Raising Hell

“Riyaahd. Is there something you need to talk to me about?” Riyaahd turned to look at me over his shoulder. His one eye was barely open. I turned my screen so that he could see exactly what I was looking at. Riyaahd turned around fully, eyes wide.

Hiatus 2: I hate this too.

So, at 5.30am, I stopped my car outside of the corner shop. From my back seat, I could have sworn I heard laughter. The laughter sounded young; adolescent. I decided I must have heard something/someone from outside the vehicle, and as I let my passenger in, my stomach dropped, as I was overcome with a feeling of nausea and dread. “Hello Shana”, she said.

The illusion of time

To summarise, the urge to shake my daughter to death and put her in the oven isn’t one that I would like to wear on my sleeve. I constantly have the daydream where I forget her in the car. I keep seeing myself drop her from the bed.

ARTICLE: TTC Trying to (stay) calm

It’s been seven months of hoping, tracking, timing, taking my temperature, consultations with my doctors, medication that makes me feel sick and slightly loopy, weight gain despite healthier eating habits, and the possibility that I may have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS). This is not good news.