Apologies for the HUGELY extended absence. I haven't gone away, just not had the time/energy to post. Will be back in the new year when things start to return to something resembling normality.
I hope you had a great Christmas and that 2007 brings happiness for you.
30 December 2006
20 November 2006
Eating out
We went to visit some friends in Stockport last weekend. It was great to see them - they used to live down south near us but relocated about 18 months ago. They seem to have chilled out so much - the commute to work is easier and the house prices seem daft to N and me!
N has known S since secondary school and they're really close, so it was lovely to be able to ask him to be our daughter's godfather. I think he was pleased - we didn't really know how to ask him and so it was a bit abrupt. I'm glad he said yes, as he's a fantastic bloke and our daughter is already fascinated by him!
While we were there, we visited the Trafford Centre for a wander and some lunch and so we went to a restaurant (a well-known pizza chain). Now, the pram-cum-pushchair we have is not small, and the table they showed us to was in the middle of the restaurant. We had to leave it in the middle of the aisle, which really bothered me - more because I didn't want to annoy anyone else! We sat in the very crowded restaurant (Saturday lunchtime in a major shopping centre should give you an idea) and ordered our food, hoping that our daughter would behave.
About 10 minutes before our starters arrived, she started getting crotchety. Uh-oh. So we decided to bring out our first (and only!) weapon: lunch. Not having brought the high chair to the shopping centre (I know, I know, school-boy error) I held her on my lap and N fed her. Cold goop from a jar - not the nicest. We got halfway through the jar and the starters arived, and of course they were far more interesting to her than her own lunch! Some minor rearranging of the table to remove all cutlery and salad from reach and we managed to finish her food. N ate his starter while I gave our daughter her bottle and then he burped her while I ate.
The waiters were excellent - although a little over-zealous when it came to plate clearing. Obviously our friends finished eating before us, and so the waiters were trying desperately to clear our plates, and then getting confused that we hadn't finished. They later told us that this was their second day open, which explained their keenness (and the fact that there seemed to be one waiter for every two diners!).
Once we'd finished feeding our daughter and our starters the rest of the meal passed without incident (apart from our daughter pulling cute faces at everyone sitting nearby that is). We were so proud - and so relieved!
Every little achievement like this feels like such a milestone, and allows N & me to think that we will possibly be able to have a social life again. We have our friends from York visiting this weekend and possibly next week, so it will be interesting to see how much difference there is between our daughter and their son who is 8 weeks younger. Of course, me being such a big soppy softy, I also feel slightly sad that she's growing up so much. But not enough to want to go back to the early days of no sleep and all that screaming!
_________________________
Sorry that I've not been posting so regularly - life has been getting in the way again! I have a couple of posts floating in my mind at the moment, so I will try and commit them to screen in the next week if possible.
N has known S since secondary school and they're really close, so it was lovely to be able to ask him to be our daughter's godfather. I think he was pleased - we didn't really know how to ask him and so it was a bit abrupt. I'm glad he said yes, as he's a fantastic bloke and our daughter is already fascinated by him!
While we were there, we visited the Trafford Centre for a wander and some lunch and so we went to a restaurant (a well-known pizza chain). Now, the pram-cum-pushchair we have is not small, and the table they showed us to was in the middle of the restaurant. We had to leave it in the middle of the aisle, which really bothered me - more because I didn't want to annoy anyone else! We sat in the very crowded restaurant (Saturday lunchtime in a major shopping centre should give you an idea) and ordered our food, hoping that our daughter would behave.
About 10 minutes before our starters arrived, she started getting crotchety. Uh-oh. So we decided to bring out our first (and only!) weapon: lunch. Not having brought the high chair to the shopping centre (I know, I know, school-boy error) I held her on my lap and N fed her. Cold goop from a jar - not the nicest. We got halfway through the jar and the starters arived, and of course they were far more interesting to her than her own lunch! Some minor rearranging of the table to remove all cutlery and salad from reach and we managed to finish her food. N ate his starter while I gave our daughter her bottle and then he burped her while I ate.
The waiters were excellent - although a little over-zealous when it came to plate clearing. Obviously our friends finished eating before us, and so the waiters were trying desperately to clear our plates, and then getting confused that we hadn't finished. They later told us that this was their second day open, which explained their keenness (and the fact that there seemed to be one waiter for every two diners!).
Once we'd finished feeding our daughter and our starters the rest of the meal passed without incident (apart from our daughter pulling cute faces at everyone sitting nearby that is). We were so proud - and so relieved!
Every little achievement like this feels like such a milestone, and allows N & me to think that we will possibly be able to have a social life again. We have our friends from York visiting this weekend and possibly next week, so it will be interesting to see how much difference there is between our daughter and their son who is 8 weeks younger. Of course, me being such a big soppy softy, I also feel slightly sad that she's growing up so much. But not enough to want to go back to the early days of no sleep and all that screaming!
_________________________
Sorry that I've not been posting so regularly - life has been getting in the way again! I have a couple of posts floating in my mind at the moment, so I will try and commit them to screen in the next week if possible.
31 October 2006
Geekdom
A non-baby related post for a change, but something else that I love. I love playing games. I'm not talking about hide-and-seek and the like, but the lovely shiny digital variety on games consoles.
I got into gaming at university. It was the N64 era, when GoldenEye (the game of the film) was out. A flatmate of mine played and I was hooked. Even better, he had Mario Kart and I ended up playing several times a week (or at least whenever I could get a look in). I loved it so much that I convinced myself that what I really needed was a reward for all my hard work after my finals (yeah, right) and I bought my very first console.
It was great - how realistic they looked back then! (How bad they look now!) As I moved into my postgraduate year, gaming became an even bigger part of my life as I owned my first PC and was able to add PC gaming to the N64. Interestingly, there were 6 of us living together in my 4th year and it was the 2 girls who owned the games consoles (not that you'd have known from the time the boys spent on them).
I left uni and went to work, but I still loved video games. I was always looking forward to the new releases, and was very excited about the next generation of consoles.
Around this time I met N, appropriately enough, online. We were both hugely un-confident in social situations, but the internet let us be honest with each other in a way we would never have dared in real life. When we met, gaming was one of the few things we actually had (and indeed, have) in common. I enjoyed being taken seriously when I talked about games, and N loved having a girlfriend who was quite happy for him to geek it up! (I think he still quite likes that, actually :-) )
Video games consoles have moved on yet again since I first started playing and I'm still hooked. We still own one of every console (going back as far as the Dreamcast and the NES for those who know/care) and I'm really excited about the release of the new consoles and interested how the HD/Blu-Ray battle will go.
Channel Five's "Gadget Show" had exclusive access to the PS3 and the Wii, and seeing the reviewer, Jason, get as excited over the consoles as I feel was fantastic. He's written a full review here (although as I type this the link is down).
I'm most looking forward to the Wii - I love the idea and the innovation and most of all the attitude behind its development. I also think that Sony are shooting themselves in the foot by a) delaying PS3 launch in Europe and then b) charging £400 a pop. £400?!! Who are they kidding?! That's without the games, extra controllers, and the rip-off downloadable content that they have created (you won't be able to play some games fully without buying extras from them).
Nonetheless, I still love my gaming. I could post forever on its pros and cons, why Microsoft have won me round and why I secretly love the frustration of a difficult jump or challenging puzzle; but I won't. That kind of disussion is best after a good dinner and most of the way through a nice bottle of red. I am however intensely relieved (as I know is N) that our daughter's arrival hasn't stopped our gaming - who knows, maybe she'll join in one day - and I hope that N & I manage to keep gaming together well into our old age!
I got into gaming at university. It was the N64 era, when GoldenEye (the game of the film) was out. A flatmate of mine played and I was hooked. Even better, he had Mario Kart and I ended up playing several times a week (or at least whenever I could get a look in). I loved it so much that I convinced myself that what I really needed was a reward for all my hard work after my finals (yeah, right) and I bought my very first console.
It was great - how realistic they looked back then! (How bad they look now!) As I moved into my postgraduate year, gaming became an even bigger part of my life as I owned my first PC and was able to add PC gaming to the N64. Interestingly, there were 6 of us living together in my 4th year and it was the 2 girls who owned the games consoles (not that you'd have known from the time the boys spent on them).
I left uni and went to work, but I still loved video games. I was always looking forward to the new releases, and was very excited about the next generation of consoles.
Around this time I met N, appropriately enough, online. We were both hugely un-confident in social situations, but the internet let us be honest with each other in a way we would never have dared in real life. When we met, gaming was one of the few things we actually had (and indeed, have) in common. I enjoyed being taken seriously when I talked about games, and N loved having a girlfriend who was quite happy for him to geek it up! (I think he still quite likes that, actually :-) )
Video games consoles have moved on yet again since I first started playing and I'm still hooked. We still own one of every console (going back as far as the Dreamcast and the NES for those who know/care) and I'm really excited about the release of the new consoles and interested how the HD/Blu-Ray battle will go.
Channel Five's "Gadget Show" had exclusive access to the PS3 and the Wii, and seeing the reviewer, Jason, get as excited over the consoles as I feel was fantastic. He's written a full review here (although as I type this the link is down).
I'm most looking forward to the Wii - I love the idea and the innovation and most of all the attitude behind its development. I also think that Sony are shooting themselves in the foot by a) delaying PS3 launch in Europe and then b) charging £400 a pop. £400?!! Who are they kidding?! That's without the games, extra controllers, and the rip-off downloadable content that they have created (you won't be able to play some games fully without buying extras from them).
Nonetheless, I still love my gaming. I could post forever on its pros and cons, why Microsoft have won me round and why I secretly love the frustration of a difficult jump or challenging puzzle; but I won't. That kind of disussion is best after a good dinner and most of the way through a nice bottle of red. I am however intensely relieved (as I know is N) that our daughter's arrival hasn't stopped our gaming - who knows, maybe she'll join in one day - and I hope that N & I manage to keep gaming together well into our old age!
29 October 2006
On my own! And coping.
N went back to work two weeks ago. I thought about posting sooner, but decided that it would be a bad idea and not a particularly balanced account!
