Day Thirtyeight

I accidentaly spilt water all over the keyboard and my bookmark, which is actually the tag of my glomesh clutch I bought from Luxe.

Sometimes I'm scared of the future. It doesn't take long for something huge and life-changing to happen, and I don't know what will happen to me. Just because everything has been normal for the last 21 years doesn't mean it will stay that way. I think of accidents and finding out I'm actually adopted, and then realise that the latter is utterly absurd because I have my mum's smile and my dad's ankles.

What if I can't get pregnant when I'm ready to have a baby? Would I fight about it with my husband? Would I leave him or would he leave me or would we adopt or would we be childless? I'm unreasonably worried and I contemplate semi-seriously about mentioning this to my doctor the next time I see him or her.

I don't have to think about it yet. I want to see my eyes and his mouth and my mother's hands on my very own tiny little being, but I want a child like I want a cat. Just something I can cuddle and play with and leave to its own devices at home when I have more important things to do.

I wish someone I knew had a baby I could play with. A prn-baby.

I called Jez at 1:00 am last night, crying because Clare's mother in The Traveller's Wife had died. You might have guessed that just before I made this post I was reading about Clare's 6 miscarriages.