Pil are visiting. They don't go home til Wednesday...
After a history of mmcs, a couple of years of infertility then clomid, only Dh and I know that I am now 7wks pg (or about the fertility drugs). I don't want to tell anyone until at least 12wks, as in my heart of hearts I don't believe I will get that far, and selfishly don't want to deal with other people's feelings about it as well as my own, complicated, feelings. I might've confided in my mum this week, but she has been unwell herself for a few months and I can't burden/worry her.
However, I'm absolutely knackered. I've never been sick in pg, but I sometimes wonder if that would be easier than the constant feeling of being really unwell and the bone melting exhaustion of being on my feet more than a few minutes at a time. I've never been this bad before, I don't know what to do with myself.
I couldn't hide it anymore yesterday and had to lay down, claiming a headache and unspecified 'virus' symptoms and must've looked rough because they took control of the day and entertained my 7yr old beautifully. I've used the same excuse today. But I can't keep it up til they leave!
I'm going to have to 'get better' and tough it out, but jeesus I've never wished to fast forward time so much in my life. If anyone has a time machine, jump to Wednesday afternoon please I beg you
.
Anyway, I just fancied a moan and I feel a bit better for doing so. 