I was, as previously mentioned, terrified about it for several reasons. The main reason was that I was worried (and still am to a certain degree) that it would trigger the return of my depression. Having lived with it for over 5 years and only recently returned to what passes as normality for me, I am not eager to go back.
Unfortunately the first week didn't do much to alleviate that worry. The days alternated between good and bad. Monday was ok, Tuesday was awful, Wednesday was ok, Thursday was awful and Friday was only ok because I handed over to my Mum in the afternoon so that I could go to choir practice.
Not only was the baby unsettled by the change in getting up time and going to bed time, she clearly missed her Daddy (which didn't help her Mummy who also missed him greatly)! Obviously that was one thing I couldn't fix for her and of course made me feel as though all the work I was putting in was sub-standard and pointless. I knew that this was the depression creeping back which bothered me even more.
At the start of last week, I said to N that I couldn't get up with him and take him to the station. I was so exhausted that the 6am start for a 6.30 station run was taking away the last reerves of energy that I had. I felt incredibly guilty, as it means that N's journey in the morning is over 2 hours long (he works in Chichester, around 60 miles away from where we live).
The difference last week was amazing. Our daughter slept until 7.45 most days (hurrah!) and had at least one long nap in the day. To make things better, N has been able to agree a slightly shorter lunch break, meaning he can get an earlier train home. He's now home over half an hour earlier, which makes a huge difference, and means we have been able to reinstate our daughter's evening routine (play, bath, bottle, bed) to it's original time, which in turn has settled her more readily and meant that we get a slightly longer evening and don't feel like we only have time to eat and sleep.
My next challenge from here is to find something interesting to do. Due to some kind of (administrative?) oversight, we weren't invited to a post-natal class, so I have no-one to talk to, visit etc during the day. We have some other friends that we were regularly visiting, but they have recently had their second baby, so are somewhat occupied at the moment! I know I really should take our daughter swimming, but it seems complicated - mainly to do with getting myself prepared to show legs and swimsuit-line (never bikini-line; I wouldn't want to scare anyone!) in public.
I have found one thing to do helping out a local organisation with some basic admin, but it's home-work, so I won't be getting out, which is a shame. I would love to be able to go for a walk, but we live on a main road (think 1/3 of a mile from motorways) which runs in a very steep valley, so there isn't anywhere suitable. Oh to be by the sea again!
Ah well, I guess there's always another trip round Tesco... :-)
I was, as previously mentioned, terrified about it for several reasons. The main reason was that I was worried (and still am to a certain degree) that it would trigger the return of my depression. Having lived with it for over 5 years and only recently returned to what passes as normality for me, I am not eager to go back.
Unfortunately the first week didn't do much to alleviate that worry. The days alternated between good and bad. Monday was ok, Tuesday was awful, Wednesday was ok, Thursday was awful and Friday was only ok because I handed over to my Mum in the afternoon so that I could go to choir practice.
Not only was the baby unsettled by the change in getting up time and going to bed time, she clearly missed her Daddy (which didn't help her Mummy who also missed him greatly)! Obviously that was one thing I couldn't fix for her and of course made me feel as though all the work I was putting in was sub-standard and pointless. I knew that this was the depression creeping back which bothered me even more.
At the start of last week, I said to N that I couldn't get up with him and take him to the station. I was so exhausted that the 6am start for a 6.30 station run was taking away the last reerves of energy that I had. I felt incredibly guilty, as it means that N's journey in the morning is over 2 hours long (he works in Chichester, around 60 miles away from where we live).
The difference last week was amazing. Our daughter slept until 7.45 most days (hurrah!) and had at least one long nap in the day. To make things better, N has been able to agree a slightly shorter lunch break, meaning he can get an earlier train home. He's now home over half an hour earlier, which makes a huge difference, and means we have been able to reinstate our daughter's evening routine (play, bath, bottle, bed) to it's original time, which in turn has settled her more readily and meant that we get a slightly longer evening and don't feel like we only have time to eat and sleep.
My next challenge from here is to find something interesting to do. Due to some kind of (administrative?) oversight, we weren't invited to a post-natal class, so I have no-one to talk to, visit etc during the day. We have some other friends that we were regularly visiting, but they have recently had their second baby, so are somewhat occupied at the moment! I know I really should take our daughter swimming, but it seems complicated - mainly to do with getting myself prepared to show legs and swimsuit-line (never bikini-line; I wouldn't want to scare anyone!) in public.
I have found one thing to do helping out a local organisation with some basic admin, but it's home-work, so I won't be getting out, which is a shame. I would love to be able to go for a walk, but we live on a main road (think 1/3 of a mile from motorways) which runs in a very steep valley, so there isn't anywhere suitable. Oh to be by the sea again!
Ah well, I guess there's always another trip round Tesco... :-)
25 October 2006
One year on
A couple of weeks ago, N & I celebrated our first wedding anniversary. We had a fantastic day - we dropped the baby off with her grandparents and then legged it into town for the matinee of Monty Python's Spamalot in the West End. We were originally going to see this on Broadway on our honeymoon, but as I was 10 weeks pregnant, I thought that the 7 hour flight to NY would be a bad idea, as I would either have had to be drugged to the eyeballs or I would be in full panic mode for the entire time!
After the show (which was EXCELLENT - if we can find an excuse/babysitter to see it again, we will) we went back to a local hotel; in fact the one we had our wedding reception in. As part of our wedding package, they gave us a free anniversary meal, so we stayed the night as well. This is no doubt the marketing ploy they are hoping for, but a night out is so rare, and last year we were (well, I was) too exhausted to enjoy being in a swanky suite.
The following morning we had a lie-in - we only got up at 8am! After a lovely breakfast, we opened our cards and presents in the hotel room and then went shopping without the baby. We went to pick her up in the late morning, stayed for lunch and then headed home mid-afternoon as the other grandparents were popping over. All in all, we had a fabulous weekend.
It was lovely; not only getting the "time off" to ourselves, but looking back over the year, remembering the fantastic wedding day we had and realising how lucky we are in our lives. After the huge changes that have happened to us, we are so aware of how much we value the support we have from our wonderful friends and family. And for two people who are incredibly shy and find new social situations very difficult, we have a great deal of people who care for us - we are truly rich in the only way that matters to us.
I know that this sounds wishy-washy, but I honestly believe that we can give our daughter no greater gift than the loving and supportive environment we live in.
After the show (which was EXCELLENT - if we can find an excuse/babysitter to see it again, we will) we went back to a local hotel; in fact the one we had our wedding reception in. As part of our wedding package, they gave us a free anniversary meal, so we stayed the night as well. This is no doubt the marketing ploy they are hoping for, but a night out is so rare, and last year we were (well, I was) too exhausted to enjoy being in a swanky suite.
The following morning we had a lie-in - we only got up at 8am! After a lovely breakfast, we opened our cards and presents in the hotel room and then went shopping without the baby. We went to pick her up in the late morning, stayed for lunch and then headed home mid-afternoon as the other grandparents were popping over. All in all, we had a fabulous weekend.
It was lovely; not only getting the "time off" to ourselves, but looking back over the year, remembering the fantastic wedding day we had and realising how lucky we are in our lives. After the huge changes that have happened to us, we are so aware of how much we value the support we have from our wonderful friends and family. And for two people who are incredibly shy and find new social situations very difficult, we have a great deal of people who care for us - we are truly rich in the only way that matters to us.
I know that this sounds wishy-washy, but I honestly believe that we can give our daughter no greater gift than the loving and supportive environment we live in.
1,000 and counting!
Six months ago today, at 11.47am to be precise, our daughter was born. Wow. I can’t believe it’s been so long, and at the same time, I can’t believe it’s only six months.
I have found it hard adjusting to being a mother. At the start, the night feeds would have me in tears as I fought the pain of her rough feeding technique and the exhaustion. I found it hard to bond with her, as the experience of giving birth was horrific for me – not the birth process itself, but the lack of communication and any kind of empathy shown by the midwives. One midwife on her final post-natal visit managed to reduce me to tears with her inconsiderate attitude. Dr Crippen's comments on “madwives” struck many chords with me.
I am frustrated by my daughter and infuriated at times. I do not cope well with not being able to reason with her, even though I know it is not the fault of either of us. My fear of not being ready for this has had a big impact, and I know I am not as patient as I could be.
But for every second of the tears, fears and sleeplessness I have had, the joy is multiplied one-thousand-fold. I adore her. Every look, every smile, the laughter and the chance to watch each new experience is more magical than I ever believed possible. Even as she struggles against her daytime naps (and how she fights to stay awake and experience more of the world, and NOW!) she makes me smile. The way she beams at me when I get her up in the morning, the giggles as I make aeroplanes with her food and the excited laugh and arms-held-aloft that greets her Daddy as he comes home make every second of the hard bits infinitely worth it.
All I have to do now is keep reminding myself of this when we decide to have another child! (Thinking of you Emily, hope all goes well) Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the title refers to the approximate number of dirty nappies we’ve changed in the last 6 months!
I have found it hard adjusting to being a mother. At the start, the night feeds would have me in tears as I fought the pain of her rough feeding technique and the exhaustion. I found it hard to bond with her, as the experience of giving birth was horrific for me – not the birth process itself, but the lack of communication and any kind of empathy shown by the midwives. One midwife on her final post-natal visit managed to reduce me to tears with her inconsiderate attitude. Dr Crippen's comments on “madwives” struck many chords with me.
I am frustrated by my daughter and infuriated at times. I do not cope well with not being able to reason with her, even though I know it is not the fault of either of us. My fear of not being ready for this has had a big impact, and I know I am not as patient as I could be.
But for every second of the tears, fears and sleeplessness I have had, the joy is multiplied one-thousand-fold. I adore her. Every look, every smile, the laughter and the chance to watch each new experience is more magical than I ever believed possible. Even as she struggles against her daytime naps (and how she fights to stay awake and experience more of the world, and NOW!) she makes me smile. The way she beams at me when I get her up in the morning, the giggles as I make aeroplanes with her food and the excited laugh and arms-held-aloft that greets her Daddy as he comes home make every second of the hard bits infinitely worth it.
