Icy and sugar free

It's an icy lemon squash kind of day here in Queensland today. And I found one that is sugar free and actually does not taste like aspartame's ass.

What is it about the term sugar free that induces instant piousness? Like the fat chick who orders a supersized Whopper meal - with extra cheese and an ice-cream sundae...and then orders loud-voicely "just a small diet coke also please". Good girl, watching your calories like that.

Thing is, give it 10 years and Lancet will be printing studies about the various dangers of all the other shit they put in these sugar-free drinks to make them taste, uh, sugary. You know the ones, they end in -alanine and -oxydotol.

But if they contain all those acids and preservatives, won't we live longer? They are essentially pickling us, after all.

Anyway, sugar-free lemon squash is my beverage of choice while blogging this afternoon. Just thought you'd like to know.

Yesterday's beverage du jour was beer, Stella in fact. Just one schooner, as I was driving, but goodness I could have had at least four more.

And that is saying something as just six days before I was doing the "I'm never drinking again" thing, hungover as shit after my partner's 40th. (Happy birthday darling.) All it took was eight Asahis and I was a bed-ridden cactus that threw up twice the next day. Trust me, that is not a cactus you want in your garden.

Flaming Mojave Desert, I was sick.

It was buggeringly hot last weekend and I swear I ate a dodgy Ho Mai concoction (although that is unfair to Ho Mai, makers of the finest fake supermarket yum cha selections in history, so I take that back - but I am lying to myself and to you: there was no dodgy food poisoning here. I am simply soft and unable to hold my liquor.) There I said it - and yes alright I will admit it outside the comfort of those brackets back there. I. Am. Soft.

But a schooner here or there is ok. The occasion yesterday was a wonderful catch-up with two gorgeous friends, former workmates - the ones who have seen the light. Haha.

I have blogged about one of them previously. We were pregnant at almost exactly the same time until I lost the baby.

She is mere weeks away from giving birth so her girth is cause of much mirth. Sorry, couldn't resist.

Well it was generally mirthful until she started reacting to the baby moving, causing our other friend to put his hand on her belly. I was sitting on the other side of the table and thought for a split-second about reaching over for a feel, but withdrew.

Why?

Well, at that moment, it was confronting. I could see her top shifting a little as the baby's limbs moved under her skin, causing the slightest slide up and then down, casting a miniscule shadow to break across the fabric of her top before disappearing.

I felt the tiniest tear well up at that point and stayed silent. I think...maybe I talked about something else, or looked at the boats on the water nearby. I can't remember, but a sudden, gripping feeling of..."I want that" just choked me.

And I am sorry to write this down, because I suspect these two amazing people will most likely read this and feel bad. Don't. Please.

So you didn't give that a second thought at the time? You didn't notice anything at all afterwards? Good. I don't want you to.

As I have explained before, that is no sort of friendship if one party feels they have to censor themselves.

Stuff has been building for me this past fortnight. And again, like the weeks after we lost the baby where I would see baby-related things literally EVERYWHERE I turned, and so it is happening again now: near to my due date.

I came to work on Monday last week to hear three people I knew had had babies over the weekend. Then a high-profile contact at work announced she was pregnant, someone else got a positive pregnancy test, heavily pregnant women seem to cross my path with unnerving regularity and just this morning as I walked through the markets my nan pointed out a random sign on a stall warning about the dangers of mobile phones when you are pregnant.

Now I absolutely rationally know that nan, like my friends, would in no way have thought a completely innocuous gesture like that would make me feel terrible. So I cannot rationally A) make them aware of that (except via this blog, um?) or B) be angry with them about it.

And I am not suggesting that I take away from my friend that amazing experience of having her baby move inside her, and wanting to share it with her friends. That's what pregnant people do.
The thing is, it's all so fleeting. Maybe on another day, I would have reached over to feel her belly and been completely fine about it. And as I have explained before, whatever "bad" stuff I might feel is not something I hang onto.

So the tears started for a nanosecond there yesterday...but they were gone in a flash. Alright part of that is self-preservation, but part of it is trying to stay healthy mentally...and of course continue to honour the fantastic relationships I have with friends and family. I know I would absolutely hate it if people I liked to have around me felt they were on egg shells whenever we met.

Maybe I am stupid for writing it down here...and I am probably selfish for doing so. Because, like last year, Blogger is better than any therapist I've ever known. So, sorry, but don't take it on board or make it alter your behaviour around me.

This is a glimpse into how I felt for a fleeting moment one Saturday afternoon. Know what? Next Saturday, I am sure it will be very different.

Hmm, I am clearly formulating my application letter for Ramblers Anonymous here, but I hope some of this makes sense.

The next few weeks will be tough. March 5 will be tougher. But it is a mere moment in time. I'll be right.