RAGE. (Part One)

I say part one because I sense there may be many more moments of pregnancy rage to come. 

This week, the honour goes to – 


“Do you know what it is yet?”. 

I’m hoping it’s a baby or I’ll be a bit fucking miffed. 

I’ve told everyone, ABSOLUTELY EVERYONE, that I’m finding out (hopefully) this week. Thursday, 12th December. So no, I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet. 

No, I won’t be disappointed if it’s a boy/if it’s a girl. 

I don’t have any inclination one way or the other. Let’s face it, I’ve got a 50% chance of being right. Well, actually, I’ve said it’s a baby, so I’ve got a 99.99999% chance of being right (always got to account for that teeny margin of error, after all). It might be a girl. It might also be a boy. Yes, you can have a guess – I love hearing what people think, and there’s a few people where I’ve actually asked if they have any idea – but trust me, if I knew what it was, it’d be on Facebook, and I’d be shouting it from the rooftops. If I don’t have you on Facebook, or you don’t think I know you well enough to have told you in person, you probably don’t know me well enough to be all that interested. 



The difficult thing right now is convincing people that underneath the prego rage, I’m a genuinely nice person. Sometimes. 

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