All I have to do now is keep reminding myself of this when we decide to have another child! (Thinking of you Emily, hope all goes well) Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the title refers to the approximate number of dirty nappies we’ve changed in the last 6 months!
12 October 2006
Diplomatic Relations
The second big thing that happened last week was very unexpected. My dad came to visit.
Now I know that doesn't sound like a huge thing, but our relationship is... complex. My parents split up when I was about 13, but before that, my dad had been flitting in and out. He is an alcoholic, and was never stable, partly because of problems in his own childhood. I have memories of arguments and shouting, and I vividly remember praying that I fell asleep each night before my dad woke up to start shouting again otherwise I knew I'd be awake for hours trying to block out the sound. When my mum finally told my dad to leave I was really happy.
In the intervening years, my relationship with my dad deteriorated further. I couldn't forgive him for treating us the way he did, even if he did have other problems. I also found an old diary that my mum used to keep, and, being the nosy interfering child that I am, I read it. It really helped me, as it filled in gaps in my life that I wanted to know but could never ask, but I knew that I could never tell my mum about it as it was all about the unhappiest parts of their marriage.
My dad then disappeared off around the world, living out of my parents' joint bank account and running up debts on their joint assets - that my mum then had to pay back. It was a horrendously stressful time for my mum, and as the oldest child, I felt responsible for helping her through it. When my dad did get in touch, I didn't want to speak to him. Eventually, one day when I was about 15 or 16, he rang when there was no-one else in, and (in my memory at least) calmly and as dispassionately as I could I told him how I felt about him. It was horrendous, and made us both cry (can you imagine how I felt at 16 making my father cry). Since then, we've never really spoken. Most recently I saw him at my sister's 21st and at her graduation (she still has a good relationship with him), but that was over 3 years ago.
When I found out I was pregnant I dithered about whether to tell him, and if so, how. My instincts were always that he would be my child's grandfather and therefore had a right to know - even if we had no relationship, my child had a right to his/her grandparent. My reservation was down to the fact that he had remarried (a lovely lady, no problems there) and I knew that this was the kind of thing that could cause him to wobble and disappear from the scene.
In the end, I rang him and told him. It was a weird conversation, a bit out of the blue about 2 weeks before our wedding (to which he wasn't invited). He asked about visiting us, and I said of course he could, but then didn't hear from him again. When our daughter was born, I rang and told him. He sounded so emotional on the phone, and asked if he could see her. I said that of course he could, because he's her family. But again, we didn't hear from him, and I also found out that he left his wife briefly and started implying to my sister that he missed our mum and wanted to get back together with her (raising my sister's hopes, even after all this time).
I began to get annoyed - I have no issue with our relationship, but messing my daughter around is another thing altogether. I fumed about it, and in the end, about 2 weeks ago I sent him and his wife a polite, chatty letter with a couple of photos. In the letter I said that I hadn't been in touch as I didn't want to offend or upset them, but here were some pictures and a little news. To my huge surprise, about 3 days later he called me and after a quick chat asked what we were doing at the weekend, and arranged to visit!
I spent the next couple of days being surprised and a little excited - after everything, he's still my dad and I know I've always loved him even when I've disliked him more than I can describe, and I'd given up on ever knowing him again. On the other hand, I was aware that this could be an unmitigated disaster and I knew that I had to be prepared. My main goal was to enable my daughter to see all of her grandparents as she grows up.
On Saturday, N & I cleaned the house, while trying not too look like we were too bothered (I don't know who we were trying to kid). N is very tidy, unlike me, and as he's never really met my dad, I know he was a lot more nervous than he was letting on.
Just before 2 they arrived, just as our daughter decided she needed a nap. So we sat down, and the four of us chatted. It was strange, as though there was no history, but nice. An hour later, our daughter got up, and we introduced them. As ever, she had the effect that she seems to have on everyone she meets; she watched them intently with her huge blue eyes and then after a few minutes decided that they were trustworthy and gave them the biggest grin she could. Of course, they were completely won over, and we spent the next hour talking about babies, including what I was like, which was very funny. Everyone seemed to get along, and although I can't speak for anyone else, it seemed very relaxed.
All of a sudden it was 4pm, and they had to go for the 2 hour drive back to Oxfordshire, and I spent the rest of the weekend wondering if they had actually been, it had been so surreal. I haven't dared let myself be happy about it - I really really hope that something comes of it, and that we manage to stay in touch, but until it happens, I'm just glad that they finally met our daughter and sad that they missed so much fun in her earliest days.
Now I know that doesn't sound like a huge thing, but our relationship is... complex. My parents split up when I was about 13, but before that, my dad had been flitting in and out. He is an alcoholic, and was never stable, partly because of problems in his own childhood. I have memories of arguments and shouting, and I vividly remember praying that I fell asleep each night before my dad woke up to start shouting again otherwise I knew I'd be awake for hours trying to block out the sound. When my mum finally told my dad to leave I was really happy.
In the intervening years, my relationship with my dad deteriorated further. I couldn't forgive him for treating us the way he did, even if he did have other problems. I also found an old diary that my mum used to keep, and, being the nosy interfering child that I am, I read it. It really helped me, as it filled in gaps in my life that I wanted to know but could never ask, but I knew that I could never tell my mum about it as it was all about the unhappiest parts of their marriage.
My dad then disappeared off around the world, living out of my parents' joint bank account and running up debts on their joint assets - that my mum then had to pay back. It was a horrendously stressful time for my mum, and as the oldest child, I felt responsible for helping her through it. When my dad did get in touch, I didn't want to speak to him. Eventually, one day when I was about 15 or 16, he rang when there was no-one else in, and (in my memory at least) calmly and as dispassionately as I could I told him how I felt about him. It was horrendous, and made us both cry (can you imagine how I felt at 16 making my father cry). Since then, we've never really spoken. Most recently I saw him at my sister's 21st and at her graduation (she still has a good relationship with him), but that was over 3 years ago.
When I found out I was pregnant I dithered about whether to tell him, and if so, how. My instincts were always that he would be my child's grandfather and therefore had a right to know - even if we had no relationship, my child had a right to his/her grandparent. My reservation was down to the fact that he had remarried (a lovely lady, no problems there) and I knew that this was the kind of thing that could cause him to wobble and disappear from the scene.
In the end, I rang him and told him. It was a weird conversation, a bit out of the blue about 2 weeks before our wedding (to which he wasn't invited). He asked about visiting us, and I said of course he could, but then didn't hear from him again. When our daughter was born, I rang and told him. He sounded so emotional on the phone, and asked if he could see her. I said that of course he could, because he's her family. But again, we didn't hear from him, and I also found out that he left his wife briefly and started implying to my sister that he missed our mum and wanted to get back together with her (raising my sister's hopes, even after all this time).
I began to get annoyed - I have no issue with our relationship, but messing my daughter around is another thing altogether. I fumed about it, and in the end, about 2 weeks ago I sent him and his wife a polite, chatty letter with a couple of photos. In the letter I said that I hadn't been in touch as I didn't want to offend or upset them, but here were some pictures and a little news. To my huge surprise, about 3 days later he called me and after a quick chat asked what we were doing at the weekend, and arranged to visit!
I spent the next couple of days being surprised and a little excited - after everything, he's still my dad and I know I've always loved him even when I've disliked him more than I can describe, and I'd given up on ever knowing him again. On the other hand, I was aware that this could be an unmitigated disaster and I knew that I had to be prepared. My main goal was to enable my daughter to see all of her grandparents as she grows up.
On Saturday, N & I cleaned the house, while trying not too look like we were too bothered (I don't know who we were trying to kid). N is very tidy, unlike me, and as he's never really met my dad, I know he was a lot more nervous than he was letting on.
Just before 2 they arrived, just as our daughter decided she needed a nap. So we sat down, and the four of us chatted. It was strange, as though there was no history, but nice. An hour later, our daughter got up, and we introduced them. As ever, she had the effect that she seems to have on everyone she meets; she watched them intently with her huge blue eyes and then after a few minutes decided that they were trustworthy and gave them the biggest grin she could. Of course, they were completely won over, and we spent the next hour talking about babies, including what I was like, which was very funny. Everyone seemed to get along, and although I can't speak for anyone else, it seemed very relaxed.
All of a sudden it was 4pm, and they had to go for the 2 hour drive back to Oxfordshire, and I spent the rest of the weekend wondering if they had actually been, it had been so surreal. I haven't dared let myself be happy about it - I really really hope that something comes of it, and that we manage to stay in touch, but until it happens, I'm just glad that they finally met our daughter and sad that they missed so much fun in her earliest days.
London Calling
Last week was a really big week for me personally, as two big things happened. I'm not going to post about them both in one post as they're so different, so you'll have to wait for the other one!
The first big thing was that I went back to my choir. I've always sung in a choir, ever since I was eight, and it's a huge part of my life. I started in our church choir, then with the Royal School of Church Music who run cathedral choirs, and then local choral societies as I got older.
In 2004 I joined the BBC Symphony Chorus, and I absolutely love it. I get to sing a really wide repertoire with some amazing orchestras and conductors and best of all, we're one of the main choirs for the Proms! The BBCSC provides the choir that sings on the first and last nights in the Albert Hall, so I have sung on stage at the Last Night of the Proms - I never thought I'd be able to say that! (They also provide singers for the Blue Peter Christmas show - so I've done that too - how cool will it be when my daughter is old enough to watch?)
I had decided to miss some time before our wedding, so didn't do the 2005 Proms, and then when I found out I was pregnant I realised that I was going to be far too tired to commit to the 3 nights a week (plus concerts) I would need to do, so I missed all of the 2005/06 season as well. Last week, the new season started, so I went back for the first time in almost a year.
I was really nervous about going, as I realised that I had not been out of my comfort zone of friends and family for over six months. It was quite scary to realie how easy it is to fall into the habit of not going out and not making any effort. I knew that if I didn't go, I'd never get back, and so I forced myself out of the door.
