Doctors, schmoctors

I went to visit my wonderful GP surgery today. I was booked in with the lovely lady who helped me through work place bullying and consequent mild depression earlier this year. She hadn’t got the message about why I needed the appointment so when I told her I was pregnant she grinned at me and said ‘Good for you!’ we had a nice chat, mostly about what foods I shouldn’t eat, as Hubs and I have done lots of research on this whole pregnancy lark.

Not saying that we’re not open to advice, we just wanted to make sure at our geriatric ages of 35 and 38 respectively we knew a bit more than average and were a little bit prepared. Now if only I could bank some sleep…

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