Bloody Hell. I'm pregnant.

Well, holy crap.

Halfway through my double Bloody Mary at Manchester Airport departures yesterday (after a really good burger at Giraffe) I went and did a poo, which is always good news for those of us who can't consume gluten, don't get enough fibre and are constantly battling with constipation.  Whilst I was there, thanks to a test that my best friend had secretly bought earlier and handed me when the boys got out of the car to have a pee in a lay-by, I discovered I was pregnant.  I returned to the bar, drained my Bloody Mary and told my husband, whose eyes pricked with tears of joy as his hand reached for mine.

I, for someone who has always declared they'd never have children (except for a short period last year, though I think we can safely put that down to the fact I'd just re-entered full time work), remained remarkably calm.  I was probably preoccupied with the imminent flight home, not being a very good flier, or perhaps the vodka was working its magic, but despite the feelings of confusion and utter overwhelmedness, I managed to not totally freak out and attempt to leave the plane at 36,000 feet.  I just mainly sort of thought, well, that explains all the nausea, sore boobs and distinct lack of period; and was very pleased I'd got a good night's boozing at a wedding followed by a good fry up with some lovely runny eggs out of the way before I found out.

Today, however, was a different matter.  Though I think I might already be starting to get my head around it, despite the fact I've hardly had time to think about it (we arrived back late last night and I've been at work all day), I just can't stop bursting into tears.  I'm going to put that down to the hormones for now and just focus on the appointment that my husband (D) has got me at the Frauenarzt ("women's doctor") tomorrow.  Yes, tomorrow.  Gotta love Germany.  He has insisted on coming with me and on top of that, he's also cleaned the flat, washed the stairs, done both the washing and the washing up and cooked dinner with enough leftovers for me to bring for my lunch tomorrow.  I LOVE HIM.

I really, honestly don't know how I feel right now.  It's just a bit of a headfuck, you know, going from not really imagining this would ever, ever happen to me to, well, suddenly discovering it is (probably, if it all works, etc).  Mostly I am feeling very sick, very tired, have boobs that feel like someone's sticking shards of hot glass into them.  That and upset about not being able to eat any more boiled eggs.