Once I'd made it, bought my ticket and got on the train, I suddenly realised just how much I missed it. I've always enjoyed working in London, and am one of those weird people who doesn't mind the commute (I leave enough time to travel in rush hour without having to push or shove anywhere). When I finally arrived in Victoria Station I actually felt relieved to be back - not the normal reaction to the hustle and bustle, I know!
Being back singing was fantastic - apart from seeing other normal people again, just getting the workout was great. It's amazing how having a baby teaches you about support and all the muscles you need to use when you're singing; I guess knowing where my pelvic floor is helps too!
I just hope I can carry on. N goes back to work next week, and as it stands he won't be home by the time I need to leave to get there. My mum has offered her partner's services (not sure if he knows though) so hopefully we can work something out. I miss not seeing my daughter's bed time as it's my favourite part of the day, but I know I'm a much better mother to her when I feel that I have a life that isn't all about her.
The first big thing was that I went back to my choir. I've always sung in a choir, ever since I was eight, and it's a huge part of my life. I started in our church choir, then with the Royal School of Church Music who run cathedral choirs, and then local choral societies as I got older.
In 2004 I joined the BBC Symphony Chorus, and I absolutely love it. I get to sing a really wide repertoire with some amazing orchestras and conductors and best of all, we're one of the main choirs for the Proms! The BBCSC provides the choir that sings on the first and last nights in the Albert Hall, so I have sung on stage at the Last Night of the Proms - I never thought I'd be able to say that! (They also provide singers for the Blue Peter Christmas show - so I've done that too - how cool will it be when my daughter is old enough to watch?)
I had decided to miss some time before our wedding, so didn't do the 2005 Proms, and then when I found out I was pregnant I realised that I was going to be far too tired to commit to the 3 nights a week (plus concerts) I would need to do, so I missed all of the 2005/06 season as well. Last week, the new season started, so I went back for the first time in almost a year.
I was really nervous about going, as I realised that I had not been out of my comfort zone of friends and family for over six months. It was quite scary to realie how easy it is to fall into the habit of not going out and not making any effort. I knew that if I didn't go, I'd never get back, and so I forced myself out of the door.
Once I'd made it, bought my ticket and got on the train, I suddenly realised just how much I missed it. I've always enjoyed working in London, and am one of those weird people who doesn't mind the commute (I leave enough time to travel in rush hour without having to push or shove anywhere). When I finally arrived in Victoria Station I actually felt relieved to be back - not the normal reaction to the hustle and bustle, I know!
Being back singing was fantastic - apart from seeing other normal people again, just getting the workout was great. It's amazing how having a baby teaches you about support and all the muscles you need to use when you're singing; I guess knowing where my pelvic floor is helps too!
I just hope I can carry on. N goes back to work next week, and as it stands he won't be home by the time I need to leave to get there. My mum has offered her partner's services (not sure if he knows though) so hopefully we can work something out. I miss not seeing my daughter's bed time as it's my favourite part of the day, but I know I'm a much better mother to her when I feel that I have a life that isn't all about her.
25 September 2006
Out and about
On Saturday, my mum took me and my daughter down to visit my sister in Reading. It was an absolutely fabulous day of "doing lunch" and shopping. None of us are particularly girly, but it was lovely for the three of us to get out and gossip like we used to when my sister and I both lived at home.
It was great for us to have some "fun" time - and for my mum to relax a bit - as things with my grandparents have not been great. My grandfather has had a pacemaker fitted - which is good, as he now seems to be incredibly well, but he only had it fitted because he collapsed at home, which was scary. My grandmother has had a fit (we feared that it may be another stroke) and is even more confused than before. It is hard work for my mum and aunt looking after them on top of it being very upsetting to see my once fiercely independent gran reduced to needing help with washing, dressing, using the toilet and so on. However, things there seem to be stabilising for now, so we all keep our fingers crossed and pray daily for small miracles on their behalf.
It was also incredibly liberating for me to be able to go out with my daughter for a whole day without having to dash back home to feed her. Although I ended up giving her her lunch on a bench outside M&S, we were still able to be out for the best part of 5 hours without too many problems. Suddenly I can see me getting out a lot more once N goes back to work.
Sadly for me, N will be back at work in 3 weeks. I'm really going to miss him. It's great that he's got himself a job, and I know he'll really enjoy his job there, but I have absolutely loved the last 6 months of the two of us being at home together with our daughter, and I'm really sad to be giving that up.
It's only because we were both made redundant before our daughter was born (me voluntarily, N compulsorily) that we could afford to be at home together, but I am so glad that we could. Apart from the fact that N has kept me sane and we have helped each other through the difficult patches, it has given us a chance to spend the quality time together that I thought we would have lost due to the unexpected pregnancy. We had originally planned to be married for a year before starting a family (but our daughter had other ideas!) and one of my biggest fears was that we would lose part of our relationship because we didn't have the year to enjoy being married that we had planned to have. Having this time off though, N and I are now closer than ever and I'm suddenly very conscious of just how much we have going for us.
I'm aware that we're extremely lucky to have even been able to have this time, and that it will be good for us to get back to what will be long-term normality, but it is going to be a major change and I will miss it, and N, hugely.
It was great for us to have some "fun" time - and for my mum to relax a bit - as things with my grandparents have not been great. My grandfather has had a pacemaker fitted - which is good, as he now seems to be incredibly well, but he only had it fitted because he collapsed at home, which was scary. My grandmother has had a fit (we feared that it may be another stroke) and is even more confused than before. It is hard work for my mum and aunt looking after them on top of it being very upsetting to see my once fiercely independent gran reduced to needing help with washing, dressing, using the toilet and so on. However, things there seem to be stabilising for now, so we all keep our fingers crossed and pray daily for small miracles on their behalf.
It was also incredibly liberating for me to be able to go out with my daughter for a whole day without having to dash back home to feed her. Although I ended up giving her her lunch on a bench outside M&S, we were still able to be out for the best part of 5 hours without too many problems. Suddenly I can see me getting out a lot more once N goes back to work.
Sadly for me, N will be back at work in 3 weeks. I'm really going to miss him. It's great that he's got himself a job, and I know he'll really enjoy his job there, but I have absolutely loved the last 6 months of the two of us being at home together with our daughter, and I'm really sad to be giving that up.
It's only because we were both made redundant before our daughter was born (me voluntarily, N compulsorily) that we could afford to be at home together, but I am so glad that we could. Apart from the fact that N has kept me sane and we have helped each other through the difficult patches, it has given us a chance to spend the quality time together that I thought we would have lost due to the unexpected pregnancy. We had originally planned to be married for a year before starting a family (but our daughter had other ideas!) and one of my biggest fears was that we would lose part of our relationship because we didn't have the year to enjoy being married that we had planned to have. Having this time off though, N and I are now closer than ever and I'm suddenly very conscious of just how much we have going for us.
I'm aware that we're extremely lucky to have even been able to have this time, and that it will be good for us to get back to what will be long-term normality, but it is going to be a major change and I will miss it, and N, hugely.
12 September 2006
Feeling Icky
I've not been feeling 100% over the last week. On Wednesday I started to feel a bit bunged up and fluey, and my armpit felt like someone had been snapping elastic bands in it. I ignored it for most of the morning, but as I began to feel worse towards lunchtime, I thought I'd better make an appointment with the doctor.
I remembered reading about mastitis when I was pregnant, and it sounded like that was a possibility, as my daughter has just started reducing her feeds as she takes more solids. If it was mastitis, then I knew I needed to make sure that I tried to clear any blocked ducts. The advice given in all the NHS booklets is along the lines of "keep feeding your child, whilst gently massaging". Easier said than done.
To be on the safe side, I carried on feeding my daughter from the sore side (not amusing, I can assure you - imagine having a very large, very painful bruise, and at regular intervals someone tugs on it, whilst you prod it in every other direction). It felt a little better, so I hoped that maybe I'd caught it soon enough, but when I woke the next morning I felt absolutely dreadful. I felt as though I had a full-on case of flu. I have not felt so ill since I had glandular fever at university. Never have I been so grateful for N still being at home as I was in no state to look after our daughter.
N took me up to the doctors, where he confirmed that I did indeed have mastitis, and prescribed a course of antibiotics to help the infection. We went straight to the pharmacist to fill the prescription and I've essentially been sleeping since. I still can't believe how exhausted I am; I've got a young baby for goodness sake, you think I'd be used to being tired. At the moment though, I just can't do more than a couple of hours before being shattered and needing another sleep.
What I was really shocked about (perhaps naively) was the huge list of contraindications on the antibiotics. Aside from the fact that these things look like horse pills, there are horrific side effects that I may not notice until "several weeks after the course of medication is complete" and that it is possible to pass some of these side effects on to my daughter as I'm still breastfeeding. I'm assuming that these are suitable tablets as I talked to the doctor about breastfeeding, but it does seem slightly contrary to common sense that the medication for an illness commonly found in breastfeeding mothers is potentially harmful to a young baby being breastfed. Luckily our daughter seems to be ok so far (touch wood) so that's ok.
The other problem is that my eating and sleeping is now heavily regimented. These tablets are so strong they have to be spaced evenly apart (where other tablets say "you should try to take them spaced evenly" these say "you MUST take them at regular intervals") and I can't eat for 2 hours before or 1 hour after each tablet. This means that I can only eat in 3 hour slots, and by the time we've put our daughter to bed and had dinner it's so close to the next tablet that it's not worth me going to bed, only to get up to take a tablet, so I've ended up staying up until midnight, when all I've wanted to do is to crawl into bed as soon as possible.
Luckily N has been an absolute star. He has been entertaining our daughter, taking her out and about so that I can sleep, and generally looking after me in the best possible way. I'm very lucky to have him, and even luckier that we've both been in the position to be at home for the first 5 months of our daughter's life.
___________
In other illness-related news, my grandfather has had another funny turn and is back in hospital, this time needing a pacemaker. Although it probably seems a little callous of me to just mention this as an addendum, it is not really a major thing; firstly because the operation is simple; secondly because it will improve his quality of life onehundredfold; and thirdly because everyone is so un-bothered by it that my mum told me of his latest wobble via email. Not exactly rushing the news through!
