I’m on maternity leave and Dan has lost his job. It’s our 8th wedding anniversary and he’s spending it out looking for work. Our cars are about ready to die and we’re in need of diy sos but we’re staying positive. We’re staying positive for our two beautiful daughters as they will have no clue how worried we are and how sick we feel. Fuckity fuck fuck.
We’ll be attempting to run a house on smp if something doesn’t come through for him and unfortunately we don’t have any magic beans so I’m considering going back to work 4 months earlier than planned which is beyond shit. Although my colleagues have no idea if I’m dead alive as we haven’t kept in touch. Which is nice.
Do they even want me back? Do I look at something new? The prospect of leaving my (until two days ago) exclusively breast fed baby makes me want to lay on the floor and sob but we are a team and I can’t let him take all the pressure alone. He doesn’t want me to (go to work yet) but I know it’ll help him to share the burden. Self doubt is a bitch.
It’s funny. He came home yesterday and told me and now we feel like we’re flying by the seat of our pants but we’re happy. Sodding terrified, but happy.
We have each other, we have our girls, a roof over our heads and food to eat. I wish we had some rum.
I feel like something new and exciting is around the corner. Our glass is half full. I’m fucking praying we’ll be OK.