End of another phase

This week marks another key point in my parenting journey. My maternity leave is coming to an end. I’m really not sure how i feel about it. Mixed emotions i think.

I adore my job. I’ve said this many times,and I’ll keep saying it. I love my job, the charity I work for, the work we do. It’s also what makes a huge difference to my mental health. But on the flip side,this means my daughter is growing older. She’s going to be going to a child minder. She’s now closer to a year than to birth. She’s been growing in the big wide world for almost as long as she was growing inside me.

I have loved my 9 months of being mummy and mum. I’ve loved watching my children grow. Watching my teenager flourish in his first year at college. Watching my toddler gain more independence. Watching my baby grow and learn.

Knowing i will not do this parenting journey again has made me even more aware of every milestone. Each new thing. Each change in appearance. Each ounce of weight gained. Every smile, every tear. I hate the thought of missing anything,but also know i need to step out of this safe bubble.

But this realisation has also been a bit overwhelming. It hit me hard, especially as it coincides with returning from a fabulous holiday this week, and a big change in weather. I’m trying to make sure I stop and refocus,but in reality at times that’s hard. So for now I’m focusing on things I can manage and control. Deep breaths and move a step forward.

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Getting ready for the next stage

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One of the things I am really struggling with at the moment is every time someone tells me that my little girl is growing up. I know that she will be my last baby, and so in someways I want to make all of this time last as long as possible.

In 2 days time she will be 7 months old. That is more than half of her first year gone, and I feel at times like I have missed so much of the first few months. I am constantly trying to capture in my mind and my heart each moment, as I know I can never have them again. While I am celebrating her moving on in her development, part of me keeps feeling ‘Not yet’! Part of me isn’t ready yet for her to start being mobile, becoming more independent, needing me less.

And I know that some of this is a long long way off.

My toddler still needs me daily. My teenager needs me – but not as much as it feels like I need him. And my daughter needs me. I know she does. But I also know that she doesn’t always miss me like I miss her. I know that none of my children do.

My husband and I joke about my behaviour when I am apart from my teenage son for any period of time. I feel like I have lost an arm or a leg. I find it really hard. I struggle with letting go, as I can still remember holding him in my arms nearly 18 years ago, and  realising that this small person was suddenly totally dependent on me.

I struggle with how willingly my toddler runs off to his childminder – and only because she is so amazing at what she does, and he absolutely adores going. But I struggle because it is a time in his week when I am not needed.

At the moment I am struggling with the idea of returning to work. I love my job. I have really enjoyed my Keeping In Touch days. I adored the day I had back in the office a couple of weeks ago. I love my colleagues. I love what we do. But I am struggling with the idea of not being there for my daughter all day every day. It’s irrational, I know. I know she will be having an amazing time with our wonderful friend and childminder. I know I can touch base whenever I need to. But I am struggling.

What I have realised is that I am human, I am normal. I am not superwoman. I am allowed to feel like this. Loving my children is the hardest but the easiest thing to do, and each stage require me to let go a little bit more.

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6 months in and I’m starting to feel a bit more normal!

Newcastle Family Life_ What it was like suffering from PND

This week saw the 6 month mark since I gave birth. In the last month we’ve started to have some big changes…..she’s moved out of our bedroom,she’s starting trying food, she’s sitting up unaided. But for me the biggest change has been one that I’ve felt in me. In the last couple of weeks it’s started to feel like the horrid fog that is brought down by the postnatal depression is lifting a bit.

I’ve actually started to feel real joy in things again, rather than the forced feelings that weren’t genuine but were what I knew I should be feeling. I’m actually finding that spending time with my children is becoming an enjoyment again and not a chore. That might sound awful, but that is the reality for so many parents. Enjoying time with my toddler, my teenager, my baby, is something that had become a distant memory, and is  now something that I am starting to enjoy again.

This doesn’t mean that everything has suddenly got easier. It really hasn’t. Going out can still be my biggest cause of anxiety, and the easiest thing to find an excuse for. Finding the energy to do much else is still a struggle. Feeling like all I can do is sleep some days is still very common. But it’s small steps.

Over the weekend I have deliberately used my energy to do some small “jobs” that needed completing at home. I have realised over the last couple of months, that there are certain areas in the house that it helps me if they are ordered and tidy. I hate not having the energy to keep on top of it all. Unfortunately, this can trigger my OCD and my anxieties. Knowing things aren’t away in their place, where I have created a process and a plan causes me more stress. However, rather than tackling this when it is small, I can let it become a bigger problem. For me, recently, my bedroom has been this area. The pile of clothes and bits at the end of the bed has got bigger and bigger, and the stress in my head about it has got bigger and bigger. So I have tackled it, but know that now I can relax more. But I also know I will now want to make sure everything is in the right drawer etc, and will struggle when things are out of place.

