Radio Silence - a thank you and an apology

It's been a strange few days at Wiltshire Towers, slightly stranger than usual, which to be honest is saying something.

There's been something that I've needed to deal with and, as always, you can tell the seriousness of the matter by the fact that I have been eerily silent. Nothing says trouble in Karen-ville like my maintaining radio silence.

So, I found myself perched on the toilet seat a few times these last few days, feeling very nervous. Balanced on the sink was the answer to a question that I didn't want to know, and I was at my most inconveniently terrified.

Something has been "not right" with my body as of late. My teeth are extremely sore and painful. My weight is out of control, despite my dieting and exercising. I want bacon with everything, despite not having eaten it for years. I am feeling quite sick and full of reflux. My stomach, already stretched to capacity, feels like it is under attack. From the inside.

I've been exhausted, more intolerant of morons than usual, and my skin has that divine grey hue.

My period is now 5 days late. It has only ever been up to 2 days late before, and this has happened only 3 times - or Ella, Connor and Lily as they are also known.

I cannot - cannot - have another child. It is selfish and it is wrong, but having these two has tested me severely. My body is a wreck (not that it was in tremendous shape before). It is now a flabby, varicose veined stretch mark riddled flabby husk that pays testament to The Midgets' presence.

My mental health has suffered terribly from post natal depression that I stupidly left so long it became clinical depression.

I would like to say that my feelings have nothing to do with their disability, but I can't say that for certain. I know that, at this point, I couldn't cope with another child. It is not the time for me, and I don't think it ever will be again.

I have finally, 35 years in the making, started to be myself, relaxing into uncomfortable social situations without drinking and being an arse, merely being me with my untold faults, but sober. I am starting to allow myself to dream for me alone, to retrain and do what I want, to be a proper grown up.

The line, or the lines, on those tests were about to change my life, regardless of the result, regardless of whether I proceeded or not, because it had made me realise that I may not be who I hoped I was.

The perceived selfishness of not proceeding when I know others who would give anything to have the dilemma of proceeding with a pregnancy or not.

It's been a bit overwhelming - the fear of being pregnant, the knowledge I couldn't go ahead with it if I was, whether or not I could forgive myself for what needed to be done.

At this point, I'm still waiting for the period to arrive. Four tests say no, so it's off to the doctor with me to see what is up with my ridiculous body.

What has been most overwhelming is the kindness that you have all shown me. We've found each other and become family in one way or another - my FB mummies - Mrs Sinclair, the bonkers Ms Hughes, the Vomiting Hurricane Hannon, the Wanda-ful Argo. My adorable Mystery Machinettes, @aGentlemanLoser, the wonderful Simon Wells who runs the @open_minds theatre group project; The Miraculous Ms Eraculous, my special daughter Phips, Pemble and Ms Jackson - sincerely, thank you.

Sorry, I am crap at looking after myself. I don't really give a shit about myself, but thank you all for caring. Genuinely.

In the meantime - off to the doctors next week, to see about getting my tubes tied.

Thank you. And sorry.