It's fair to say that I've felt the pressure this week. I think the realisation of what we're facing has finally caught up with me this week and I've just had a meltdown (I'm also really hoping that there's a premenstrual element to it, too - more that 90 days since AF's last visit. )
Anyway, on Tuesday I had a good old weep at Mr B, worried that I wasn't going to be able to lose the weight I need to lose.
On Wednesday, the same thing happened.
"You need to stop putting so much pressure on yourself," Mr B said.
It's easier said than done though, isn't it, really?
It's ME that doesn't work properly.
It's ME that has to lose the weight.
It's ME the doctors are judging.
It's MY fault we don't have a baby yet.
It's ME that's chasing the referrals, appointments, letters and what not.
Add to that the hell that is currently my work, and it's all just got a bit much this week.
I spoke to my mum yesterday and she suggested that I give something like pilates a go. Something to relax me, take my mind off things.
Because, as she pointed out, we're only at the beginning of it all.