Frustratingly it really is a catch 22. And I know it’s something that people don’t understand. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is that….it’s a disorder. There is no explaining why I need things to be in a certain place in a drawer, and why I find it so stressful when they aren’t. It isn’t logical. Boy do I wish it was! I hate it. I hate that I can’t escape it or explain it.

The other thing I am realising, and having to come to terms with, is that this is going to be a new “normal”. Normal won’t be going back to how I used to be, but it is about mean learning to live with who I am now, and that this version of me is likely to be around for a long time. Until I have accepted this version as the here and now, and stop trying to mask it, I can’t expect others to accept it. They will keep thinking the performance is the reality.

So I will keep going with this new normal.

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The fear of the scales

This contraption has been the cause of some of my biggest problems since giving birth. It has caused me panic attacks, it has caused tears, it makes a fear bubble up inside me every time I have to get her weighed.

I know that the fear stems from the first few weeks of her life, when every time she hadn’t gained weight they would be sending us back to hospital. But it has left a deep rooted fear that I will be judged and comments will be made if at any point she drops off her weight curve. Things like get bringing up more milk than normal after feeds because she’s full of mucous from a cold or she’s been gumming lots and creating acidic saliva make me worry. I dread the times when we have to put her on the scales.

As I’ve said before, my health visitor is amazingly supportive, and she’ll come to the house to do the weighing, rather than getting me to go to tbe clinic, where I’ve had meltdowns because I’m panicking. But I still have to get her and her brother weighed every time we see the dietician.

There is no easy fix at the moment, and like all my other anxieties it’s made worse by tbe post natal depression, but it doesn’t take the fear away. Like everything else, it’s another fear I have to overcome, and each of them is a baby step.

The look of peace

Today I had one of those treasured special moments, that after 14 months is already becoming less of an occurrence. In fact this was the first time it had happened in a few weeks. My little boy curled up in my lap and fell asleep. I loved just watching the look of peace wash over his face as he dropped into a deeper sleep. It seemed a long way from the little boy who 30 minutes earlier had been emptying the bookcase at a rate of knots to find his favourite lift-the-flap book!

It was so calming to watch too. For a few moments i just treasured the peace. The calm. The quiet. Not times that regularly occur with our delightful, lively little boy. It surprised me at how much I had missed those snuggly moments of a newborn sleeping on me.

The flip side to this is actually I cherish the moments that he is asleep in his cot. It took several weeks of perseverance and feeling like it was never going to happen before we got him sleeping in the cot, and then longer till he would fall asleep in the cot. I knew we needed that to happen, for my sanity and for our life as a couple and our time with our older son. Looking back, now, I know some of it we bred ourselves. It came from a place of love, of exhaustion, and of wanting to protect our fragile tiny baby, who had had so many challenges put in his way, that we didn’t want to add another. A sleeping baby means I can have an hour (or 2 if i’m lucky) where I can have some me time, catch up on work, do some housework. It means I can recharge my batteries for the next stage of the day.

I find the constant need to be entertained draining. I adore my sons, but I am so very aware about how much space and time I need for me. These days it often means going to be before 9.30pm, just so I can curl up with my book for more than a page before I fall asleep. I know my time for knitting will return in time, and that I also wouldn’t change where I am in life for a moment. My writing is my space to express, and to be me. So here you go. Peace!

Enjoying memories

I’ve been spending some time recently liking back over photos of when my eldest was a lot younger. The photos of the day he was born, his first nativity, starting school, learning to ride a bike. The list goes on.

At times it feels like I’m looking back on someone else’s life. My life as an individual and as a parent has changed so much since they were taken. The wonderful world of timehop also reminds me of moments. Recently it’s reminded me of the day my eldest son was seriously ill, and how the support of amazing family and friends got us through. Its reminded me of when he broke his top jaw at school and how we’re still fixing the mess now, 7 years later! But it’s also reminded me of other big milestones….. concerts he sung in, being enrolled as a Beaver Scout, scoring for his basketball team.

I’ve seen memories of friendships that still last today, and of others that might not be the same anymore but are great treasured memories. I’ve seen images that remind me of all the milestones. All have made me smile.

Importantly, this has all reminded me about the importance of continuing to make more memories. Not just with my teenage son or just with the toddler, but with them both. Together and separately, that time is important and can’t be got back. Its also important for us to value our family time and not lose it in busyness and technology. One day in the not too distant future my teenager will be an adult and will be making his own life away from us. So i will keep cherishing the moments with him as i know those are going to be more and more limited.

Children spell love… T-I-M-E.” – Dr. A. Witham