58 Weeks

In the middle of a storm, whilst nursing an excitable and smiley little boy to sleep, I worked out that it is exactly 58 weeks since Fredders splashed his way into the birthing pool. I know, I know – he’s ONE I hear you all say …. Note to self; must not become one of those Mums who answers the “how old is he?” question with “62 and a half weeks”. Seriously, my eyes would’ve rolled at this a couple of years ago … how motherhood changes you …. !

Last time I blogged I was exhausted. I’m still exhausted, but not debilitatingly so. Sleep is still hit and miss [“Last night was better” I said at work the other morning, “he only woke 4 times”] – but there have been some sunny days and plenty of outings in the fresh air. There was a first pony ride on a miniature Shetland called Samson, an afternoon with new baby lambs, and a holiday booked to Woolacombe in June with Auntie Cat. The weeks seem to be whizzing by faster than ever, and although I still hanker for time to slow down a little, I’m enjoying the current developments – the very nearly walking phase [come on Fred, you can do it!], and the brilliant toddler babble which Fredders enunciates so sweetly – babaggagamammadizzydoo. He gives kisses and cuddles, as well as sinking his gnashers into me and chuckling when I squeal. His current pastimes include removing his shoes and socks, taking momma’s books off the bottom shelf of the bookcase and showing off his new enthusiastic waving skills. Current dislikes include having his teeth cleaned, lying still for a nappy change, and Momma reclaiming her iPhone. He has character, and I fully approve of his cheekiness.

Going it alone is a tough one, but so rewarding … ours is a happy home; a happy chaotic home, with sticky fingerprints and copious amounts of hanging laundry. My lounge is akin to Toys R Us, and yes – he still sleeps in my bed. We have little in the way of a routine – but this life works for us … his smile tells me it works. What on earth would I do without him?

And now it must be time for Horlicks …

My little bit of perfect …

I’m sure I dropped a not-quite-toddler off at the childminders this week and collected a little boy five hours later; a little boy who was sitting playing cars, interacting, smiling, and very proud of his new shoes. Oh time, just let me press pause for a little moment; let me catch my breath and savour it all a little bit more. Surely it was only yesterday that I watched in amazement as those blue lines emerged on the pregnancy test …. and soon that little cluster of cells will be walking …

Miraculous; this thing called life. We should never get so bogged down by the mundane that we neglect to appreciate the miracle. I still look at my sleeping babe and wonder how I made him; how my womb carried him, how my ladyparts expelled him, and how my breasts continue to feed him. I wonder how I’ve survived on so little sleep; and yet realise how these precious days will not be remembered for tiredness, but for all the memories and moments they contain.Sometimes I need reminding of this at 2.34am when I’m on the third feed of the night … [I have  been known to utter profanities, and then worry that Fuck will be his first word …]

My little boy is nearly 13 months old, rosy cheeked from the eruption of yet more molars. He’s at that “I want to feed myself yet can’t quite manage it” phase, which often results in my culinary labours being hurled across the kitchen at speed. I found myself reasoning with him last week “darling, there are starving children in the world who would love momma’s Spaghetti Bolognaise”. As I said it I heard echoes of my own childhood responses … “send it to them then, I don’t want it!” Please eat it sweetheart. Momma worries if you don’t eat …

It often feels that my greatest daily achievement is getting us both out of the flat dressed, washed and fed, by 8am. By the time I sit at my desk at work, I am just grateful for a hot cup of tea which I can drink with both hands. I can even go to the loo without an audience.

No one could’ve told me how hard this would be and yet how wonderful. I worry that this Blog has become a cliched melange of fromage – but my sleep deprived brain means every word. Single motherhood is a path no one would choose; and yet it is something of which I’m proud. We’re doing this, and we’re doing this well … even on the days when it feels like the treadmill is going too fast, or the lack of sleep is going to destroy every last brain cell.

20.47; I’m sitting in bed wearing mismatching pyjamas and drinking a nice glass of Sauvignon Blanc, Fredders snoring beside me. My little bit of perfect.

