This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.

It’s five o’clock in the morning. Daisy and Kevin are fast asleep, and I’m not. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. If she’s asleep, then I’m supposed to be collapsed into an exhausted stupor. I will pay for this later…

It’s been a pretty good Daisy week, but a much less good Mummy week (Mummy – that’s me. Sounds odd, doesn’t it?). I’ve seen three different GPs, all of whom were lovely, but none of whom has actually managed to make me better, as yet.

It started last weekend with stomach cramps (well, lower abdominal, rather than actual stomach), which I put down to constipation, at first, then later wondered if I had a urine infection, or a uterine infection, or a twisted cyst. So on Monday I saw Dr Siddell, who is the nice lady who made me feel better about the Piriton I took on holiday, and she said that she was tempted to hit me with constipation treatment, AND antibiotics, as that would address three possible options simultaneously. However, since I’m breastfeeding, she would try the constipation stuff first, and if I failed to improve, or got worse in any sense, especially if I started to feel at all feverish, I should come back ASAP.

On Tuesday, at about tea-time, I went for a lie down, and was gotten up again by a crying-to-be-fed baby after only twenty minutes. The thing is, I was absolutely freezing. I just couldn’t seem to get warm, once I tried to get up again. Then, on Wednesday morning, I woke up feeling really hot, and worrying about Daisy in such a hot room, whilst Kevin muttered “It’s fine. It’s not hot. It’s a bit chilly, actually.” Those two factors counted as feverish in my book, so we went back to the doctors’ surgery, and saw Dr Pollard, this time. Dr Pollard is also known as “Tess’ friend, Claire”, though I don’t know her personally, really. We just have a lot of mutual friends. She, too, was very, very nice, though, and not at all upset that I was becoming a near-daily visitor.

She prodded me, and confirmed that my urine sample had come back clear, and said that she was deeply suspicious of my womb. I don’t have some of the dead-giveaway symptoms of a uterine infection, but the whole thing is very tender when she presses on it, and whilst I didn’t really have a temperature, I was hot to touch, so she decided to give me the anti-biotics. She also told me to come back two days later, and see Dr Clarke (the third lady-doctor in the practice), just to keep an eye on me, and make sure I wasn’t getting any worse.

So on Friday – yesterday, in fact – Kevin and Daisy and I trundled BACK to the surgery to see Dr Clarke, who is ALSO lovely and kind, and basically said, “It’s too early to see if the antibiotics are helping, but at least you don’t seem to have gone downhill. If you take ill over the weekend, ring for a visit; if you’re no better by Monday come back.”

I feel like I’m turning into one of those old ladies who spends half their lives with the doctor. I really don’t visit the doctor that often, usually. My main reason for giving up on the Pill was because I had to go to the doctor’s every six months, and I kept forgetting.

I do feel better than I did on Wednesday. I felt quite sorry for myself, then. But I really need to be up and running again by Monday, because Kevin’s going back to work, and I don’t know that I can cope with Daisy by myself in this state.