So I feel driven to write… something… but I have nothing to say. It’s all versions of “Hey. I’m a wee bit freaked out” with “OMG 6 and a half hour surgery??!!” and ” I wonder if my pants will fit better?” thrown in for good measure.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I will say that the selfish part of me has noted, with painful accuracy, the complete lack of internet love when it comes to my current blog search phrases. I used to get, no shit, at least four e-mails a week from potential intended parents looking for a GS. All this need and want that only the glowing glittering jewel that is my uterus can provide! I can make your world glitter! *See my value and worth displayed for the cosmos to fawn upon in the form of my giant baby growing body!

Alas. The rot has been sussed out. No more e-mails. Because the jewel? Turned back into a pumpkin.

Am I mixing metaphors? Yes. Yes I am. But it makes my point; that being that I am A: Crazy and B: Sad and C: Obsessive.

And with that, I retreat back in to my hole.



*I know, I know I know. But when you spend the better part of the last 8 years completely obsessed with what is happening to your uterus, you’re bound to start to put some of your own value on it’s current state. Healthy? No. But I am realistic in acknowledging that this is going to affect me in big ways.