Felicem diem natalem tibi

When my baby wakes up he will be 1. At 4.39am precisely he will have been in the world for a whole year [plus one day, with the leap year?] A year! A year! How did this happen? I could tell you in great detail what I was doing a year ago this evening … those industrious hours before Fredders propelled himself into the birthing pool, and life [not to mention my pelvic floor] was never the same again.

I had envisaged sitting here tonight with a glass or two of wine, reminiscing about the amazingness of March 5th 2015. As it is, I’m sitting in bed beside a sleeping Fred, drinking tea. Antibiotics for stubborn chest infection have left me rather off colour this week … but now I have regained a voice, I’m confident that tomorrow’s party will go off well. The wonderful toybox arrived and has already got Master Worthington-Phillips’ approval. His presents and balloons are waiting in the lounge …

I admit, I am a little emotional that as from tomorrow I won’t have  a baby anymore [although of course, he will always be my baby]. I have cherished every moment with this bundle of boy, but my God it has gone fast … it genuinely seems a few weeks ago that I pulled him, red faced and wailing, out of the water [with what looked and felt like half my vagina on his head] I look back amazed at how little I knew then … how motherhood has changed me, and enriched me. I look back and wonder what on earth I did [and why I never appreciated the leisurely weekends of selfish nothingness!] beforehand!

Fredders and I have done so much this year … we’ve met so many fantastic people, and carved out a little routine for ourselves. Yes, sometimes it’s tougher than tough; sometimes when we’ve both been poorly and running on 3hours sleep and need to be out of the flat by 8am – I want to curl up in my wardrobe with a pillow over my head and cry …. but you just get through it. Motherhood is fuelled by the toothy grins and chuckles which somehow make all the lack of sleep and shitty nappies 110% worthwhile … he grew in my tummy, and my boobies still feed him [go me, GOLDEN BOOBIES!] … this little person who now cruises around the lounge pushing his walker … my little boy, my son …

Not only Freddie’s first year, but my best year …

 

Nearly Golden Boobies!

This time last year I was enormous. I was reminded just how enormous I was by Timehop this morning. Freddie was definitely running out of womb, and I was in that wonderful waiting phase … looking wistfully at the moses basket, unbelieving my baby would soon fill it. How I ache to relive those times …

I live next door to a lovely large park … this park holds many memories for me. One of the earliest memories is walking back from town through this park with my Nan when I was about 6, stopping to sit on a bench and eat a Woolworths pick n mix. Last year when preggers I would regularly walk a few laps … in fact, it was on one such outing that I fell on my bottom on the ice on March 2nd last year … hurrying Freddie’s arrival. I walked laps of that park before going to the hospital in labour … I went on the blooming zip wire, and my cousin knew things were hotting up when I said “I don’t think I can do another circuit“! Freddie and I go to the park most days now, and this afternoon as I pushed him on his trike, I smiled at the crocus’ protruding through  the ground, in the same spots as this time last year … I remember stopping to admire them mid contraction by the tennis courts.

Had I blogged last week, or earier this, it would have been a depressing entry. Freddie was so poorly with his chest, which meant even less sleep than usual … and the mummy worries/guilt were off the scale. I then got the dreaded lurgy too, so it was a very sorry weekend with a lot of snot and a few tears. I think sleep deprivation can be absolute agony; and combined with poorliness, was not a good combination. I’m pleased to report that we’re both on the mend … and life has resumed it’s usual pace.

This afternoon I took Fred to the barbers for the first time. I’m finally realising that my baby is no longer a baby! His hair was looking a little unkempt in his neck … and he really enjoyed sitting in the chair being pampered. Obviously I kept a lock for his memory box, along with the receipt … and when I put it in there earlier, was struck by how small his first outfit was …my baby Freddie …

I’m also awaiting shipment of Freddie’s 1st birthday present; a toybox designed by the Traditional Toybox Company. It is just as I’d asked for … and I can’t wait for it to arrive .. although I’m still a little unbelieving that it has been a whole year since Fredders popped out of my vagina. I’ve been a mummy for nearly a year, and in breastfeeding terminology this is GOLDEN BOOBIES – not bad for someone who was going to give up after 3months!

