Surviving the Initial Storm of Motherhood.

I'm obviously the tree.

I made it! I've been brushing my hair and (more importantly) my teeth daily, I can finally tell the difference between my legs and Joe's after a serious shaving act I can only compare to deforestation and I've been sleeping! So, contrary to my earlier thought of 'what the f have I got myself into' or 'this baby will never stfu' I now love being a mum. Well at least I did until the end of month 4. And now we're into the 5th month, not so much. But have I learnt anything from the storm that battered my life during the first 12 weeks? Of course. I've learnt that it's just a phase. Seriously. This is my mantra, and in the toughest times it has gotten me through. I can forever keep wallowing in the fact that I've lost babies and bla bla, miracle baby and all that. That's not enough when she's screaming for the fourth time between 11pm and 3am. It certainly isn't enough when she's thrown up on my face coughed her baby sick in my mouth, and I can't say I'm a great fan of middle-of-the-night baths scouring a shit explosion off of an entire child whilst half asleep. (Me being half asleep, not her.) It's never them being tired to the point of exhaustion. On my 'one particular twilight bath session' Amelie thought it was hilarious and not only smiled ear to ear whilst cooing, she proceeded to create a tsunami and flood the [carpeted] landing! The kid's been a storm since day one, so I'd expect no different.

So aside from my super useful phase mantra, how have a come out being a wiser mum? No how. Haha. I mean I have gained something that's for sure; I haven't continuously called it the steepest learning curve of my life for no reason. I've learnt to be resilient and not give in, or doubt myself. But I've also gained a fair few physical skills. I now can balance a bottle (whilst feeding) with my cheek/chin. I have certainly gained biceps?triceps? No idea of which muscle is which one but my arms are hench to say the least. I didn't necessarily want muscular arms, but I guess that's the result of having a child that won't tolerate being put down for like 15 weeks. It's ok, she's been considerate enough to allow me to exercise my legs too, because by the end of the month 4, we are at the stage of not only not being able to be put down, I can't even sit down with her when it's sleeping time. It's now a case of chart music (weird baby, not a fan of lullabies) and rocking out [walking a weird bouncy walk] around the living room. Sometimes it can take 5 minutes, other times 25! So with around 4 naps and a 'night night' sleep that's potential for 'maths I can't do' amount of minutes - probably hours of exercise! So I'm toning up. I must add that it's this month I started feeling an improvement 'down there' so maybe exercise really does stimulate the healing process. Most people would laugh if they found out a 5lb 12 baby (that's tiny I've come to learn) obliterated my va-jay with her arrival!

I've also acquired some insane driving skills. I can now mostly drive one handed. I learnt this skill one occasion when I had encountered the silliest amount of traffic upon all routes which made my 20 minute journey last a couple of minutes shy of 3 hours and Amelie was (quite understandably) roaring for milk. So I fed her, and drove. I surprised myself.

I learnt that Joe loves me unconditionally. Despite having the d-word thrown around nearly daily at one point, he still continued to kiss me good morning and good night, make me dinner, take over Amelie when I asked and generally do everything I asked - and put up with my consolation shopping habit! The arguments like over the silliest things have been multiple daily ones, but he still carries on and tells me he understands how hard it can be. So yeah despite it recently feeling rocky, I've learnt my marriage is actually rock-solid. (I hope I don't end up getting divorced next month because I've jinxed myself now).

I have most definitely gained a hatred and lyrical awareness of most of the programs on 'BabyTv' I know where the fuck 'grandpa hides', I am pretty certain I can identify who each animal house 'belongs to' and my god I'm shit hot on my numbers 1-10. Amelie and I are counting machines! But the most important thing I've learnt from baby tv is that I can leave Amelie in front of it for about 10-15 minutes, in her bouncer or on her playmat and get on with being me! I can have a break and for that, BabyTv and Sky, channel 623, I adore you. I'll count all day from 1-10 with Charlie and his number friends if I am guaranteed 15 minutes every couple of hours. I'm lying, it's more like 15 minutes every hour until midday. By then, I've tidied up and sorted my life out and we venture out.

So they're the gains of month 4 which has been my favourite and easiest part of being a mum. Now we've reached the end of month 4 and start of month 5, what have I lost ? Sleep! The 4 month sleep regression is a joke! Although for us it hit near the end of 4 months! We went from sleeping 7-10 hours per night to like 3 before waking up. She didn't settle after night feeds and cooed or groaned for hours. She'd be up every hour for the first week of sleep regression, and I was averaging 1.5-3 hours sleep total per night. For about 2 weeks. So when my eyes burnt, I told myself it's just a phase. In fairness, as much as I hate it, it's super reassuring to know that she's doing what is expected developmentally and is on track. In terms of losses, I've also realised that I've lost my fungus-like attachment (baby) and she will now tolerate being put down for a nap occasionally. I find myself holding her through her naps just because I want to. (What the hell is wrong with me) I want her to grow, but I don't at the same time. It's odd. Motherhood itself is odd.

