Head in the Sand

So the removalists have gone.  Accounts are being closed.  I'm almost packed. There is definitely an air of finality.

BoyWonder doesn't understand how I didn't realise things were bad before.

Perhaps my head was in the sand.  He neither came to my initial gynaecologist appointment, when I found out I was pregnant with Pickle, nor the 12-week scan, which was truly amazing, especially when Pickle did a somersault in-utero. 

Glaringly obvious signs in hindsight, though I know that some men just don't get "it". (Whatever "it" is, but I expect that's a whole other blog post.)

So right now, while we've metaphorically battered heads on occasion, but still generally get on well, it's just time to be a little sad.  I just need to remind myself that there are new beginnings and exciting adventures ahead for Pickle & I.