So.

I have been trying to decide whether to tell you all the things or none of them.

(I know this does not shed much light for you, but it is possible that I need to warm up to this.)

(Quite a lot.)

Things have been not only horrid but also hard and rubbish with a sprinkling of completely shit.

Dear readers, I was pregnant.

I am not any longer.

Through no decision or choice or action of my own.

Just nature.

Y'know.

It has been a strange few months.

Finding out I was we were having a mini-us was a bit of a surprise. You could say. And we panicked a bit and did not know what to do and thought of how poor we are and all the Things that are like big pointy barriers.

Then we thought, fuck it.

And also, hooray.

Then I was sick. A lot. Really loads. I cannot really explain how much I was sick. I am pretty sure, however, that you will get over the lack of explanation and possibly even be grateful for it.

We went home for Christmas. We told people. They were pleased.

Then we went for a scan.

"I'm afraid I can't see a heart beat," she said.

And that was that.

But with weeping.

So I have been in hospital having operations and fainting on commodes and listening to nurses telling me that I should sniff things that really noone should ever have to sniff.

And now I am back home.

Feeling a bit empty.

Being overly affectionate towards the weird cat.

And wondering.

Y'know.

At life.

But with weeping.