I remembered reading about mastitis when I was pregnant, and it sounded like that was a possibility, as my daughter has just started reducing her feeds as she takes more solids. If it was mastitis, then I knew I needed to make sure that I tried to clear any blocked ducts. The advice given in all the NHS booklets is along the lines of "keep feeding your child, whilst gently massaging". Easier said than done.
To be on the safe side, I carried on feeding my daughter from the sore side (not amusing, I can assure you - imagine having a very large, very painful bruise, and at regular intervals someone tugs on it, whilst you prod it in every other direction). It felt a little better, so I hoped that maybe I'd caught it soon enough, but when I woke the next morning I felt absolutely dreadful. I felt as though I had a full-on case of flu. I have not felt so ill since I had glandular fever at university. Never have I been so grateful for N still being at home as I was in no state to look after our daughter.
N took me up to the doctors, where he confirmed that I did indeed have mastitis, and prescribed a course of antibiotics to help the infection. We went straight to the pharmacist to fill the prescription and I've essentially been sleeping since. I still can't believe how exhausted I am; I've got a young baby for goodness sake, you think I'd be used to being tired. At the moment though, I just can't do more than a couple of hours before being shattered and needing another sleep.
What I was really shocked about (perhaps naively) was the huge list of contraindications on the antibiotics. Aside from the fact that these things look like horse pills, there are horrific side effects that I may not notice until "several weeks after the course of medication is complete" and that it is possible to pass some of these side effects on to my daughter as I'm still breastfeeding. I'm assuming that these are suitable tablets as I talked to the doctor about breastfeeding, but it does seem slightly contrary to common sense that the medication for an illness commonly found in breastfeeding mothers is potentially harmful to a young baby being breastfed. Luckily our daughter seems to be ok so far (touch wood) so that's ok.
The other problem is that my eating and sleeping is now heavily regimented. These tablets are so strong they have to be spaced evenly apart (where other tablets say "you should try to take them spaced evenly" these say "you MUST take them at regular intervals") and I can't eat for 2 hours before or 1 hour after each tablet. This means that I can only eat in 3 hour slots, and by the time we've put our daughter to bed and had dinner it's so close to the next tablet that it's not worth me going to bed, only to get up to take a tablet, so I've ended up staying up until midnight, when all I've wanted to do is to crawl into bed as soon as possible.
Luckily N has been an absolute star. He has been entertaining our daughter, taking her out and about so that I can sleep, and generally looking after me in the best possible way. I'm very lucky to have him, and even luckier that we've both been in the position to be at home for the first 5 months of our daughter's life.
___________
In other illness-related news, my grandfather has had another funny turn and is back in hospital, this time needing a pacemaker. Although it probably seems a little callous of me to just mention this as an addendum, it is not really a major thing; firstly because the operation is simple; secondly because it will improve his quality of life onehundredfold; and thirdly because everyone is so un-bothered by it that my mum told me of his latest wobble via email. Not exactly rushing the news through!
04 September 2006
A Basic Glossary
While writing my last post, I mentioned one of my daughter's favourite toys and it made me realise just how much of N & my terminology is quite possibly meaningless for those outside our family and friends circle.
In order that I don't have to post huge explanations each time, I thought I'd write a glossary, and I can update it each time I think of a new family word or phrase. Here are a few to be getting along with:
Blart:
Baby sick. Would be used in a sentence such as "Oh no, she's just blarted all over the sofa"
Blart Rag:
Cloth or tissue used to mop up blart (varies, depending on proximity to offending blart patch). Would be used in sentence such as "Ewww, it's all over me - pass a blart rag, will you?"
Heffalump:
A much-beloved red, green, blue and yellow creature that rattles, squeaks and has two interesting bell noises in it and has a trunk that is perfect for stuffing in one's mouth.
Keys:
A handily-grabbable item with 3 strange interpretations of animals. Designed to be both a rattle and a teething ring, this item's most frequent use is to inflict bruises on any nearby skin (including child's own).
Kicky Chair:
A reclining baby bouncer/rocker that has footpads that can be kicked, thus setting off a variety of lights and tunes. Also comes with 'calming vibrations' option that can rattle the eyeballs out of the skull of a newborn. Would be used in a sentence such as "Oh God, the kicky chair's going out of tune - whatever you do, buy more batteries!"
Naked Baby Song:
The tune that is sung to signal the arrival of the bedtime routine, which begins with aforementioned baby being completely stripped for bathing.
Snail:
Favourite book, in which we follow the thrilling tale of Stan the snail looking for his friend Sam. As we follow the trail through the garden, we encounter fabulous scenery, especially the scrunchy leaves that are perfect for grabbing and stuffing into the mouth. Companion publications include "Hen", "Frog", "Fish" and "Mouse".
Spinny Thing:
Ceiling fan in bedroom that is completely fascinating to small babies. Would be used in a sentence such as "Don't cry sweetie - oh look, is that your spinny thing up there? Ooh, look at that!"
I do hope that this weird alternative language isn't going to have too many long term negative implications for our daughter - we can't be the only ones doing this... can we?
In order that I don't have to post huge explanations each time, I thought I'd write a glossary, and I can update it each time I think of a new family word or phrase. Here are a few to be getting along with:
Blart:
Baby sick. Would be used in a sentence such as "Oh no, she's just blarted all over the sofa"
Blart Rag:
Cloth or tissue used to mop up blart (varies, depending on proximity to offending blart patch). Would be used in sentence such as "Ewww, it's all over me - pass a blart rag, will you?"
Heffalump:
A much-beloved red, green, blue and yellow creature that rattles, squeaks and has two interesting bell noises in it and has a trunk that is perfect for stuffing in one's mouth.
Keys:
A handily-grabbable item with 3 strange interpretations of animals. Designed to be both a rattle and a teething ring, this item's most frequent use is to inflict bruises on any nearby skin (including child's own).
Kicky Chair:
A reclining baby bouncer/rocker that has footpads that can be kicked, thus setting off a variety of lights and tunes. Also comes with 'calming vibrations' option that can rattle the eyeballs out of the skull of a newborn. Would be used in a sentence such as "Oh God, the kicky chair's going out of tune - whatever you do, buy more batteries!"
Naked Baby Song:
The tune that is sung to signal the arrival of the bedtime routine, which begins with aforementioned baby being completely stripped for bathing.
Snail:
Favourite book, in which we follow the thrilling tale of Stan the snail looking for his friend Sam. As we follow the trail through the garden, we encounter fabulous scenery, especially the scrunchy leaves that are perfect for grabbing and stuffing into the mouth. Companion publications include "Hen", "Frog", "Fish" and "Mouse".
Spinny Thing:
Ceiling fan in bedroom that is completely fascinating to small babies. Would be used in a sentence such as "Don't cry sweetie - oh look, is that your spinny thing up there? Ooh, look at that!"
I do hope that this weird alternative language isn't going to have too many long term negative implications for our daughter - we can't be the only ones doing this... can we?
03 September 2006
Feeding Frenzy!
Our daughter started on solids just over a week ago. She went to see the health visitor at the clinic, and I explained how feeding times had deteriorated into a tug of war - she was NOT interested in feeding, it was boring, and she wanted to be doing something else thank you very much! Also, everytime N or I sat down to eat, all activity would cease, and she would stare at us with rapt attention. Never has such a shouty baby been so silent!
I had planned to breastfeed for at least 6 months, but apparently my daughter had other ideas! The health visitor recommend we start with baby rice at lunchtimes and then gradually build the meals up from there. Now, I had never heard of baby rice (clearly I am already a failed parent) so got some from the shop - well, actually, I added it to the next home delivery; let them search the aisles for it!
So we were armed with baby rice, and managed to find some bibs, a suitable container and a soft spoon. We were all set.
Then we hit hurdle one. No high-chair. As we hadn't planned to start solids for at least another 2 months, we hadn't worked out which set of grandparents was going tocough up help with the chair. No problems - we had 2 options. A weird bath seat thing which our daughter can't really sit in as she can't sit up yet, or her beloved kicky chair (like a baby bouncer, but interactive), without the bit that has the light and sound show. We opted for the former, as it has higher sides and is a lot easier to wipe clean.
Then came hurdle two. How the hell do you make up the baby rice? I mean really, I have no idea! The health visitor had said one thing, the box another, but neither actually gave me a useful comparative measure, such as "mix until the consistency of runny porridge" or "until there are no lumps at all" or whatever. So I mixed it up until N & I thought it looked ok and we went for the first feed.
There I was, baby rice at the ready. The look on our daughter's face was priceless - we even managed to capture it on photo (yes, we are already planning her humiliation when she brings her first boy/girlfriend home to meet us - is that wrong?). She looked at us as if to say "What on earth is THAT?" swiftly followed by "OK, I'll try it, but I'm not making any promises".
Her first meal was, how shall I put this, not successful. Apart from the fact that she had to get used to the fact that this food wasn't all runny, and she had to keep waiting for it while Mummy refilled the spoon, it tasted horrible and she let us know about it! Now I know why I had never heard of baby rice. It's like eating soggy cardboard but with none of the excitement. She ate about 3 teaspooonsful and then refused to eat any more.
We knew we had to persevere however, and so the next day we tried again. This time we used the adapted kicky chair as we could strap her in more securely so she couldn't fling herself out (probably trying to escape the vile rice). I mixed the rice, this time with formula milk to see if that was better, and we tried again.
Well, if anything, this was worse. She knew what was coming, and wasn't having a bit of it. Each spoonful started out with huge promise, and each one let her down, by still being filled with that yucky gunk. We gave up the baby rice for that day, but just out of curiosity I decided to try a jar of mushed veg baby food that I had in preparation in the cupboard (no, I haven't mashed my own - obviously I am aware this will contribute to her delinquency later in life).
