Back in the Game

Mr TCs stubble on his chin is so sparse, it's pathetic. And he knows it. "Fucks sake hon, I look like a hundred year old Chinaman."

Me - "Well, yes, it is - but I'm sure it will grow back properly. I still love you. I still love you through ALL of this shit. Even when you look at me like you hate my guts .... it's just the chemo talking. Even when you're acting like such a fucking angry prick ..... I still love you."

Mr TC, after thinking for a minute ..... "Hey, I thought we were talking about my chin hair!"

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Heh. We haven't had sexual relations in A VERY VERY LONG TIME. I may have to start humping something .... the couch, a lampost. I'm like one of those renewed virgins. Lucky I'm loyal. I don't cheat. Never ever.

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Controversially, I have decided to re-join the bloggy world in full, and take my blog off private. I have spent a lot of my life hiding .... why should I start hiding again now? My blog stats lifted substantially in May .... as they would when a TTC blog suddenly becomes a cancer blog, five days out from the birth of the baby. (SURPRIIIIISSSSEE) In television land, I believe it's what's known as a "ratings bonanza". I have spent some time going over some old posts, and deleting some personal stuff I had written about about Mr TC. Personal stuff about me? Kept it all in. Fuck it. It's like that scene in 8 Mile and Eminem stands there rapping, and uses all of the bad stuff about himself in his rap, and dares his detractors to mock him.

No-one can mock me if I accept myself, warts and all. I love my blog .... I welcome anyone to read it, except maybe the person who landed here from googling "finger lickin' sisters pics".

It was strange, reading my journey. I couldn't read past February this year ... because I knew what was coming, and my heart started to thump and I felt sick.

Seriously ..... how could it have happened this way? I wondered what month his tumours started to grow. How utterly terrifying it was, to be in hospital thinking that my husband was going to die. I thought they would open him up, the cancer would be riddled throughout his whole body, and he would be given a few weeks to live. I pray that Mr TC gets some amazing years, from now on. Cancer-free, and enjoying his life. He says he wants to go to Greece. We might move towns. Who knows.

I am much stronger than I ever gave myself credit for. That feels good. I have a baby I dreamt and willed into existence. I haven't really spent that much time enjoying him, which kind of sux. It's all so dreadfully different to what I expected to happen.

I emailed my auntie in Scotland ... I met her once, when I was 19 months old. She is my real dads sister ... the real dad who I never knew, but look exactly like. Monkey has my red hair more and more .... he seems to look like my real dad! I hadn't contacted her in a few years - she didn't even know I was pregnant, so I laid it on her - bang, here's your new nephew, oh and my husband is "a little bit crook." She replied back straight away, so lovely. She told me that my dad always hated his hair being called red, and used to call it auburn.

I didn't know that. It made my heart sore, to be 36 years old and so excited at finding out a new piece of info about my father - a morsel, a scrap from the puzzle of him.

Today I emailed her back, with these pics that I labelled "The Wee Bonny Lad" ....

Today, I told her, I know that my dad was disappointed I wasn't a boy .... but check out his new grandson. I told her I wished things were different.

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Right now, Mr TC is on the couch, making Tiger laugh hysterically. It's making me so sad! Why are all the happy things making me sad? Maybe because I didn't think we would get to be here. I will try not to take life for granted from now on, but I know I will. It's human nature.