The sun’s out (at last) and things are good! I was just reading back over my last post – I sounded a bit tired and dreary (oops). Bub is now 9 months old and I finally feel like I’ve somewhat hit my stride. The highlight being our first trip in central London last week – a wheel on our pram fell off and rolled under the train at London Bridge (!) Somehow I made it home with a lop-sided pram and a screaming child. I feel a tad superhuman now…ha.
I’ve also finally treated myself to some new summer clothes – I may not be the shape I was hoping for at this point in time, but I’m cool with that for now. This summer is going to be about regaining the colour in my life (years of gynae issues etc have meant being stuck in black jeggings for fear of leaking in public..nice).
I’ve got some KIT days coming up and am rather looking forward to popping into work again – I can have a lunch break….and a cup of tea!!!!!!!
I’ve also picked up my pen and started writing letters again – it’s so nice to receive smiles in the post. Slowly but surely, I’m finding myself again. Yay!
I love this quote:
‘There’s always a story. It’s all stories, really. The sun coming up every day is a story. Everything’s got a story in it. Change the story, change the world’ (Terry Pratchett)
I’ve amended it slightly (sorry, Terry) to ‘Change your story, change your world’. That’s what I’m going to do!!!
Strangely, Mother’s Day hasn’t felt quite as I’d imagined. I hope I don’t sound horribly ungrateful – I’m really not. I spent many years wondering if I would ever have a little someone to celebrate the day with and I’m incredibly happy to now be in that position. I definitely got a little teary-eyed when my husband handed over my first ever Mother’s Day card on behalf of bub. But that’s about it. I think part of it is that every day is now a sort of Mother’s Day (in all senses of the word – the lovely and the less-so!) and I finally begin to understand why my own mum didn’t care that much for it. There isn’t time! ‘Thanks for the card, dear….right, let’s get dinner on’ (!)
On that note, I’m sad that my mum is bed-ridden (thanks, Parkinson’s, you absolute bastard) and although I’m thankful she’s still with us, these celebratory days just aren’t quite the same. Birthdays, anniversaries, etc etc. Not that we mope our way through them, far from it, but life just goes on and I guess I care about them less.
How am I doing at trying not to sound ungrateful?!
I do also think about the little monkeys that didn’t make it. One happy, healthy baby is a miracle indeed but you never quite forget about the ones that could have been here but aren’t.
I suppose my celebration will be low-key…cuddles with my bub and spending some time looking after mum. Reaching out to friends who I think might need a hug across the miles, today. 🙂
Crikey! It’s actually been almost 7 months since my bub arrived. I don’t even know where to start. I’ve experienced highs, lows, tears (happy and sad ones) and all of a sudden I realised why my parents would sit up and wait for news from me on my nights out, even in my 30s!! The realisation that life will definitely never be the same again now that I have this little being to take care of and nurture.
I won’t lie – it’s been beyond challenging. There have been times where I have lost it (and felt immense guilt straight afterwards)…but I’ve met some lovely mums at my local Baby Sensory class and we’ve all been muddling along, keeping each other sane.
Life is a mix of slow moments and whirlwind moments. Sometimes I can just about remember my name! Other times, bub has a (rare) long nap and I can put my feet up and enjoy a cuppa!
This morning I decided to give myself permission to feel tired…to feel frustrated…to feel whatever I’m feeling.
Because of the nature of my journey to motherhood, I’d told myself that I could never feel negative emotions because isn’t this, a lovely healthy baby, what I would have killed for last year? Stay upbeat, be grateful. That was my mantra.
Only that hasn’t worked out well. Or doable. The colic and early issues with the mother in law (long story) have had a cumulative impact on me that I need to try to stop suppressing.
I realised after a good cry this morning that to help resolve my problems I need to accept they exist and let myself feel the very normal emotions that I’d told myself I had no right to feel.
So yes, every now and then it does get on top of me. My baby is beautiful and I love her beyond words but yes, some days it is hard. When nothing will soothe her, or I can’t even find time to shower or eat a decent meal (me and Uncle Ben are firm friends now), then I feel not so bubbly. Not so overwhelmed with joy at my blessing.
All I know is that it will get easier. For now I’ll enjoy beyond words the happier moments like having her sleep in my lap, little hands clinging to me. She won’t be this little for long. She’ll likely be demanding for life (ha) but that’s what I wanted. Ultimately that’s okay. We’ll all get better at dealing with it, learning as we go.
Wowsers. What day of the week is it?! It’s been an absolute whirlwind….I can’t even begin to describe the first month (big saga revolving around the mother in law….!). Bub has colic so I’ve been tested to my limits. The day she cried from 8pm to 4am was the lowlight! Despite it all, when she smiles it’s all forgotten. Until the next gremlin episode…ha.
Ultimately we’ll get through it, I’m told it’s temporary and will pass over the next month or so. I’ve wanted her for so long and one way or another we will get through this grumpy patch to the fun beyond 🙂
Safely delivered last week. Currently tearing my nipples to pieces (!) but she is the cutest little bundle of joy (and source of new found parental anxiety!)
Feeling profoundly blessed xx
It’s been a crazy week. A bit of spotting (argh, how I hated seeing that fresh red blood for the first time since last year) meant I had to go back to hospital and although it stopped right away, they kept me in for 24hrs just to observe….and to give me wonderful steroid injections in my bum just in case they needed to get bub out before I hit 39 weeks (we’re now 39+2).
Thankfully all was fine. I’m ready for the op now though. I was talking to a friend, yesterday, about how the paranoia of the first trimester starts to creep back in towards the end. We’re so close now. 24 hours. I admit to poking the bub awake occasionally in the mornings (that’s what I’ve just been doing) to make sure she or he is still okay.
While I was in, another consultant decided to have a poke around before admitting me and although I humoured her comments at the time (it was past midnight when she saw me and I was very tired), I’m really irritated now. She was astonished at not being able to feel up to my cervix etc etc and I felt like the Elephant Man. A freak show. She asked if I could share the notes from my op of a few years ago (where I had the transverse septum excised) as she’d never come across such a case before. Only in the days after did it dawn on me how much of an anomaly it made me feel and now I’m worried about what the future will bring – what the hell has happened to my insides?! I had a thorough internal exam last summer and all seemed okay so I can only assume the weight of the pregnancy has squished things? Maybe?! I have no idea!
Anyway (!) I need to concentrate on the here and now. We’ll cross the next bridge in due course. Bub has done a few shuffles so I’m sort of satisfied that they’re alright in there and I can try to get back to sleep. 🙂