Feeling Listless

On December 5th, 2005 I wrote my first ever guest post, and submitted it to Feeling Listless with a request to hang on to it until after Christmas. Quite unlike a lot of the contributors, when I sat down to write, I knew exactly what I was going to say; 2005 has been an eventful year, but one thing has overshadowed New York, China, living in the same house for more than two years, learning how to append to a pdf file, and tasting guinea fowl for the first time.

I was a little concerned that, having been asked to write about some sort of life-changing achievement, I was actually going to discuss something which, as has been pointed out tediously often, requires very little skill and no effort whatsoever. In fact, even after having achieved our goal, we have occasionally gone through the process again for no reason whatsoever other than that it’s quite fun. But we’re getting into squeaky bed territory here, so perhaps I should move along.

Having babies has never been a huge priority to me [unlike my mum, who has been planning her first grandchild for at least 15 years]. For a long time, I seriously believed that I couldn’t have them anyway, so when Pete said he wanted a family, I kind of had to shrug and say that it wasn’t likely to happen. When I was proven mistaken, it was like a switch flicking inside me; and even after that pregnancy was cut short, I couldn’t seem to flick it back. So conceiving, and maintaining the ravenous wee beastie in a live state for nearly 16 weeks now, is an achievement that I am feeling pretty damn smug about. Cautiously smug. I understand that a certain level of anxiety is now unavoidable, for the rest of my life. I really don’t mind.

My post on Feeling Listless is here, and the rest of the story so far, which I’ve been blogging for weeks but not publishing, can now be found here.