course was that I wasn't shielded by a small booth and there wasn't necessarily going to be forgiveness from a higher being.

As she sat there chomping away one of her 4 fish fingers while trying to tell me all about the latest class romance I decided to seize the moment...

" we were all wondering if Harry was going to dance with Milly at the school disco as he's now Milly's boyfriend."
"Oh Milly's got a boyfriend, has she? How would you feel if Mummy had a boyfriend."
"Have you got a boyfriend Mum, have you? Who is it??" This was good, there was an air of anticipated excitement in her response.
"Well you sort of know him".
"Do I? Is it M??"
"Yes, it is". I said with a big, if not slightly nervous grin on my face.

Cue floods of tears. I wondered whether I ought to start building an ark. They didn't stop. Hmm, this wasn't going well. I couldn't understand it. She had been getting on fantastically well with Mr Rockstar. In fact I was quite surprised at how quickly she took to him. What were the tears all about? This was difficult, this was harder than I had expected it was going to be.

"But I was happy with you just being friends. I just want you to be friends. I'm not comfortable with you having a boyfriend". Oh balls.
Putting her knife and fork down she sulked off to her bedroom and slammed her door.

I knew I shouldn't have given her 4 fish fingers or more sensibly, I should have waited until she'd finished her dinner before I dropped the "Mummy's got a new boyfriend" bombshell.
As I stood outside her bedroom door, trying to reason with her and grasp some understanding of her reaction I couldn't help but think how bloody frustrating it is trying to have a natural and gradual relationship with someone new when you have a child.

I wondered whether I should have just said nothing but I was beginning to think that Evie suspected something was going on so thought it was better to tell her. She's a bright child and I've always tried to have a fairly open relationship with her, within reason. I was wrong though, she had no idea, other than the fact that I appeared to be "acting a bit funny" in her words. That'll be love then, I struggle with it, it makes me go a little crazy.

When the crying finally stopped and Evie let me into her room, I gave her a big hug and tried to reassure her that nothing would change, she still didn't seem happy and it made me very anxious about how she might be when Mr Rockstar came round on Friday night.

I also tried to reassure myself after Evie went to bed by phoning not just my mother but also my brother. Was I being a bad mum, was I putting my own feelings ahead of Evie's?? The truth of the matter was that she felt threatened. The word boyfriend to her meant kissing, cuddling, love, how could I possibly have enough love to go around?

I'd toyed with the idea in the past of remaining single i.e. never settling down with someone until Evie left home. I'd be in my early 40s by then and going by my genes, hopefully not too saggy around the gills. But Mr Rockstar had blasted into my life, I hadn't been expecting this and if I'm honest didn't want to have a boyfriend this year. It was all just supposed to be about Evie and I but as they say, love hits you when you least expect it.

When Mr Rockstar came round on Friday night although I was looking forward to seeing him I was equally worried about Evie. I'd pre-warned him that there may be some animosity, at the most I expected Evie to be quiet and unresponsive towards him. But children have a habit of being unpredictable, often in a way I envy. Within minutes of Mr Rockstar arriving you could be forgiven for thinking the sun shone out of his arse because Evie was hanging off him, getting him to lift her up and generally being very adorable. She did at one point explain to Mr Rockstar that she had cried about the thought of us being boyfriend and girlfriend. He apologised to her saying that he was sorry that she'd got upset and he spoke to her on her level. He impressed me with his maturity, that is until we got to the deli and I was left buying the wine while he played hopscotch with Evie, well, at least he was still on her level.
Wednesday, 3 March 2010

A big thank you to the lovely Kate over at Perfect 10 for my first blog prize.

I originally started this blog to help me accept my single mum status in life and it's nice to know that other people appreciate my writing and nonsense that goes along with it.

The rules I believe, of accepting such an award is to say thanks to the person who gave the award (the lovely Kate), link back to them and then pass it on to another 15 bloggers who the award winner believes are also great, unfortunately due to my limited free time I only have 6 blogs that I really follow so hopefully that's ok. So here goes......

Lottie's Lot
Tales from the Tower
Kitty Tells It as it Is
The Girl Can't Help It
Secret Office Confessions
Single Parent Dad


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Bird on a Wire
Imagine Carrie from Sex and the City morphed with Bridget Jones and a baby thrown in for added entertainment – that’s me, the ever optimistic romantic looking for my Mr Big but already with child! Read my blog from the beginning where I find out I am pregnant following a brief fling with my much older male colleague and fast forward to where I am now, stressed out working mum to my beautiful 10 year old daughter wondering if love really does in fact exist at first sight.
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