To get pregnant, we need to have sex. I realise this. I quite welcomed the idea. But I'm starting to walk like a sailor - bowlegged. Make that a sailor who jogged 50km yesterday and repeatedly fell on his (let's make it her) bum. Very, very carefully.
People at work are starting to ask questions. I told them I've taken up horse-riding. It's practically true.
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About this Blog
This is a fictional blog. A bit of a weird concept, I'll grant, but you'll soon get the idea. If you're looking at the latest entries and thinking, "huh?" you might want to check out my consecutive entries project for newcomers.
If you don't want to go to all that trouble, here's a summary - Anna Schmidt and her husband John are trying to get pregnant. Because it doesn't happen immediately, Anna starts researching methods of increasing one's fertility - with unpredictable and maybe hilarious results. Depends on your sense of humour, really.
About Me
- Naomi
- I talk to the TV (it gets my most biting wit). I'm married. I'm a christian (Salvation Army). I have a semi-dodgy past. I'm a parent (twice over). Low blood sugar makes me very, very grouchy. My non-Blogger blogs are: Nomesque Fiction (if you can't guess - my fictional writings) Beautiful Brisbane (my love/hate relationship with Brisbane) Nomesque Life (various thoughts, happenings, etc from the life of me)
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