Early days

The title of this blog is a little presumptuous.

And also a bit inaccurate.

I am now, today, six weeks in to my pregnancy (although the doctor, with his nervous stutter - I think he would have preferred a verruca to deal with - and Wheel of Birth, managed to predict that I was not only 6 weeks pregnant 4 weeks ago, an impossibility, trust me, but also that I was due in October, therefore assuming that I hadn't yet conceived).

Today I see the Midwife. I am not sure what will change.

My persona, abandoned 11 months ago, rises up again, albeit a little confused. Mainly because that is who I am - I tried to come up with another persona, to suit the situation, so no virtual paper trail scattered links from one to the other across the web, so no connections were made between old and new. But there is safety in eleven months, and that safety is forgetting, is losing the ritual of blog checking. The knowledge my former readers (mostly kind friends, bored at work) are now all settled in different daily reads, gives me some comfort in anonymity.

The familiar blogger window (with a few more posh hovery boxes), the familiar comfort. I have been longing for it for such a long time.

I always imagined I'd blog my pregnancy. I have written daily entries in my virtual post-it notes scattered over the bedroom air as I try to sleep. I have even gone to write in this very window several times over the last few weeks but something stopped me. Fear of being found out, fear of being a fraud, fear of some lunch break detective stumbling over profile connections.

And the sickness made me too ill to write. Too ill to find myself. Too ill to express my loneliness, my sadness, my tears, my worry, my fear.

But today, what changed?

Perhaps because over the past few days I have joined a lovely online group who I am able to spit rants at and ask questions to ladies all due in the same month as me.

Perhaps because I am hitting despair with my work struggles and worry.

Mainly because I just need to write.