Poo timing, 2 more days to go

As  write my blogs now I get more and more nervous, as each one is closer to me last. Its 2 days until this comes to an end. So I sit here with a nervous tummy for the second time today. Yes it was coil fitting day. Don't get me wrong I have had a coil fitted before, but back then I didn't have tuppy terror.
If you need more info on tuppy terror or you have forgot check out my previous blog. https://mummyleitbe.blogspot.com/2019/01/tuppy-terror.html Or if you cant be arsed to read it basically its a self diagnosed phobia. Caused by trauma regarding the virginal area. When you feel you can never have anybody go near it whilst you are laid on your back, legs spread, hanging of the end of a bed staring at a cardboard ceiling fitted with the brightest lights you can think of. Is it just my area or do all doctors and hospital have grey cardboard ceilings?
Anyway back on topic. The phobia had kicked in. And to make matters worse 5 minutes before my appointment and I suddenly need a number 2! What the fuck is wrong with me! What a dilemma to poo or not to poo? I decide not to poo, knowing I will regret it once I'm being told to "relax".
Why don't I just go on the pill? Well that's not really a good option for me right now, as hormonal changes have contributed to my depression so adding little white pills crammed full of these magical ingredients are not a good idea.
My therapist advised me to explain to the doctor about my fears but I just think its pointless. I feel the doctor would just be like "yeah whatever pants off  and on the bed" who isn't nervous at the end of the day. So I did as I was told bottoms off and on the bed. Anyone else hide their pants under their trousers when they remove them?
So I'm on the edge of the bed, shauns by my side trying to hold my hand. But I just glance at him with the don't fucking touch me eyes. And as if the room wasn't bright enough BAM a vagina headlight comes on. The things lit up like old Trafford!
Then the doctor starts telling me to relax and "soften my legs". At this point I want a word with the women. She's just trying to help but does she think I want to be squeezing my ass cheeks together like I'm trying to crack a nut between them? No in an ideal world I would be laid loose as a goose, how can I I'm about to shit my pants literally and I only met you 3 minutes ago and you now you talking to my vagina, relaxing aint happening.
After prodding and poking its done. And that's when the tears start. Normally in this situation I would convince myself I'm fine, but now I know pretending isn't always best. Painting a smile on and saying I'm fine just keeps everything trapped inside. So yes I cried, not a full on melt down I cant do this but a few tears. Each one the pain of my labour being set free.
This leads me to a confession, please don't judge me but I'm behind on my smear test. Something I have always had and nagged others to have. But since my new phobia I haven't dare have it. But this week I will get it booked. And if you are reading this and are behind,  I hope it gives you the courage to book yours also. We are braver than we think.
Since my last blog its been world book day. Shaun and my mum begged me not to go ahead with my book day idea. They thought it was unfair and lottie should be in a girly sparkly costume. Now I'm all for girly and sparkles, but this idea was way better and head to toe PINK. Yes she was piglet and she looked so cute! So much so that my mum and shaun had to eat their words.
I also took her to her weekly swimming lesson, where I am making a few friends myself. I've not made it into the IT crowd yet. Yano the mums that get out the pool looking better than when they got in and sit in the changing room talking about the latest designer beanie hat and im thinking about my bargain one I got of Ebay.
I get out the pool with hair flat to my head, goggle prints on my face and no chance to sit and chat in the changing rooms. Because frankly I'm out of breath from struggling to get lotties clothes on, and i've just spent half an hour wresting with my twisted bra.
Thank god we went for afternoon tea after where I ate my feelings and attempted to have a normal conversation whilst looking after a 10 month old. It never works, you get to the good bit of a story and they chuck a cheese sandwich across the room making you forget what you was even talking about. Meaning I miss out on all the goss whilst creating memories with my piglet.
May I also add I drove on the motorway alone to get to afternoon tea. Ill do anything for cake!
I'm off now guys, girls and gays. Mwah.