Worry. A life time of it. Begins.
This morning I went to the loo, and did my business, which may or may not have included some straining. Then I noticed a pink tinge. A scary little pink tinge. From the front bottom.
I Google. Google is the bane of mine (and many doctors) existence. It tells me everything and nothing. I defer to the mini Google – mum. Mum says don’t worry, she bled through two of her pregnancies, and it wasn’t just pink tinge, it was blood.
So, no need to call the doctor just yet. If it continues or gets worse then yes.
But this is really how it begins. I am going to worry about this little bean for the rest of my life. And really, this current worry is nothing. There will be the ‘is it still breathing?’, ‘why won’t they eat?’, ‘do they have friends to play with?', ‘are they hanging with the wrong kinds of friends?’, ‘are they doing drugs?’, ‘will they pass high school?’, ‘will they get a job?’, ‘why are they going out with that drop kick?’, ‘are they happy?’……..
This is a mugs game.