The difference in the reactions had to be seen to be believed! She shovelled that orange goo down her throat like it was nectar from the gods. It was almost as if she was saying "Finally! I knew that this eating thing was more fun than that!" So we abandoned the baby rice and have moved to varying selections of vegetables - not least the more *ahem* interesting jars brought back from France by my mother (she's doing the nappies after the pulverised artichoke - I kid you not).
10 days on, and she's happily on 2 meals a day, and she hardly even covers herself in the stuff anymore. Mainly, I think, because that would be a waste of good food and if she's anything like N or me she'll be able to eat for Britain. The really fun bit is when she tries to help with the spoon and sticks her own fingers in goop, and in her mouth, and then, in a devastatingly cute display of affection blows parsnip-flavoured raspberries at us. Damn, that kid is gorgeous!
I had planned to breastfeed for at least 6 months, but apparently my daughter had other ideas! The health visitor recommend we start with baby rice at lunchtimes and then gradually build the meals up from there. Now, I had never heard of baby rice (clearly I am already a failed parent) so got some from the shop - well, actually, I added it to the next home delivery; let them search the aisles for it!
So we were armed with baby rice, and managed to find some bibs, a suitable container and a soft spoon. We were all set.
Then we hit hurdle one. No high-chair. As we hadn't planned to start solids for at least another 2 months, we hadn't worked out which set of grandparents was going to
Then came hurdle two. How the hell do you make up the baby rice? I mean really, I have no idea! The health visitor had said one thing, the box another, but neither actually gave me a useful comparative measure, such as "mix until the consistency of runny porridge" or "until there are no lumps at all" or whatever. So I mixed it up until N & I thought it looked ok and we went for the first feed.
There I was, baby rice at the ready. The look on our daughter's face was priceless - we even managed to capture it on photo (yes, we are already planning her humiliation when she brings her first boy/girlfriend home to meet us - is that wrong?). She looked at us as if to say "What on earth is THAT?" swiftly followed by "OK, I'll try it, but I'm not making any promises".
Her first meal was, how shall I put this, not successful. Apart from the fact that she had to get used to the fact that this food wasn't all runny, and she had to keep waiting for it while Mummy refilled the spoon, it tasted horrible and she let us know about it! Now I know why I had never heard of baby rice. It's like eating soggy cardboard but with none of the excitement. She ate about 3 teaspooonsful and then refused to eat any more.
We knew we had to persevere however, and so the next day we tried again. This time we used the adapted kicky chair as we could strap her in more securely so she couldn't fling herself out (probably trying to escape the vile rice). I mixed the rice, this time with formula milk to see if that was better, and we tried again.
Well, if anything, this was worse. She knew what was coming, and wasn't having a bit of it. Each spoonful started out with huge promise, and each one let her down, by still being filled with that yucky gunk. We gave up the baby rice for that day, but just out of curiosity I decided to try a jar of mushed veg baby food that I had in preparation in the cupboard (no, I haven't mashed my own - obviously I am aware this will contribute to her delinquency later in life).
The difference in the reactions had to be seen to be believed! She shovelled that orange goo down her throat like it was nectar from the gods. It was almost as if she was saying "Finally! I knew that this eating thing was more fun than that!" So we abandoned the baby rice and have moved to varying selections of vegetables - not least the more *ahem* interesting jars brought back from France by my mother (she's doing the nappies after the pulverised artichoke - I kid you not).
10 days on, and she's happily on 2 meals a day, and she hardly even covers herself in the stuff anymore. Mainly, I think, because that would be a waste of good food and if she's anything like N or me she'll be able to eat for Britain. The really fun bit is when she tries to help with the spoon and sticks her own fingers in goop, and in her mouth, and then, in a devastatingly cute display of affection blows parsnip-flavoured raspberries at us. Damn, that kid is gorgeous!
30 August 2006
Stressful celebrations
Today my grandfather turned 85. This is a huge achievement, not least considering he had a major coronary at the age of 40 and was told he had only months left. I'm very glad that that wasn't true - he has been a major influence in my life and is an incredible person. Both my grandparents have had a huge positive impact on me; they form the foundation of many happy childhood memories of Christmases, storytelling and playing games in the garden to name but a few. Unfortunately things are very difficult for them at the moment.
On top of my grandmother's stroke two months ago, my grandfather has recently been admitted to hospital after getting up too quickly and passing out. It turns out that the angina he has been treated for all these years is non-existent; instead, he has very low blood pressure. He came home from hospital and suddenly looks about 5 years younger. On the flip side, he is not coping well with my grandmother's dementia following her stroke. She does make a kind of sense, as long as you can work out where she thinks she is, and what time frame she's in. Otherwise, it is nonsense. My grandfather however can't keep up with this (or doesn't want to accept it - I'm not sure which) and so assumes that everything she says is fact.
As my whole family were visiting them for lunch, we generally had a very nice time, although the fact that my aunt prepared lunch further convinced my grandmother that she's not at home, as she didn't know what we were going to eat. We all ate together, and then my grandparents went for a nap, as did my daughter. When my daughter woke up, she cried as usual. She was quickly ushered into the garden, but my grandmother must have heard her, because when she got up, she kept asking what my daughter had eaten to make her sick, and was convinced that she must have eaten something and that she was ill. Eventually she decided that my daughter had eaten some blackberries from the garden and that they must have been mouldy. Nothing we said could convince her that my daughter was fine; every time it was explained to her, I could see she didn't believe us, as she couldn't understand why else my daughter would have cried.
I love the way my grandmother comes to life when my daughter is around, and the fact that she obviously cares so much for her, but I hate the fact that she worries about her so much that she gets distressed. My mother fell out of a window when she was about 9 months old, and my grandmother is reminded of that every time she sees my daughter and it upsets her - not just the memory of my mother but also the thought that my daughter could be hurt.
It's also very hard for me to watch the way my mum, aunt and sister are dealing with my grandparents' illness. My sister hasn't seen my grandparents since the stroke until today - she can't deal with the thought of them being ill, so has been understandably reluctanct to make the long journey from where she now lives to see them. My mum and aunt both react very differently. My aunt copes by fussing - she wants to do everything for my grandmother and gets in a flap when anything goes wrong. I understand she is anxious (who wouldn't be anxious about their parents) but the extent of her worry frustrates me. My mum on the other hand is very practical and down to earth, to the point of brusqueness. She loves her parents very much, but feels that she has to remain calm and collected, especially as my aunt doesn't. I can see her and my grandmother getting frustrated with each other, and it worries me that they forget that they do actually love each other very much. I can also see my mum getting annoyed at my grandfather's unwillingness or inability to deal with this huge change in their life and it is breaking her relationship with him. This upsets me the most, as she's always been very close to him.
My aunt and my mum have been caring for my grandparents for two months now and they are both exhausted. They have both had holidays but as soon as they are back they are exhausted again, and they are taking more time off work than they can afford. I am caught between being annoyed that they won't rely more on me and my husband as we live 10 minutes away (as opposed to over an hour away for both my mum and my aunt) and relieved that I don't have to care for my grandparents. This in turn makes me feel guilty for not wanting to look after my grandparents - they have given me so much - but I am embarrassed for them and upset to see them unable to care for themselves fully. They have so long been the head of our family and have been there for all of us and now that the positions are reversing they feel inadequate and helpless and ashamed to need our help. So while I want to help them as much as I can, I know that it is even worse for them to be reliant on their grandchildren than it is their children.
There is no simple solution - all I can do is muddle through and hope that my decisions make their lives a little better, so I can feel that I have at least begun to repay them for all they have done for me.
On top of my grandmother's stroke two months ago, my grandfather has recently been admitted to hospital after getting up too quickly and passing out. It turns out that the angina he has been treated for all these years is non-existent; instead, he has very low blood pressure. He came home from hospital and suddenly looks about 5 years younger. On the flip side, he is not coping well with my grandmother's dementia following her stroke. She does make a kind of sense, as long as you can work out where she thinks she is, and what time frame she's in. Otherwise, it is nonsense. My grandfather however can't keep up with this (or doesn't want to accept it - I'm not sure which) and so assumes that everything she says is fact.
As my whole family were visiting them for lunch, we generally had a very nice time, although the fact that my aunt prepared lunch further convinced my grandmother that she's not at home, as she didn't know what we were going to eat. We all ate together, and then my grandparents went for a nap, as did my daughter. When my daughter woke up, she cried as usual. She was quickly ushered into the garden, but my grandmother must have heard her, because when she got up, she kept asking what my daughter had eaten to make her sick, and was convinced that she must have eaten something and that she was ill. Eventually she decided that my daughter had eaten some blackberries from the garden and that they must have been mouldy. Nothing we said could convince her that my daughter was fine; every time it was explained to her, I could see she didn't believe us, as she couldn't understand why else my daughter would have cried.
I love the way my grandmother comes to life when my daughter is around, and the fact that she obviously cares so much for her, but I hate the fact that she worries about her so much that she gets distressed. My mother fell out of a window when she was about 9 months old, and my grandmother is reminded of that every time she sees my daughter and it upsets her - not just the memory of my mother but also the thought that my daughter could be hurt.
It's also very hard for me to watch the way my mum, aunt and sister are dealing with my grandparents' illness. My sister hasn't seen my grandparents since the stroke until today - she can't deal with the thought of them being ill, so has been understandably reluctanct to make the long journey from where she now lives to see them. My mum and aunt both react very differently. My aunt copes by fussing - she wants to do everything for my grandmother and gets in a flap when anything goes wrong. I understand she is anxious (who wouldn't be anxious about their parents) but the extent of her worry frustrates me. My mum on the other hand is very practical and down to earth, to the point of brusqueness. She loves her parents very much, but feels that she has to remain calm and collected, especially as my aunt doesn't. I can see her and my grandmother getting frustrated with each other, and it worries me that they forget that they do actually love each other very much. I can also see my mum getting annoyed at my grandfather's unwillingness or inability to deal with this huge change in their life and it is breaking her relationship with him. This upsets me the most, as she's always been very close to him.
