Healing nicely

Rowan is thirteen weeks old on Friday. That's thirteen weeks since I had the C-section. Not sure why it's called a C-section to be honest, in fact I will add that to my list of 'things I always thought I knew but didn't' for solving at a later date. Still, healing nicely I hope. I haven't had anyone probe around down there, my six week check, at nine weeks, involved me telling the doctor my life story, Jam was there, and I even mentioned that sex seemed a bit clicky, to which the doctor said, I beg your pardon, what did you say? I definitely said clicky, afterwards Jam said he thought I'd said kinky, lord knows what the doctor thought I had said and what on earth possessed me to say it in the first place? Clicky sex? I was feeling quite strange. Still do. What is it about the doctor's surgery that makes you want to wax lyrical when you know you only have a five minute slot and should just get on with it.

What am I writing?! This is like a brain splurge. End of another long day, not sure what I'm doing anymore. Feel a bit lost, totally in love with my little boy (and my big boy of course, who's out in the shed tinkering...) emptied a few more boxes that had been lurking around in the living room today. We've been mainly staying in the dining room, but Jam managed to get the fire cleared out so the back boiler will work and now when the living room fire is on the radiators heat up around the house. That's neat, the washing dries quicker when it's a wet day and we all feel warmer.

And the baby boy awakes...