If in doubt, avoid. That’s the approach I have been practicing of late – a full scale avoidance of babies, friends with bumps, baby showers, prams, presents, including but not limited to the avoidance of what my body is doing. I have no idea when or where the cm will turn up, when I will ovulate (lie, that was a lie – I always know when I ovulate) but the point is I am TRYING not obsess. How successful I am being in this venture is debateable:

Evidence to suggest I am succeeding: –

• I have started drinking again. Red wine. And lots of it, on the basis that life is too short.
• I have not called any of my baby-laden, foetus-friendly friends, for over a week.

Evidence to suggest I am failing:

• I am writing this post. If I was making a true success of avoidance I would not be thinking about babies and consequently not be writing about it them. This blog would cease to exist. Hello! I don’t think so!
• I was forced by DH to visit a friend’s newborn a week ago (I didn’t say the avoidance approach had been going on for long) because my absence was “conspicuous and starting to look suspicious”. I arrived with a loaf, a cake, six bagels and three jam donuts. DH said it looked like I was over compensating for being the only one of our friends who hadn’t visited since the birth. I told him the baked goods weren’t for them, they were for me – to comfort me in the aftermath of visiting them. What does he think I am – some kind of Mother Theresa?

Now that I have beaten myself so boisterously, violently and pointlessly with the success / failure stick I’m going to check out what the rest of you blogz have been up to because trying to stay away from the action is exhausting. Now, where’s my damn baby?

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