My aunt and my mum have been caring for my grandparents for two months now and they are both exhausted. They have both had holidays but as soon as they are back they are exhausted again, and they are taking more time off work than they can afford. I am caught between being annoyed that they won't rely more on me and my husband as we live 10 minutes away (as opposed to over an hour away for both my mum and my aunt) and relieved that I don't have to care for my grandparents. This in turn makes me feel guilty for not wanting to look after my grandparents - they have given me so much - but I am embarrassed for them and upset to see them unable to care for themselves fully. They have so long been the head of our family and have been there for all of us and now that the positions are reversing they feel inadequate and helpless and ashamed to need our help. So while I want to help them as much as I can, I know that it is even worse for them to be reliant on their grandchildren than it is their children.
There is no simple solution - all I can do is muddle through and hope that my decisions make their lives a little better, so I can feel that I have at least begun to repay them for all they have done for me.
22 August 2006
Shock tactics
One of the things that prompted the creation of this blog was the fabulous writing of (among others) Emily and Julie.
They have both written at times about the trials and tribulations of deciding to have a family - Julie in particular has been through some experiences that I wouldn't wish for anyone. N & I had rather a different experience, which caused us in our own way to go through a great deal of anxiety.
In 2004, after two and a half years together, N proposed to me, and I was over the moon. We planned our wedding for the following autumn, and life was good. Then, in summer 05, I got a new job working in the private sector, a move I had been hoping to make for some time. The timing coming up to the wedding wasn't the best, but I figured I ought to be able to manage - wedding planning was going well and I was very organised.
About a month before our wedding, N had his stag do, and one of my friends came round to spend the day with me while her husband was on the stag do. We had a great girly day and gossiped a lot about nothing much as we usually do (she's the one person I'm ever girly with, as usually I can't stand the whole "he said she said" scene). The only slight downside was that I slipped down our stairs and bashed my coccyx, which was very sore and I had some difficulty walking. On Monday, I was really no better, so I called work and explained that I couldn't make it in - there was no way I could manage public transport in that much pain.
I had been feeling really run down and had started taking some medication that I had previously been on - I figured that I was under the weather and tired because of planning the wedding and the new job. However instead of feeling better, it just made me feel queasy and so I stopped. I was vaguely aware that I was due a period - I never have a clue when I'm due, so I never know if I'm late, and I've had several patches in my life where I've been irregular. However I thought I had better play it safe, and do a test.
How shocked was I when not one, but two lines appeared! I knew that it was a possibility - we weren't exactly 100% careful all the time, but 4 weeks before the wedding?! I went back to the bedroom and made N wake up - I think my exact words were "I need you to wake up; I've got something to tell you and you need to be properly awake for this".
He dragged himself upright (he's not really a morning person!) and I said "I've just done a pregnancy test, and it's positive". "Aaeehr" came the coherent response.
This was a really big issue for us. We knew that we really wanted a family but the timing was exactly wrong. We were laden with debts, just about to get married, and the dates were such that my maternity pay was in doubt. We wanted to make the right decision for us, and the baby, but could barely begin to get our heads around the details. I knew as well that I was not 100% physically fit - as well as being overweight, I had recently overcome a long illness and was only just beginning to feel back to normal. I was terrified that pregnancy would be harmful both to my health and to that of the baby.
The last thing I wanted was for my family doctor to know, so we contacted the family planning centre for advice and options. They confirmed that I was pregnant and pointed us in the direction of Marie Stopes, who were able to provide more advice and information.
We went for an appointment at their clinic, where I had an ultrasound scan and they discussed options for terminating the pregnancy if that is what we wanted. The nurse was fantastic, and talked through all our options, and offered counselling. N & I both broke down in the appointment - it felt so wrong for us to terminate a pregnancy, but at the same time, we were both worried that it would have long term health implications for me (that would possibly impact my ability to look after myself or the baby) and that our relationship would not survive.
We booked an appointment for the termination the next day, and went home and cried about it.
We talked and talked, about our hopes and our fears, how we would cope in either situation, both short and long term. By the end of the night, we knew that there was no way we could go ahead. We knew we had a fantastic support network around us and it would feel hypocritical to terminate a potential child because they had arrived 12 months early.
As soon as we had made the decision, we knew it was right for us. We were suddenly hit with that giddy euphoria that I imagine everyone consciously trying for a baby must feel on getting a positive - a mixture of "wow, it's actually happening" mixed with "oh my god, we must be crazy" and an overwhelming urge to ring everyone we knew and even accost strangers on the street!
It's a year now since we conceived and about 11 months since we found out. I don' t think I'll ever forget the experience and the emotions. I do believe that one day I will tell our daughter that she was unexpected (she'll be able to do the sums between the wedding and her birthday) and if she asks, I'll tell her that we thought long and hard about whether we could fairly raise a child in our circumstances at the time, but that in the end, there was no way we could pass up the opportunity to have the first baby that we both longed for.
They have both written at times about the trials and tribulations of deciding to have a family - Julie in particular has been through some experiences that I wouldn't wish for anyone. N & I had rather a different experience, which caused us in our own way to go through a great deal of anxiety.
In 2004, after two and a half years together, N proposed to me, and I was over the moon. We planned our wedding for the following autumn, and life was good. Then, in summer 05, I got a new job working in the private sector, a move I had been hoping to make for some time. The timing coming up to the wedding wasn't the best, but I figured I ought to be able to manage - wedding planning was going well and I was very organised.
About a month before our wedding, N had his stag do, and one of my friends came round to spend the day with me while her husband was on the stag do. We had a great girly day and gossiped a lot about nothing much as we usually do (she's the one person I'm ever girly with, as usually I can't stand the whole "he said she said" scene). The only slight downside was that I slipped down our stairs and bashed my coccyx, which was very sore and I had some difficulty walking. On Monday, I was really no better, so I called work and explained that I couldn't make it in - there was no way I could manage public transport in that much pain.
I had been feeling really run down and had started taking some medication that I had previously been on - I figured that I was under the weather and tired because of planning the wedding and the new job. However instead of feeling better, it just made me feel queasy and so I stopped. I was vaguely aware that I was due a period - I never have a clue when I'm due, so I never know if I'm late, and I've had several patches in my life where I've been irregular. However I thought I had better play it safe, and do a test.
How shocked was I when not one, but two lines appeared! I knew that it was a possibility - we weren't exactly 100% careful all the time, but 4 weeks before the wedding?! I went back to the bedroom and made N wake up - I think my exact words were "I need you to wake up; I've got something to tell you and you need to be properly awake for this".
He dragged himself upright (he's not really a morning person!) and I said "I've just done a pregnancy test, and it's positive". "Aaeehr" came the coherent response.
This was a really big issue for us. We knew that we really wanted a family but the timing was exactly wrong. We were laden with debts, just about to get married, and the dates were such that my maternity pay was in doubt. We wanted to make the right decision for us, and the baby, but could barely begin to get our heads around the details. I knew as well that I was not 100% physically fit - as well as being overweight, I had recently overcome a long illness and was only just beginning to feel back to normal. I was terrified that pregnancy would be harmful both to my health and to that of the baby.
The last thing I wanted was for my family doctor to know, so we contacted the family planning centre for advice and options. They confirmed that I was pregnant and pointed us in the direction of Marie Stopes, who were able to provide more advice and information.
We went for an appointment at their clinic, where I had an ultrasound scan and they discussed options for terminating the pregnancy if that is what we wanted. The nurse was fantastic, and talked through all our options, and offered counselling. N & I both broke down in the appointment - it felt so wrong for us to terminate a pregnancy, but at the same time, we were both worried that it would have long term health implications for me (that would possibly impact my ability to look after myself or the baby) and that our relationship would not survive.
We booked an appointment for the termination the next day, and went home and cried about it.
We talked and talked, about our hopes and our fears, how we would cope in either situation, both short and long term. By the end of the night, we knew that there was no way we could go ahead. We knew we had a fantastic support network around us and it would feel hypocritical to terminate a potential child because they had arrived 12 months early.
As soon as we had made the decision, we knew it was right for us. We were suddenly hit with that giddy euphoria that I imagine everyone consciously trying for a baby must feel on getting a positive - a mixture of "wow, it's actually happening" mixed with "oh my god, we must be crazy" and an overwhelming urge to ring everyone we knew and even accost strangers on the street!
It's a year now since we conceived and about 11 months since we found out. I don' t think I'll ever forget the experience and the emotions. I do believe that one day I will tell our daughter that she was unexpected (she'll be able to do the sums between the wedding and her birthday) and if she asks, I'll tell her that we thought long and hard about whether we could fairly raise a child in our circumstances at the time, but that in the end, there was no way we could pass up the opportunity to have the first baby that we both longed for.
21 August 2006
You just can't be trusted.
Just after my daughter was born, we were having one of the final visits from the midwife (approx 8-10 days post-delivery). The midwife was doing all of the necessary checks of my daughter (weight, nappy contents, soft spots on head etc) when she announced:
"Of course I have to talk to you about contraception"
"Right", I said, thinking how sensible that was - even our pre-natal midwives were very confusing on the issue of breastfeeding as contraceptive.
"So what will you be using?" she asked. "Do you want to go back on the pill, or would you like an IUD that has a slow-release hormone in it?"
"No thanks, I'm perfectly happy with the condoms," I said. "I'd like a break from taking tablets or other medication of any sort if possible - for a while at least."
"Oh. Are you sure? They're very simple..." (Hmm, clearly she's still confused after having the baby)
(Yes, but I said no thanks) "No, really, that's fine."
"Well let me tell you all about them anyway." (If I say it differently maybe that will help)
(Oh, goody.)
Several minutes (and leaflets) later she ends with, "So, are you certain you don't want to speak to someone about a coil or an implant?"
(Which bit of 'No, I'm quite happy' confused you the first two times?) "Er, no, I really am happy with the condoms, thank you."
"You do know they're not 100% effective, don't you?" (Oh dear, she really is sleep-deprived)
(Yes of course I bloody do - we're not naive 14-year-olds) "Yes"
"Well I'll leave you this information, and you can have a look at it and speak to your GP when you go for your 6-week check." (By then either you will have come to your senses, or he'll be able to talk you round.)