 

 

 

Crying, calpol, and one motherf****r of a molar

It has been a long time since I blogged; which is a reflection of the limited time available being a single mum to a crawling/climbing and ever mobile Freddie! The weeks are chugging by, and so many milestones are being reached … wonderful, poignant, exhausting … my little darling now pushes his walker along, and he gets very cross when I prevent him from ascending the bookcase.

Shortly after my last entry I painted a mural in F’s nursery. I love a bit of paint, and it was really good fun to put together this design. I had of course hoped that making the nursery pretty, with new retro cot bed and chest of drawers, and play mat … would entice my son to actually sleep in it … but the little darling prefers sleeping in momma’s bed .. and momma is usually so tired by 7pm that momma lets him snuggle up. One day he will want to sleep in his own room, and one day he WILL sleep through the night … and I’ll probably miss him!

We are currently cutting one motherf****r of a molar. This has led to lots of crying and calpol, rosy cheeks and nasty nappies. Please God, let there be a break between this one and the next. Momma shouldn’t be drinking wine on a school night!

We have recently been to a lot of 1st birthday parties and Freddie’s party is all booked for

5th March 2015 – 5th Feb 2016

5th March … I can hardly believe I have an almost one year old. So much has happened, it has been SUCH an incredible year. A year of so much love and so little sleep … of resilience and determination, and laughter. I still look back fondly on this time last year, when I was enormous and already on maternity leave. Little did I know the adventures that lay ahead. It is such a privilege to watch this darling little boy develop his personality and character. He is of course, worth all the Estee Lauder concealer I’ve needed to purchase to hide the dark circles under my eyes …. 🙂

For now though, at 19.42 on a Monday, I’m enjoying a nice cup of tea ….

The things I didn’t know then

This time exactly 10 months ago, I was dipping my toe into the birthing pool, about to spend an incredible 8 hours breathing, swearing, laughing, pushing, grunting, and finally catching my darling little Fred in my arms. This is the last photo of the bump, taken prior to the filling of the pool. You’ll note I have a sandwich on the bed; even labour doesn’t stop me from eating! 10 months on, I’m sitting in bed as I often am when blogging … Fred is fast asleep beside me, and I’m reminiscing; unable to fully comprehend that it was LAST YEAR. My baby was born LAST YEAR. I look at this photo, at the Verity sitting on the birthing ball in her huge maternity night shirt, and realise there was a lot I didn’t know then …. as my cervix dilated, I was about to begin a huge learning curve into motherhood.

Funny thing is, I thought I was tired when this photo was taken; I’d been in slow labour for two days, and at this point I considered 4 hours sleep in a row very meagre and disappointing indeed. Today I would bite my right arm off for 4 hours sleep in a row!!! I genuinely think it’s amazing how the human body adapts to sleepless nights …

When this photo was taken I had a vague notion that I wanted a natural birth and wanted to breastfeed. I hadn’t written a birth plan because I didn’t think it possible to plan for something which I’d never experienced. I got my drug free birth, and I’m still breastfeeding! I never imagined I’d still be breastfeeding at 10 months [I thought 6 months was a big goal at the time!], and I’m so proud that I’ve managed to continue despite initial setbacks. I never imagined how painful it would be at the beginning, nor how rewarding and fulfilling. My boobs have a purpose, and I think it’s pretty frigging amazing that my body is making milk to feed Fred. He looks good on it too.

You can’t see my nails in this photo but they were immaculately painted because I wanted them to look nice in the first photo. I have probably painted my nails twice since then, once for a wedding and once for christmas … because it’s impossible to let them dry without being disturbed. I’m also now well adept at showering in under 4 minutes. A friend and I joked that applying moisturiser after a shower is now considered a luxury.

