My husband makes my world turn around

That was a nice experiment - posting about my deepest fears. Let's not do that again. 80% of my comments are really great and helpful and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. The others just served to remind me how deeply words go into your soul and how hard they are to get out. Especially when you stop being brave and give over to tears and sobbing in the middle of the night. And I thank you from the heart of my bottom. So - perhaps no more of that. Now you know what's going on in my life, and one day soon I might tell you the date that's been planned for Thingamababy's arrival, but let's make a deal - no more deep stuff. Let's ease back into regular blogging with something serious but nice.


Mr de Elba has been a tower of strength for me over the last few weeks. I usually manage things myself - the house, the kids, and all my antenatal appointments. But, starting on that day when the sonographer paused, sighed and said kindly, "Well, you're not going to be happy. You have placenta previa. I'm sorry," Mr de Elba has rearranged work commitments (some of them are hard to rearrange) and helped me so much with Sonny and Smoochy, and he has come with me to all my appointments.

He has seen me cry - more desperately and longer than ever before in my life. He has seen me slack off in my parenting to the point when fighting children only raise a half-hearted suggestion from me that if one of them kills the other, things would be a lot quieter around this place.

He has listened to all my deepest and most stupid fears and worries, and disappointments at dreams lost. He has accepted my terror at slight-chance complications and their most horribly permanent outcomes.

When I had a wild idea to let go of my anger and frustration by taking up kickboxing, he gently reminded me that if lifting children and moderate housework was ill-advised, that kickboxing was probably out of the question.

When I had an alternative idea to stand on the roof of my house naked shouting, "Give Me Zoloft Or Give Me Death!" he made noises of caution but refrained from reminding me that he has actually seen me naked, and Holy Wow, the world don't need that sort of shock right now.

Tonight I lay on the bedroom floor while I watched my kids alternate between wrestling on the big bed and jumping down on the floor to "rest" with me under the fluffy blue blanket. (Remember it's the middle of winter here. We don't get snow, but we get this wind that comes out of a bottle labelled "Extract of Snow".)

And then they disappeared. I lay there quietly by myself, enjoying the peace and the space to think unthinkable thoughts. Then I realised it was a great time to have a shower! So I did. When I came out, my bedroom was still a peaceful little sanctuary. Granted, the bed was a wreck after the wrestling, and there were dolls and books on the floor that -pardon me- Mr de Elba and I did not put there, but it was quiet.

After a quick search, I found my little family here.


Bless Mr de Elba's heart. I love him.