So I started this post by saying I made it and how great the lull between the first twelve weeks and 5 months was. Now, I'm currently in the eye of the storm yet again (although still keeping up with brushing my teeth and occasionally shaving too) but I've learnt just to stay calm because it'll pass. I'm not ever gunna be holding onto an 18 year old, rocking them to sleep, am I? Although I do fear my sleep will be disturbed at that age by drunken phone calls requesting lifts backs - ah! Maybe there'll be 'a phase' forever?

I'm currently in the process of phasing out my blog posts from being linked to my personal Facebook account with a view for me to solely use my new Facebook page dedicated to this blog in a couple of months. If you would like to continue with me on my journey of motherhood, please head over to my page here and give it a like to continue receiving post updates.  Alternatively, you can search 'Mumming Madness'

Thanks 😚😁

I'm sorry I wasn't the first to hold you: a section of a letter to my baby girl

My dearest baby Amelie,
Thank you. You made me something I honestly never thought I'd become. A mother. Already in the few weeks we've known each other you've taught me more than I ever thought possible. You need me. From your day one to my forever, I'll be there to wipe your tears, ease your fears and make your life the best it can be. I'll teach you, but never lecture you; I'll guide you but never push you; I'll work harder than you'll ever know to make sure your world is the most beautiful place to be. And when it isn't, I'll be right there to help you figure out all the trials and tribulations that life may throw at us.

First I must apologise. I'm sorry that I didn't hold you the second you came into the world. I was scared. I'd convinced myself that something would go wrong, as it had so many times before, and just wanted to hear you cry, and to know that you were ok. I couldn't get this far, only to watch you give up on life in my arms, after 9 months in my belly. 9 long months, of which I had spent every waking second with you at the forefront of all I do. I just needed to hear the doctor say you're ok. So I declined when they offered to put you on my chest straight away. Because you hadn't made a peep. I needed to hear you're ok. You were taken to the other side of the room for the doctor to do his checks, but still you made no sound. The doctors seemed in no rush and your Daddy was right next to you the whole time. It felt like all time had stopped and for those thirty seconds, I was frozen. I can't even remember what the surgeons were doing, I had received several injections without even realising until the nurse told me. Then I heard you cry. It was like someone had hit a resume button and the background noise returned. You were ok. And the paediatrician said so. And when I finally held you, I felt the most amazing connection I had ever felt. You became my best friend in that split second.

Your little life is hardly a few weeks old; we've started calling them months now, but I'm already full of fear, worry and guilt over how I've taken to the new job you've blessed me with.

I fear for your safety constantly. I worry that I'm not doing it all as well as I could. I feel guilty if you cry, that I haven't got there quick enough.

Being your mum is the scariest and hardest, but no doubt the best feeling in the world. You will never understand how and why I love you so, but let me offer you a piece of the very start of our journey, my true, miracle baby.

You were our 8th try - and by this time I'd come close to giving up hope. I'd given up on the excitement of a new baby, so for that I'm sorry. I wasn't excited when I discovered your existence, nor did I have much emotion when we first saw you on the screen with a beating heart. The truth is, I was petrified. Something felt different this time - I was convinced it was that I had become totally numb to losing babies and had no emotion left to give. Even though we were offered a chance to see you again, much sooner than we otherwise would have (just two weeks later) I felt next to nothing but an all-consuming fear. A time in the past, we had seen a heartbeat and then were told it had stopped, so I was certain you would have given up by the time the next scan came around too. You hadn't. There on the screen, through blurry eyes, I saw the little flicker of your super strong heart and I felt so connected. From that moment on I began to believe, but still remained sceptical until the gender scan at 20 weeks. When we found out you were a little girl, it became more real. I was beyond excited and by this point absolutely full of happiness, excitement you name it. But I could not let go of fear. I carry this fear of losing you to this day and face a constant daily battle where I reassure myself that actually everything will be just fine. It just has to be.

Every food consumed, activity undertaken had you at the forefront. I consumed an unbelievable amount of protein to ensure I had enough for 'growth and repair' to two bodies. I kept up with carbohydrates so as to ensure I had enough energy - and cakes! I'd happily demolish an entire cheesecake - with the exception of a tiny slice for your dad and felt no shame! Then showers - never too hot as I had read somewhere that it decreases oxygen intake by 50%! No exercise that involved more than walking, PLENTY of rest - I slept any second I had including in between teaching lessons sometimes in my car! It was crazy - almost like an illness mirroring OCD. Only I was actually fighting an 'illness' my body was incapable of carrying a baby up until this point and I had made it my task to fight that. And it did mess with my mind. I know it now as well as I knew it then - so luckily I wasn't actually crazy because I was super aware that over the top was not cutting it. My behaviour was more like a regimented out of this galaxy compared to 'over the top'.

