Tuesday 28th July

5:51 pm

I’m shattered today. Spent half the night in a fitful sleep, my fidgeting eventually waking The Boyfriend at 4:30 am. He wasn’t cross at first. A recurring nightmare involving killer shrimp has made him incredibly tolerant of bad dreams. He reached in for a comforting hug.

I dreamt that I spent my very first Christmas away from home with his family. We had gotten married the previous year and it was my turn to go to his. I felt miserable because I missed my mum and her Christmas pudding and wanted to know if there was any way we could reach a compromise whereby we spend every Christmas with my family.

A disgusted snort as the consoling arm roughly returned to other side of the bed, firmly ended the discussion.

Yes, it is cruelly unfair to disturb one’s sleep over a dream about marital obligations but such concerns weigh heavily on my mind. I am a dreadful worrier. I never cease worrying, even when I’m in a carefree mood (then I worry about the inevitable end of my high).

Take last Saturday. It was a glorious summer’s day and The Boyfriend and I were en route to our local deli for our usual croissants and coffee.

I thought I had, the previous evening, exhausted my list of things to worry about that weekend:
“How do I get out of leaving drinks with work next week? Should I tell them I’m flying home that evening? But what if one of my colleagues should also happen to be catching a flight from Gatwick at the same time and offers me a lift? I’ll have to go to the airport and pretend to check in and I want to go see Harry Potter on Friday night.”

Climate change was also on the agenda but given The Boyfriend’s newfound love for Mother Earth, I had someone to share that particular burden.

On Saturday though, something else cropped up which filled me with dread- Birth. The pain, the aesthetic implications for my vagina, the wellbeing of the child in question. What if I’m forced to have a C section? Will this irrevocably disrupt the bond between mother and child? Will I ever be able to wear a bikini again?

For the record, I am not pregnant, nor planning on becoming pregnant any time soon, nor even engaged to be married. But should I accidentally become pregnant, birth will be a very real concern, a constant worry for nine whole months.

At times like these, I call upon my rudimentary knowledge of Yogic breathing. I am calm. I am zen-like. Life is good. Birth is life. I embrace birth. OOMMMMMMMM.