When this photos was taken I didn’t know what my Fred would look like, or the immediate and overwhelming love I would have for him. I didn’t know that everything before would blur into insignificance, that life would become totally and beautifully revolved around my little boy. I didn’t know the multitasking involved with motherhood, the growing strength of my biceps as I carry the boy around on my hip … I didn’t even know how to put on a nappy; and I remember being terrified of bathing him in the sink …

I have learnt more in the past 10 months than in the previous 32years put together. I’ve learnt what love really is, I’ve learnt it’s possible to give of yourself when you feel there’s nothing left in the tank … I’ve learnt that the human body is incredible, and that dusty skirting boards can wait …

I would do every last bit again, and perhaps one of the reasons I Blog, is to capture these moments – already too aware how fast time goes, and how quick these babies grow …

 

A year of firsts …

Freddie thoroughly enjoyed his Christmas lunch!

I never realised the little markers I would become emotional about during Freddie’s first year. His first Christmas was genuinely wonderful [the best yet], from the crib service on Christmas Eve where I found a lump in my throat and a sleeping baby in my arms during “Away in a Manger” – to his smiling party hat wearing replenished face on Christmas Day – to his excitement at seeing the hunt off on Boxing Day, his joy at all his new toys – and the realisation that 2015 is nearly over – the beautiful most glorious year of them all – the year when Freddie propelled himself from my vagina and rocked my world. It has been epic, and I can’t wait for the adventures to come … this morning Freddie is with his Daddy, and whilst I had intended to go back to bed and get some much needed, long forgotten SLEEP; I have in fact been a domestic goddess and am only just sitting down with a spot of lunch [which I can eat with both hands woohoo!] and my laptop; awaiting an online grocery order, and the return of my beautiful boy. I’m also busy designing a mural I’m going to paint on his bedroom wall … watch this space!

I dismantled the Christmas tree earlier – which remarkably survived the

Rocking the tweed at the local P2P

crawling babe and his curious hands … as I packed away the decorations neatly into a box, I realised that next year I’ll be looking at the “Freddie’s 1st Christmas” decoration with so many more memories; with no doubt a poignancy that time will still have gone too quickly. Just as this year I’ve thought back to last, when enormous and emotional – I somehow got through it. This time last year I was thinking “in two days time, it will be 2015, and I can finally say my baby will be born this year“. I’m now realising the little cherub will be 10 months old next week, and his 1st birthday looms … how, how, how, is that even possible?

So much has changed in this year; I wonder what on earth I did before becoming a Mummy; where I found my fulfilment without Fred … it has been a year of total overwhelming love, a year of exhaustion and fear, of excitement and courage. It is perhaps the only year of my life I can look back on with pride – with a real sense of achievement – and pride not only in myself, but in my little boy – whose smile and happiness says it all. I still long for the day when he sleeps for longer than 3 hours in a row … but he will sleep eventually … one day … one fine day I shall sleep for 7 hours again …

In the meantime, I endeavour to savour the middle of the night feeding cuddles, and appreciate how lucky I am … to be Freddie’s Mummy …

 

The evening worries of a mother

19.19 – Fulfilling my desire to Blog before [hopefully] some much needed sleep. I haven’t left the flat today; Freddie went on the Santa Express with his Daddy this morning, and I blitzed the housework – two loads of laundry; kitchen, hall and bathroom floors cleaned, shower screen scrubbed, vaccumed everywhere, windowlened the windows, polished everything wooden, rearranged the kitchen, had yet another sort out of Fred’s clothes, and changed bed linen. Oh, and finished wrapping Christmas presents. This literally took me over 3.5 hours, and by the time I sat down to some lunch – it was nearly time for Fred to return. Skirting boards still need attention. Fredders had a lovely time, and arrived home clutching a polar bear toy which he has chuckled at all afternoon. He’s going through a phase of crying when I leave him or he leaves me, which I find really difficult. When his daddy picked him up this morning, he cried with his arms outstretched, and I could hear him crying all the way down the stairs. I could quite easily cry with him when he does this, but I know he stops after a few minutes. The slightly neurotic/sleep deprived part of me worries he’ll be scarred for life by these little upsets, but in my more rational moments I know that it’s just a normal part of growing up. I miss him when he’s not here. I really, really miss him. We had a lovely day yesterday seeing Santa at a local garden centre. The boy smiled and smiled, and enjoyed lunch in the pub afterwards …

