Morning at the Movenpick - 8 October

I dropped Harry off at the playschool at 9 and headed to the Movenpick Hotel. I sat there, drinking coffee and looking at the other guests. I chose it because it is across from Henry's workplace and he would be able to join me for breakfast before I had to pick Harry up again at 12. I savored the time sitting there with my cappucino and my thoughts. I bought myself the "New African" at the hotel shop, but would read it later. I thought about my mother and allowed myself to wallow in self-pity. My eyes were red and puffy after having a good cry the night before.

I have not completed an important research report for my studies, and it was weighing on me. I should focus on that now, I told myself. Complete this report before end November and you would have the whole 2010 to attend to the adoption.

I thought about Henry. He is reluctant about the adoption. I can't do this without him. I need his support. I need him to be on board. And I literally need his signature. We will need to do this together, or not do it at all. What will I do if he refuses to go through with it? He was not particularly enthusiastic about having either of our two other children, but once I was pregnant he beamed. He turned out to be the most loving, involved father ever. And that is why he can appreciate the amount of time and work that goes into caring for a baby. He is realistic and rational and reluctant. Can't blame him.