36w+3d

I have pretty much given up all hope of the ex ever being a decent person. It's Fatbum's birthday on sunday and he refuses to come over and see him, because I won't let him take him out. No, I won't. He's my son, this is his home and people are coming to see him. It's not about Ex, and if he can't pull his head of his arse and put up for one day, then he can fuck off. It still upsets me. I thought he was a decent man and he isn't and I feel guilty for having children with him because he can't put them first. He's seeing him on Saturday, but only for a couple of hours, and thinks that is sufficent. He's a twat.

Why does everything have to be such a struggle? It's only a struggle or a problem because of him refusing to face people who might be slightly judgemental or because of his jealous, hissy-fit bird.

As far as the baby's concerned, my mind has shifted gear recently. Instead of feeling continually rejected by ex, I'm just getting on with it. I'm still in denial. I don't really believe this baby will come out. But, I need to stop relying on Ex to make me feel better about it because his head is trapped for eternity under the sand. He still seems to think the baby will never be born and I don't know what the hell he's going to do after I give birth. I hope he steps up, but I don't think he will. He's pathetic.
In the mean time, I am trying to get ready for the imminent arrival. Not easy, when all the stuff I would normally expect Ex to do gets put off and put off because he can't be arsed. Like assembling new furniture and getting baby things out of the loft. I haven't even got the buggy set up yet. And he's given me no money for anything baby related, despite promising to help me buy the buggy and maternity clothes. Stuff I, y'know, NEED.

Bump is still measuring a bit small, but Lump is apparently well curled up, which explains why. I may be hiding Gigantababy in there after all. I've had thrush for bloody ages from being on a cocktail of antibiotics for practically six weeks. My anaemia levels are all sorting themselves out and I feel pretty good - not too uncomfortable or achey and not too big.

I feel whiny and annoyed because I am sick of him acting like I want him back when I bloody don't. At all. Ever. I just want my kids to have a decent father, who puts them first, at least now and then. Instead, I have a selfish wanker who is so detached from reality, we might as well not exist.