If you don’t know me I’m sure you’re thinking “well, that’s a swollen face.” If you do know me, I invite you to pick your jaw up off the floor. To quote a friend “your beautiful face!”

For the next two weeks I kept telling myself the bloodwork was fine. Those I had told would speculate with me, most of us deciding I had some weird immune disorder.

It would make sense, my whole system has always been a little messed up anyway. I have a peanut allergy and have had it since 1986. I was the only kid in the school or at the party with a peanut allergy, way before it was cool (it is cool, right?) and I am happy to accept the crown on behalf of peanut allergy kids everywhere as the first one.

Armed with the knowledge that Lumpy wasn’t a tumour, I knew what I had to do. It was time to call my parents.

If you know my mother you know she worries. I don’t think she would mind me telling the world this because it’s just fact. The sky is blue, mom worries. The grass is green, mom worries. Unicorns aren’t real (sorry) and my mother worries. About big things. About small things. About things that aren’t even things. And certainly… she’s going to worry about this mother fucking thing.

For the next two weeks my husband and I held our collective breaths. I had my initial doctor’s appointment on Wednesday, January 6, 2021. After her “hmm… that’s odd” my ultrasound was scheduled for the following Friday, January 15.

I’m one of those people who knows things. About me. About you. It just comes naturally and has for as long as I can remember. I get where you’re coming from and why — although, admittedly, I’ve honed the skill over the last 10 years.