I’m tired today. Work was tough last week; we had a couple of really bad nights [lesson learnt; don’t change a nappy at 3am in the dark with no glasses on, as this will lead to a badly put on nappy, which explodes at 4am all over the bed.] – I had some kind of tummy bug one day, and I think having to be out of the flat by 8am four days in a row has made the tiredness even worse. Oh yes, and the whole Christmas thing, trying to remember everyone’s presents and cards and generally make it a beautiful celebration. It’s wonderful, but exhausting. Things seem so much more do-able in the summer with all that vitamin D and light nights.

I think it must go with the territory of being a Mum, that we doubt everything we do, and worry we’re messing it all up. There are so many ideals associated with motherhood [especially around Christmas] – all I want is for my baby to be happy. The only thing important to me from now until eternity, is that I can be the mother my son needs – that he always knows he’s loved and listened to. I want him to have a fun childhood with lots of laughter. Of course, we laugh a lot together already – and the past 9 months have been filled with every possible baby group. In the quiet moments, when Fred’s asleep; I do worry … worry that he will miss out, that I should’ve tried harder with his Dad so to have given him a “conventional” family set up. I worry that I’ll never ever sleep for longer than 4 hours in a row and that this might genuinely send me batty or age me beyond recognition. I worry about being able to provide for him, being able to create those memories I so desperately want to create.

Then I think back to Calcutta and the years volunteering there; to the hundreds of people who queued up on Christmas morning at Shishu Bhavan waiting to be fed. I think of the families at Sealdah station and how they live literally hand to mouth, hour to hour. I realise the two contexts aren’t comparable, but as I have lived in both – I know first hand the temporality. I know that Freddie already has so much more than so many. He is a lucky and loved little boy.

Some days I watch my ever growing boy, and am taken aback at the enormity of the responsibility before me. It is both exciting, and terrifying. I’ve never wanted to get something right more. They say motherhood changes you, but I never quite envisaged how much ….

And now, I REALLY need to sleep …..

 

Always be my baby …

You know that poem, can’t think of the name or even the exact words, let alone who wrote it. Until this year I’d always considered it soppy and a trifle cheesy; the one which goes something along the lines of “Time goes too fast for those who … too slow for those who …“? All I can say, as I’m 5 days away from returning to work – how true! Where oh where did these 9 months go. On Saturday my darling boy will have been in the world for 9 whole months … that’s equal to the amount of time he spent cooking in my tummy. I’ve pondered the strange concept of Mummy time ever since Fred’s arrival … but this week I’ve been a bit emotional at the prospect of maternity leave drawing to an end. I’ve looked back on the beautiful memories of the past 9 months; how much fun we’ve had, and all the things we’ve experienced together. I know I am fortunate, to have savoured every last moment, and to have shared so many precious moments with my baby [and to have recorded many in this Blog]. We’ve done Baby Sensory, Moo Music, Water Babies, Tiny Tots, Baby Painting, Breastfeeding Group, Rhythm Time … we’ve been to beach parties and halloween parties; and this Sunday I’m particularly excited about a “my first Christmas” party. We’ve made friends, and we’ve developed a lovely routine together.

Babies grow so quickly; quicker than I was ever prepared for. It seems like yesterday I was nursing a growing bump this time last year; wearing a “Santa Baby” t shirt and wondering what life would be like a year on. Never could I have imagined how amazing 2015 would’ve been with my Freddie in the world. Somehow, you take home a newborn, and blink … and you have a babbling, crawling, tooth chomping 9 month old. REWIND PLEASE! It scares me how fast Freddie has grown; I still remember our first night here so well. It’s different, being a single mum – because you spend so much one on one time with your baby. Those first weeks, it was just me and Fred in our flat, and I’m proud that I’ve managed, and nurtured such a sociable, cheerful and loving little boy. There were times when I was so tired I didn’t think I could get out of bed and function let alone change a nappy; yet you do … out of love. There’s no one to share the middle of the night worries with, or to debate parenting philosophies at 4am; but that makes you stronger, because you get on and do it on your own.

