this had been written on 3 March 2017: 

So I said yesterday that grieving was like being hormonal to the power of 100. Well hormones appeared on the scene today in a double whammy… Oh my God…

I was looking forward to a nice weekend – I’d booked a Michelin starred restaurant for us tomorrow night, just me and the Saint, to thank him for his help and support and as a belated Valentine’s and to compensate for the fact that I’ve been a distracted, soggy mess since the 4 January; my daughter has a play date on Sunday and I am meeting a friend. I had worried last night that the meal was a set menu with drinks included and whether he would drink my alcohol allowance or whether they come up with an interesting alcohol free alternative and if the Saint would actually drink my allowance even if it was up for grabs! I imagined how I would have ruined that meal by getting totally plastered a few years ago… Anyway, tonight I was driving home thinking I needed to phone mum (I always phoned my parents on Friday for a recap of the week and to say what we were doing over the weekend) and just thought “I will never be able to tell dad about anything again” and I lost it. I sobbed uncontrollably all the way home. When I got in, the Saint took me in his arms and my daughter got jealous and said something like “I can see you two”. She then asked for a DVD to be put on and chose Enchanted. I said it was what I needed – a lovely feel good film. I said that it was actually the first film the Saint and I had watched together. He said bitterly “with your daughter” and I said yes, but it was still our first film together. He repeated “with your daughter”. He’d already told me he had a bad day at work, so I didn’t push it. We sat down for dinner and I couldn’t eat again and started chatting football with my son and then lost it uncontrollably again thinking that was something dad always discussed with him. My daughter came and sat on my knee to give me a cuddle and said “there, there, I’ll make it better” and went off to get me a teddy. The Saint looked furious. I asked what was up. He refused to tell me. Then he said something about my daughter playing the mother role and it wasn’t normal. I said nothing was normal right now and I wasn’t going to tell her off for trying to comfort me. Then he said something odd about “you’re a mother. I’m not a father.” He won’t explain it. I wonder if he’s starting to hate me getting my period as much as I do for all it symbolises…

I cancelled the restaurant. I’m not up to it this weekend. I petulantly told him he can use the voucher I got him for someone who can make him a father. He threw the voucher at me and said I could take one of my many boyfriends… So I think that’s soured the whole thing now! I’ll take mum when she comes over… I hate how irrational and badly behaved I am when hormonal… It’s almost like being drunk with no way of stopping what comes out of my mouth! But I do wonder if this tit-for-tat stuff is going on all month between them and if it is, I’m impressed I keep a lid on it/don’t react to it when hormones aren’t in play… But tonight it really fucking sucked.

xxx