Seven words to describe this week:
My baby no longer needs my boobs.
This week has been a strange old week. The Baby turned One, I came to the realisation that the anxiety I have been experiencing is actually a little out of the realms of ‘normal’ (crying in the super-market car-park after shopping for picnic food the night before The Baby’s party, out of a) sheer relief that no-one knifed/kidnapped/attacked me, and b) shame that as a 32 year old woman I… Continue reading
I was told a story today about an overdose. It was an attempted suicide. It was, as intimated, unsuccessful, and the life in question still remains on this earth.
I heard this story from the mum of the distressed soul, and my heart broke into a thousand pieces.
As a mum… Continue reading
363 days ago I was in tears. They were tears of frustration, of despair, and of fear. I was due to be induced. The Baby was late. She had made herself far too comfortable and didn’t want to move (sadly, this was not a sign of things to come).
I, however, was far from comfy. I… Continue reading
As I drove home from work this evening, I suddenly felt OK. My iPod chose a song which made me do a deep breath, a long exhale, and a smile. It was Oh Valencia by The Decemberists and it made me, dare I say, happy.
I thought about getting home to my little girl, feeling her little arms around my neck as I lift her… Continue reading
The Baby has this look. It is a look that says a lot of things, but ultimately it says ‘I Really Don’t Care What You Say’. It is a look of complete and utter defiance. Never before have I seen such resolution and stubbornness in one look. And in a baby.
When she does The Look, it is quite difficult to believe that this time last year I was… Continue reading
It’s been a little serious on here of late. Actually, it’s been a little nothing on here of late. Sorry. I am getting things sorted, speaking to the right people, trying not to get too enraged that the NHS only endorse medication and CBT and no other form of talking therapy whatsoever, and attempting to employ deep breathing exercises and a voice-over in my brain who keeps telling me to… Continue reading
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