maybe it's because I'm at the end of chemotherapy, but I feel more frightened than before. maybe it's because I have strange aches in and around my chest and upper abdomen. maybe it's just that sometimes I wake up and remember what is happening to me, and still can't quite believe it. but I am having trouble staying positive, and it seems every small interaction with A. is tinged with fear that I could just get sick and die really quickly, and what would happen to him then? who will know all the animals he knows the sounds for? who will sit and rock him quietly at midnight when he cries? who will blow raspberries on his tummy when he's getting dressed after his bath? yes his Dad is good with him, but he's busy. he has to work. he doesn't have the same feel for the little details as I do. and he's not the one A. calls when he wakes up in the morning. I just can't die. but I might.

meanwhile, my swims are invaded by women in bright red bathers with huge pregnant bellies, there was an eight-day-old baby at mothers' group today, and the other IVF woman in my group, who is 42, is unexpectedly 13 weeks pregnant with a boy and not all that pleased about it either. another woman told me about her miscarriage and I was properly sympathetic. but I'd take a miscarriage and the ability to try again over a five-year wait any day.

oh, enough sookiness. think I'll go and have a bath and try to remember that I am still alive, that my baby is monkey-crazy, and that at least some of my dreams are seeming more within reach than ever - as long as I stay alive.