My husband and I couldn't quite believe how pushy she was. We were pleased that we had the opportunity to discuss it, should we have wanted to, but this decision had already been made, and we were both quite happy. We'd already had a few problems with this midwife, so we just put it down to her generally dodgy patient manner.
Several weeks later I went for my 6-week check at the doctors, and (as a responsible GP should) he asked
"Have you thought about contraception now? You know you can get pregnant even though you are breastfeeding?"
"Yes, thank you."
"So what kind of contraception are you thinking of using? Do you want to go back on the pill, or would you like an IUD or implant of some sort?"
(You have got to be joking!)
So we go through the whole rigamarole again.
"No, I really don't want anyth... no, I'm quite happy not havin... yes, I am aware they're not 100%... no, really, I have made my mind up, I don't want to take the number of the family planning clinic just in case.
It was clear that what both the GP and the midwife really wanted to say was "Well, you were stupid enough to get knocked up the first time... how do we know you're not just going to go straight back home and get yourselves in even more trouble... you parents just can't be trusted you know..."
Which is of course the case - all we did in the first eight weeks of our daughter's life was swing from the rafters trying to conceive the maximum number of offspring.
But you have to do something with all that energy you get from having a newborn!
"Of course I have to talk to you about contraception"
"Right", I said, thinking how sensible that was - even our pre-natal midwives were very confusing on the issue of breastfeeding as contraceptive.
"So what will you be using?" she asked. "Do you want to go back on the pill, or would you like an IUD that has a slow-release hormone in it?"
"No thanks, I'm perfectly happy with the condoms," I said. "I'd like a break from taking tablets or other medication of any sort if possible - for a while at least."
"Oh. Are you sure? They're very simple..." (Hmm, clearly she's still confused after having the baby)
(Yes, but I said no thanks) "No, really, that's fine."
"Well let me tell you all about them anyway." (If I say it differently maybe that will help)
(Oh, goody.)
Several minutes (and leaflets) later she ends with, "So, are you certain you don't want to speak to someone about a coil or an implant?"
(Which bit of 'No, I'm quite happy' confused you the first two times?) "Er, no, I really am happy with the condoms, thank you."
"You do know they're not 100% effective, don't you?" (Oh dear, she really is sleep-deprived)
(Yes of course I bloody do - we're not naive 14-year-olds) "Yes"
"Well I'll leave you this information, and you can have a look at it and speak to your GP when you go for your 6-week check." (By then either you will have come to your senses, or he'll be able to talk you round.)
My husband and I couldn't quite believe how pushy she was. We were pleased that we had the opportunity to discuss it, should we have wanted to, but this decision had already been made, and we were both quite happy. We'd already had a few problems with this midwife, so we just put it down to her generally dodgy patient manner.
Several weeks later I went for my 6-week check at the doctors, and (as a responsible GP should) he asked
"Have you thought about contraception now? You know you can get pregnant even though you are breastfeeding?"
"Yes, thank you."
"So what kind of contraception are you thinking of using? Do you want to go back on the pill, or would you like an IUD or implant of some sort?"
(You have got to be joking!)
So we go through the whole rigamarole again.
"No, I really don't want anyth... no, I'm quite happy not havin... yes, I am aware they're not 100%... no, really, I have made my mind up, I don't want to take the number of the family planning clinic just in case.
It was clear that what both the GP and the midwife really wanted to say was "Well, you were stupid enough to get knocked up the first time... how do we know you're not just going to go straight back home and get yourselves in even more trouble... you parents just can't be trusted you know..."
Which is of course the case - all we did in the first eight weeks of our daughter's life was swing from the rafters trying to conceive the maximum number of offspring.
But you have to do something with all that energy you get from having a newborn!
13 August 2006
Opposite ends of the spectrum
Life is a bit strange at the moment. While we're revelling in the wonder that is our new baby, we're also watching my grandmother's health deteriorate.
About a month ago, she had a major stroke. She's been in hospital, and my grandfather has been spending every day by her side trying to make sense of what she says. Not all of what she says is based in the here and now, and hearing her grieve for her youth as though she has just lost it is heartbreaking. Just as upsetting are her lucid moments - she remembers who we are and it frustrates her at the same time as causing her real pain that she can't hold my daughter or play with her the way she could just a few weeks ago.
The thing that hurts me the most is that my daughter's birth had given my grandparents hope and a future to look towards for the first time in years, and it feels as though it has been cruelly snatched away.
My grandmother is not at immediate risk of dying - my grandfather is altering their house for when she comes home - but it's a stark reminder that things don't stay the same, and it feels like a cruel juxtaposition to such a happy time in our lives.
About a month ago, she had a major stroke. She's been in hospital, and my grandfather has been spending every day by her side trying to make sense of what she says. Not all of what she says is based in the here and now, and hearing her grieve for her youth as though she has just lost it is heartbreaking. Just as upsetting are her lucid moments - she remembers who we are and it frustrates her at the same time as causing her real pain that she can't hold my daughter or play with her the way she could just a few weeks ago.
The thing that hurts me the most is that my daughter's birth had given my grandparents hope and a future to look towards for the first time in years, and it feels as though it has been cruelly snatched away.
My grandmother is not at immediate risk of dying - my grandfather is altering their house for when she comes home - but it's a stark reminder that things don't stay the same, and it feels like a cruel juxtaposition to such a happy time in our lives.
08 August 2006
Visiting
Last weekend, we went on our first "long" trip with our daughter (ie more than 1 hour away from home, and requiring more than 1 night's overnight stay). We went to visit friends of ours that I met at university who have also had a baby recently.
It was fantastic to see them - we've not seen them properly since our wedding last year, except for a day about 2 months ago when they did the long round trip in one day to meet our daughter before their baby was born. It was also slightly surreal with the four of us and two small babies - suddenly our care-free student days seemed a very long time ago!
It also gave N & me a chance to see just how much our daughter has changed - their baby is about 8 weeks younger than her and so the difference was noticeable. Whilst he felt so much lighter than she is, it was nice to realise that, for the time being, the sleepless nights are behind us and to see just how much more she interacts with us than she did only a few weeks ago. Only 13 weeks old, and already she seemed like a grown up!
It was fantastic to see them - we've not seen them properly since our wedding last year, except for a day about 2 months ago when they did the long round trip in one day to meet our daughter before their baby was born. It was also slightly surreal with the four of us and two small babies - suddenly our care-free student days seemed a very long time ago!
It also gave N & me a chance to see just how much our daughter has changed - their baby is about 8 weeks younger than her and so the difference was noticeable. Whilst he felt so much lighter than she is, it was nice to realise that, for the time being, the sleepless nights are behind us and to see just how much more she interacts with us than she did only a few weeks ago. Only 13 weeks old, and already she seemed like a grown up!
21 July 2006
A note about the author
To begin then, a summary of me.
I'm in my late 20's, married with one baby who is currently just shy of 3 months old. I'm unemployed at the moment, as is my husband, as in a cruel twist of irony he was made compulsorily redundant days after I had accepted voluntary redundancy. More on that in a later post however.
When I am working, I work in HR, which I absolutely love, and am really looking forward to returning to work, although I also can't imagine being without my baby every day yet.
I live in the South-East of England in a small flat and we have 2 nutty cats that I adore.
I'm going to minimise the names and places mentioned in the blog to try and reduce the chances of me offending and alienating everyone I know and love - but I'm sure I'll slip up from time to time. There is more than enough here to identify me to those who know me, so I'll leave it at that I think.
I'm in my late 20's, married with one baby who is currently just shy of 3 months old. I'm unemployed at the moment, as is my husband, as in a cruel twist of irony he was made compulsorily redundant days after I had accepted voluntary redundancy. More on that in a later post however.
When I am working, I work in HR, which I absolutely love, and am really looking forward to returning to work, although I also can't imagine being without my baby every day yet.
I live in the South-East of England in a small flat and we have 2 nutty cats that I adore.
I'm going to minimise the names and places mentioned in the blog to try and reduce the chances of me offending and alienating everyone I know and love - but I'm sure I'll slip up from time to time. There is more than enough here to identify me to those who know me, so I'll leave it at that I think.
How to start...
So, I decided to start a blog. Why? Well, several reasons really. Partly to be a record of a time of exciting change in my life, partly because one of my closest friends keeps telling me that it may be useful. But if I'm honest, mainly because, like a lot of others, I'd like to believe that my life is interesting to other people, even when it's fairly ordinary to me.
This blog is mainly about my recent experiences with pregnancy and childbirth (because no-one's EVER blogged about that before!) but will probably encompass many other areas of my life, as they entwine themselves around each other.
As I'm new to this (and I have a young baby) I will aim to blog once a week as a minimum. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more frequently, but I guess only time will tell on that score.
I hope that this does prove interesting (to me as well as to any potential readers) and that some of what I write will be entertaining, amusing, or indeed useful to someone reading.
It is not my intention to upset or belittle anyone but this is my blog and my opinions of the world. While I am never setting out to purposefully stir things up I am aware this will happen. Before you decide to pour vitriol over the comments page, please remember - if you don't like what I write, you are perfectly within your rights to ignore me, but insults because you disagree with me are merely petty.
There, that should get a lot of people annoyed before I begin - start as you mean to go on, eh?!
This blog is mainly about my recent experiences with pregnancy and childbirth (because no-one's EVER blogged about that before!) but will probably encompass many other areas of my life, as they entwine themselves around each other.
As I'm new to this (and I have a young baby) I will aim to blog once a week as a minimum. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more frequently, but I guess only time will tell on that score.
I hope that this does prove interesting (to me as well as to any potential readers) and that some of what I write will be entertaining, amusing, or indeed useful to someone reading.
It is not my intention to upset or belittle anyone but this is my blog and my opinions of the world. While I am never setting out to purposefully stir things up I am aware this will happen. Before you decide to pour vitriol over the comments page, please remember - if you don't like what I write, you are perfectly within your rights to ignore me, but insults because you disagree with me are merely petty.
There, that should get a lot of people annoyed before I begin - start as you mean to go on, eh?!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
