Oh

It's not the answer I expected ... and I'm still not sure if I believe it, but it is. At least that's what Saint Anne told me anyway.

I had justified away every feeling I had been having (feeling more flatulent than anything else really) and was not at all expecting the answer.

I am. It's a place I have never been before. I didn't know how to recognise it and I still don't know how it's different. The urgent midnight bladder and the painful cramps if I don't get to it soon enough are the only things which are new. Yesterday I felt so completely normal I was quite sure they had made a mistake.

Maybe they have?
Maybe it's just a dream?
Maybe I am?

I spoke to Saint Meagan when I returned the call. 11am they called me and I could hear excitement in their voice on my message bank.
"Don't get your hopes up" I told myself. "You've been doing that every month for two years now. Protect your heart."
Right-o!

But I was wrong and they told me 126. Not a huge number, but a good number, they said, and I released the breath I had been holding for weeks.

Oh.

Really?

Oh, yes!

They must hear this every time ... what do I do now? They laughed and I am on my way. I have reached the end of the tightrope, but I'm not off the platform yet. It will be a long time before I can descend the ladder and move blinkingly out of the Big Top. All is not over and I am scared.

AdvetureBoy wanted to start telling people straight away. It took a great deal of persuasion to convince him that we're not ready for an audience yet ... hopefully soon ... but not yet. He is disappointed but comes home that afternoon with flowers and fabulous champagne.

"I can't drink that now." He is deflated, but not for long. He is too excited to be contained.

I share his thrill but I am still cautious. There's a long way to go yet.