I keep telling myself that 16 hours over 4 days is perfectly do-able. I’ve done two Keep in Touch days, and Freddie has been fine, and delighted to see me on my return. My boobs have survived the morning without exploding over my blouse, and I know we will adapt our routine. It will be fine; yet I know I will hanker after these glorious days of maternity leave – 0f planning your week around play dates and baby groups. I’ll miss being there for every first; and I hate the thought of my baby crying and momma not being there to make it better. It feels like the first Rite of Passage into non-babyhood, and this does make me sad. Freddie will always be my baby … my little boy.

And tonight, as we were bopping in the kitchen to Kelly Clarkson’s “Underneath the Tree” whilst I cooked tea, Freddie was bouncing up and down in his high chair, chuckling … I looked at him and realised that I have a little boy now .. not a baby; a little boy with such personality and expression. A little boy who will clap when I say “clap” and wave when I say “wave”. And he’s mine, he’s really mine … the little boy who entered the world splashing around in the birthing pool 9 whole months ago; enriching my world and capturing my heart.

Novemberitis

My poorly little boy

My mother has an irrational phobia of November; she hates it. Dark mornings, dark nights, cold, dank, etc. I’m always trying to be buoyant about the cosy evenings, hot chocolates and snuggles on the sofa. And Ugg boots! And the”holiday season” Yankee candles. However, I admit that the past days have been VERY Novembery, and I would be very grateful for a plane ticket somewhere sunny for us to escape to.

Little darling Fred has been poorly sick with Bronchiolitis, and spent Saturday night in hospital. I think of all the nights of my life, Saturday was the worst. Freddie has a history of chest infections, and with ezcema too, I do wonder if he’ll have asthma as he grows up. Anyway, I try not to be the neurotic mother fretting at the GP surgery every week. In fact, after being told to judge Freddie’s wellness by how he is in himself rather than the crackles in his chest – I have been rather casual about his wheezes. By last friday, however, we were at the doctors because he didn’t seem his usual self and I felt he was struggling. Early Saturday morning it was a phonecall to 111 as he was pulling his tummy in with every breath, and not a happy or well little boy. I love the questions asked by the poor 111 assessors – had we been to Korea, or better still, an Ebola effected area! Sure love, because Liberia seems such a choice holiday destination with an 8 month old baby!! Eventually we were sent to Out of Hours and seen immediately; and from there we were sent to Worcester hospital, which is about 25 minutes away. Never has that journey seemed so long. This is a bit of a contentious issue as our local hospital was downgraded to a treatment centre when the new hospital at Worcester opened.

There are so many firsts being a mummy, and I hope Saturday was also my last experience of feeing so utterly helpless. It probably won’t be, but Freddie and I are still recovering from our night in hospital. I don’t know how mothers of seriously ill children cope. I hadn’t expected to be sent to Worcester, so was totally unprepared. My phone was on about 40% battery, and I had just my changing bag. When we arrived, there was no phone signal and the free hospital bedside phones only called landlines. It was a hard slog getting in touch with people – having to phone my cousin’s landline to get her to text Freddie’s Dad and other people, to let them know where we were. The staff were brilliant, but it was heartbreaking to see my little boy with an oxygen mask on, wired up to a machine. He is used to co-sleeping with his momma, and looked very troubled at being in the hospital cot. I stood over his cot stroking his hair until a nurse insisted I try and get some sleep around 1.30am. I just wanted desperately to take this from him; for me to be the one struggling to breathe, not my beautiful boy. Worst night of my life.

We were discharged on Sunday afternoon, and have so far had a very lazy week. Today we haven’t left the flat, and Freddie is now fast asleep beside me. He is on the mend, I have an inhaler and steroids for him, and he now has his appetite back. I’m savouring all the cuddles, as we have two precious weeks left of maternity leave left.

Today as a treat I ordered a very stylish Tula toddler carrier, so I can keep my boy close … and use him as a portable hot water bottle when the weather gets cold.

It’s 19.27, and I can’t keep my eyes open. Sleep is good.