Stalactites in the sky

Sometimes you spend the whole day just looking for a small break in the clouds.  The drip, drip, drip of falling rain on the already swollen landscape; the soaked roads, the shimmering trees, the saturated grass, the damp people, the dirty puddles, the massing of flood plains and the freezing air.  This deluge all seems too much to bear on mother earth's tough crust. 

Yep, Leo and I are smack, bang back in England.  It's a stark contrast to the tropical and humid heat of Uganda - one that has been stripped from our memories - so we're embracing it as stoically as we can by stuffing our faces with pastries.  This has not prevented colds, flu, possible malaria, snapped in half baby tooth, rogue coughing, hunched shoulders and a wet scarf rubbing on a sore chin.

Catching our chilled breath, clutching a gloved hand, scooting on footpaths, potty training on hold, steaming cups of tea and often trying to entertain a wild toddler in a contained space have been order of the day.  February is a crazy time to be home, parts of the country are experiencing severe flooding after months of continual rain, but in other corners of the world Kiev is burning, Venezuela is protesting and Syria remains at conflict. 

I press my face into the winds of change and breathe hope into the chilled air as I gently and very quietly share my news.  There is a small heart beating close to mine, a tiny life that has surprised the hell out of mine.  I have found it difficult to articulate this pregnancy before now, mainly because I've been in denial, but at 14+ weeks it's becoming harder to hide the expanding tummy and the anxious look of a grizzly bear from my face.

There are still plenty of blanks to fill in about how we got from there to here, but for now I'm trying to remember to breathe and avoid the dripping stalactites...whilst carefully holding on to the sunshine.