If I was a betting woman — which I am most definitely not — I would bet that I am probably pregnant. Probably.
I would probably put 80% of my money on red … or black, or whatever meant that I was pregnant.
Because if I am not … then it means I am sick. I am definitely something.
I felt gross and nauseous yesterday, and feel the same today. The metallic taste and saliva-overload is now in Day Three. I also had a bit of a dizzy spell while picking up wrapping paper for Best Friend’s wedding gifts.
I have been downing lemonade and sucking on mints and orange Vitamin C drops to help with the ickiness. I have no appetite, and at this very moment, Darling Husband is eating my delicious homemade pizza, and I am eating … oh yeah … crackers and Ginger Ale. Seriously. It is all I felt like having.
Something is up. And that isn’t even the hypochondriac in me talking. It is either the flu, a long-lasting bout of low blood sugar, nerves about the wedding, or … the very, very early stages of pregnancy.
I’m Heather Laura Clarke. I’m a writer living in beautiful Nova Scotia, I have a 12-year-old son and a 10-year-old daughter, I married my high school sweetheart, and this is the story of my handmade life.
I have depression and anxiety, and I fight like hell every day to keep them from taking over my life. Creating things helps.
Whether I’m writing novels, decorating a room, busting out my power tools to build furniture, getting muddy in the pottery studio, sewing clothes, or cross-stitching a swear word, I’m all about using my creativity to craft a life I love.
I’ve been writing this blog since 2009, so if you dig deep into the archives, you’ll meet a bright-eyed 25-year-old newlywed who was basically obsessed with having kids, buying a cozy house, and supporting herself full-time with her writing. (Spoiler alert: she got exactly what she wanted.)