last year. september. D decided that we needed a new car. because ours kept breaking down, and he thought it wasn't safe enough any more. not once there was a baby to put in it.
i personally thought that we didn't have to do that straight away. i thought there was plenty of time. but he insisted. we borrowed money from my parents and went ahead.
our flat. we'd been looking to move for close to a year. but once i found out i was pregnant i thought again. when our fixed rate mortgage expired we moved onto a tracker mortgage. base rate plus 2%, on a relatively small mortgage. it doesn't add up to a terribly high monthly repayment. i was scared of how little my maternity pay would be; i couldn't justify ending up with a much higher mortgage when our income was going to drop so much. D wasn't terribly happy about staying put, but... well. we thought it was only until i went back to work afterwards.
but it meant that we needed to think about the flat. we needed to get ready for our new arrival. we'd already worked on the bathroom and our bedroom; it was time to sort out the spare bedroom.
but first, D wanted to sort out the lounge. replaster, paint, get a new carpet. i didn't know why he wanted to do that first, but it seemed important to him. and there was going to be plenty of time. it didn't really matter what order we did it in.
the plastering started on friday 20th november. five days before everything was going to fall apart. we moved all the furniture we could from the lounge into the spare room. all our bookshelves (and DVD shelves and CD shelves; MAN we have a lot of stuff). the chest of drawers.
nearly a full year later, it's all still in there. the lounge is replastered and the walls painted. the skirting boards and internal doors are replaced through the whole flat.
the furniture, though, all remains where it was put. actually, i tell a lie; D has moved the bookshelves around when we've needed to get behind them - it's a major faff every time.
but all the things we put in there to get them out of the way while we were decorating are still crammed into that small room. which means that we can only access half our books at any given moment. that our paperwork is piled high on the chest of drawers; technically accessible but without any indication what's where, so pretty much useless.
nearly a year on. it's taken me this long to realise that the reason we haven't dealt with the room yet is that we're still in no man's land. we don't have a baby; we're not pregnant. we've been trying again for over nine months and nothing; but we don't have a diagnosis that anything is actually wrong.
we can't make it into a nursery; what if it never happens for us?
but then what's the point in making in into something else?
the whole place is a tip. i have piles of stuff everywhere in varying degrees of urgency. and now my credit card payment is either going to bounce or is going to take me over my overdraft limit because the account my savings are in are unhelpful bas.tar.ds and i can't access it and because we've been overspending like drunken idiots over the last few months because don't we deserve some kind of a break instead of all this shit? and i can't say no to D when he asks if we can get things, because we were supposed to have a baby by now and it's not fair that we don't, and he says 'you should get this!' too and hell I SHOULD HAVE A BABY BY NOW AND I DON'T and buying this doesn't actually heal that hurt but i keep thinking it might, so we keep going into HMV or waterstones and buying DVDs and CDs and books like there is no fucking tomorrow and we've got to stop, we have no money, but i can't.
and apparently having a dead baby doesn't mean that your shit luck is balanced out by suddenly winning the lottery, because... just because, because life is shit i guess, and so all the crap we've bought the last year or so is a) taking up space and b) building up, and i've always managed to scrape something together, but a holiday in Barcelona, two wedding hotel stays, a car service, and something else i've forgotten about have conspired to all fall in the same few months and now i think we are like £500 short of my payment and like i say my savings are in a bank of unhelpful bastards that won't just do a fucking transfer to our current account until i send in a cheque and a direct debit form and THEN i can request them to move the money - EVEN THOUGH I WANT TO CLOSE THE FUCKING ACCOUNT ANYWAY - so. we're screwed.
i can get round it. probably. my phone cut out half way through my argument with the supervisor at a certain indian bank that kind of sounds like a chemical company (is that enough information for you to figure out who i am not recommending????) so i'll have to phone back sometime to set it all up, even though it makes me want to hit people to have to do so, and pretend i didn't argue with the last guy for like half an hour. but i have an empty credit card that have offered me 0% balance transfers, so i can probably use that.
but i just want to not have to deal with any of this. i just want to burn all the papers that are lying around. or have someone give us a nice shiny new house and we can leave all the shite lying round for someone else to deal with. i don't care.
why am i not pregnant? i'm guessing this meltdown is meaning that my period is on its way. it's not due for another four days but that doesn't seem to be the point.
i just want a baby.
apparently D - who thinks genetics has nothing to do with whether you are a parent or not and would be completely fine with adoption - isn't even ready to think about when we might start thinking about adoption yet.
i can't just keep on keeping on. i have no hope left. i know lovely people keep telling me that it's not just insane to keep on trying when the outcome keeps on being the same, that it's a sign of hope. but i can't keep having my hopes shat on like this.
i told D yesterday that i'm more mentally stable than he sometimes thinks. i guess this post proves him right.
i kind of think i should wait before posting this but i don't want to.
i miss you so much, baby.