So when I had come to the end of this 9 month battle, there you were held out in front of me - a tiny parcel of perfection, I just needed to know you were ok. I couldn't face holding you, feeling your warmth only to have it ripped away from me. In my mind, until the doctor gave you the all clear, you could've given up just like the other seven babies had, leaving me with no explanation and an unbearable amount of pain. Sure enough, you and I both got the the all clear and when I finally held your tiny little body close to mine, I felt complete. I breathed in your smell which was new but weirdly familiar, kissed your head and just held you, in total shock but wrapped in happiness. A lot of things have not gone my way in life, but for once, I had won. And my beautiful prize was this deep and unconditional ever-ripening love. I really do love you more each day and find a different reason to love you with each one.

We took you home. And began our very own little happily ever after.

My best friend is a 4 month old

My best friend is a 4 month old

Babies are geniuses in my eyes. They're master manipulators and never use a single word. She's never spoken a word to me, yet we talk. We communicate all day, just not the conventional way. We squeak, grunt and gurgle to each other; observing and mimicking certain sounds at certain times. Then they start to have meaning. Yes - my 4 month old has taught me a whole system of communication. Geniuses, these babies. Ever heard of the saying 'it's not what you said its how you said it'? That exactly what I spend my days doing. Amelie makes a noise and I observe the particular sound for tone, pitch and sharpness to decipher its meaning. She might only say 'gah' but believe me, there are a whole host of ways she can utter this! She's a little human, very much dependent on someone for all areas of her life- I mean she still can't even hold on to a teething ring for longer than a minute and the girl needs to soothe the horrible pain of teeth piercing her gums! For her, 'gah' is the only 'word' she can use to get her through the day. With a tired mummy it can be hard for her. So for her, sound is everything! I don't for a second wish to try and replicate her sounds (hard in writing and exceptionally boring to read) but just take our own adult language as an example. One of the sounds we use in a similar way is 'ha'. 

You can express humour:

 'that looks funny like that, ha!'

We can use it to hide embarrassment: 

'not gunna make it as I've just failed my driving test and can't drive, ha!

Can use it to be aggressive:

'I win and you lose, so HA!'

And so on..

So this is the newest discovery on my motherhood journey! I'm constantly listening, analysing coming to conclusions and devising solutions for the many things that surround Amelie! 

Her little personality shines through already - if I spend a little longer than she is happy with washing her bottles or preparing her, her FRESHLY cooked-to-baby-perfection 'meal' she outright shouts at me as if to say hurry up! 

I make fun of the repetitive nature of baby programs by exaggerating and mocking the characters' sayings, and she finds it hilarious. So, in the numbers song with Charlie and the numbers, as soon as I've uttered 'one' she is all smiles and singing shouting along all the way through to number 10 - at which stage the characters declare that it's time to 'do it all again' fml! So my little munchkin is already gah-ing and squeaking [and dribbling] whilst kicking her legs frantically ready for a repeat of the numbers song! She knows what is good in life and for us it doesn't get much better than singing the numbers 1-10! TWICE! 

My favourite part of her personality is that everything is funny. As long as I ask her, she agrees with a huge grin. Well, within reason, I mean if she's screaming in agony with a huge tooth on its way up I doubt she would respond quite so positively if at all to her stupid mum asking 'is it funny?' For the millionth time, but aside from obvious unfunny scenarios, everything is funny according to Amelie. Recently a passerby crawler kid donked her on the head with a block of wood (OK it was a wooden train) and she cried, but after 10 seconds or so of my high pitched reassurance, coupled with 'is that funny' (seriously may as well be my slogan) she confirmed that yea, it was funny - because she was grinning from ear to ear. Phew! Hopefully she grows up to be a comedian being that she seems to always see the funny side! 

Now, as with any friendship it doesn't always go smoothly for us ! Sometimes she's a pain in the backside, no - she's a serious fricking nightmare. Food, for example is a great situation. Bottles for one, I KNOW she is no longer hungry after having an entire 'big bottle' but she insists - she ditches 'gah' for this part and just screams - so I make another bloody bottle that I know will be going straight down the drain or on a good day maybe in the fridge. She takes one sip of her fresh second bottle and either chokes slightly on it because she doesn't want it, or coughs the entire mouthful of milk in my face with repeated sprays. Thanks. So these things do little less than please me and we 'fall out'. This results in me thinking 'fuck you, I knew I was right' (emphasis on THINKING I would never actually SAY that to her) and I stop sacrificing myself to her for a few moments and treat myself to a wee. Or a drink of water. Then we are friends again, so it's safe to say our disputes are short lived. These little creatures as annoying and turbulent as they can be, are the most amazing little things so they're pretty easy to forgive. 

I'm thankful for our laughs everyday and although I AM pretty relieved to put her to bed recently, mainly because of teething and me surviving on 1.5-3 hours sleep per night, most nights I genuinely think I'm gunna miss you for the next few hours, because she really does make time so special. 

For the first time in life I'm living in the now. They teach us from such a young age to live for the future - do good in school so you can get a good job, get a good job so you can buy a nice house... And the like. But for now, I'm thoroughly  enjoying the PRESENT!