Briefly:
Was honoured to be asked by a friend to be one of her birth partners. The baby boy was due early March. Except he was born by emergency caesarean on January 10. He was born in country Victoria before being flown to Melb. He's been in neo-natal intensive care but is improving every day. Thankfully. A bed in Melb was found for his mum four days later... ridiculous. But she's OK too. He'll be in hospital until he reaches about six pounds or his expected birthdate, whichever eventuates first.
Birthday was lovely, thanks. Celebrations went on for several days and there'll even be a post-birthday treat next weekend, courtesy of a friend who wants to outrageously spoil me. Yay! But now I'm oooooooolllllllllldddddddd...
Shared those gorgeous butternut snap/caramel/chocolate treats around. Proud of myself for doing so! Have bought a stepper, which I vow to use at least twice a week. And will swim twice a week. And walk. And cut out most of the crap I eat. Fuck.
My youngest sibling is getting married. Was originally scheduled for October but has been brought forward to May because of the whole dying father situation. I'm a bridesmaid. Oh god, I'm likely to look like a walking wall of fabric. Although yes, I totally realise the day's not about me.
Dying father: he's been having radiotherapy and steriods but there's been complications (he has diabetes and the drugs are fucking with his blood sugar, apparently, plus he's got infections from somewhere.) Prognosis: steady.
That's about it. Although dealing with federal government bureaucracy has been... interesting. And time consuming. More about that later.
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