12 months gone in a flash

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12 months ago I entered hospital knowing within the next few days I was going to become a mummy again for the last time. I knew I was going to meet my little girl. But I also knew I could be looking at another long induction, I knew there were risks, I knew so much, but I also knew nothing. I knew nothing of this little girl that had been growing inside me for 38 weeks. I had struggled to bond with her during pregnancy as i’d felt minimal movement all the way through. I had hated the pregnancy. I wanted that part to be over. But I was also excited. I was excited to meet this little person.

In the end, she decided that she was going to make a quick arrival into the world. So quick the midwife didn’t have time to make any notes or observations! My daughter’s birth set the pace of the last 12 months.

Nicknamed “small but mighty” she fought every battle she came up against in those early weeks and months, and let the world know she was a fighter. She has ruled the roost at home and made it very clear who is the boss to her brothers!

The year has been one full of bittersweet moments for me. I have adored every moment as she has grown and developed from a tiny tiny baby, to a dinky toddler (and I can call her that as she’s now walking!) But i’ve also had this sadness knowing that I won’t have another baby going through these milestones again. I’ve been battling with this, as it seems so selfish. I know there are so many out there who would love just one child of their own, and I have 3. But I also know I had a desire to have 3. I know how much I love being a mum and how at times I feel I miss out on things because I am a working mum.

This year I have carried guilt at feeling like I’m wishing days away while I was looking forward to returning to work. Then feeling guilty for being at work. I’ve had days when I just want those moments to keep going and never stop. I’ve tried to capture them in words, pictures and in my heart. The time seems  like it has slipped past without me noticing.

In these 12 months I’ve also become the parent of an adult! And now when I look back I feel that there are many moments of my son’s life I have missed. I feel like there are memories I am already forgetting. It’s reminded me how time with my children is so precious whatever stage they are at. I want to value and hold each second and cherish it. But I also want all my children to reach their potential at every stage of their lives and fly high in whatever way that is.

Parenting 3 is something I resolutely vowed I would never do, but actually I think it’s working ok. I’m not always getting it right, and I am always feeling mum guilt over one or other of my children. People ask is 3 easier than 2, harder than 2? Honestly…..3 is different to 2. Some days it is easier, some days it is harder. But every day is a memory I hold on to.

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Commitment…as a wife, parent, friend, colleague

I’ve been thinking about commitment a lot over the last couple of weeks, as my eldest child turned 18. I made a commitment to him from the moment he was born that he would always come first. And I really hope that I’ve always kept that promise. That promise didn’t mean he always got what he wanted, or that he liked everything I said or did, but I meant that he was always a the forefront of my choices and plans.

And now that he’s turned 18, that commitment doesn’t end. And because he has 2 siblings that commitment doesn’t change. I have to change to adapt to putting my children and their individual needs first, and work out the compromises that need to be made. Within that, I also have my commitment to my husband. He is my best friend and my partner for life. He will be along side me long after all our children have flown the nest. My commitment to him is to keep investing in us through the tough times as well as the great times.

Anyone who truly knows me, will know that I give my 100% commitment to everything that I do. Be it friendship, work, hobbies, faith, life. That is a core part of who I am. As a result I don’t have a huge circle of friends, but those I have I give everything to. A lunch or coffee date will take priority as I give them my time. I know how much someone giving their time to me like that matters to me, so I value it when I give it to others too. Yes this can set me up for hurt, but it is a core part of me.

My commitment to my younger children means commitment to the menial tasks like making meals, sterilising bottles, providing them with a safe home environment, feeding them, clothing them. But it also means a commitment to being there forever. You can’t turn off being a parent just because they reach a certain milestone, but you can change how you relate and behave.

So take your commitments seriously. Especially to other people. You are probably unaware of how much others value it.

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.

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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Insecurities… not seen by others but can be crippling

I live every day feeling that I’m not good enough at the moment. My insecurities can be bad at the best of times, but at the moment they are huge. My insecurities trigger moments of jealousy, self doubt, feelings of neglect, of being over looked or left out.

People can say “Don’t be silly!” or “It’s all in your head!” but that doesn’t take away the feelings. The feelings are strong and are real. Some moments are worse than others. Seeing things posted on social media that you weren’t invited to, but would have loved to attend, seeing other friends getting together without you, hearing about plans made. This doesn’t mean how I’m feeling is right or justified, but it’s where I’m at.

When I say I have anxiety, it’s not just about practical things, it runs into feelings and emotions. It affects my self worth. It affects my self belief. And I hate it! I hate doubting my friendships, my relationships, my capabilities I hate feeling inside that I’m inferior. Some days it makes me want to just walk away from everything and live in a bubble with my family.

The triggers are varied and unpredictable, which doesn’t help others really. It can range from lack of sleep, to absolutely nothing I can pinpoint! And then it eats away. The damage it can do can be long term. I’ll often, when really struggling, choose to cut myself off from people, from the world. My head is saying ‘If people can’t be bothered with me, then I won’t bother with them so they can’t hurt me!’ But on the flip side my heart is screaming ‘Please let me know you value me, you want me in your life!’

Little things can make a huge difference. But also no one should feel that they have to acknowledge. I never truly appreciated the value of the words “thank you” till my insecurities and anxieties took over. Someone acknowledging you and saying hello, or checking in can make such a difference.

I know over time these insecurities will fade and be less of a struggle. But these struggles are real and they are a battle. They can be exhausting!

The end of a journey

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Over the last couple of weeks, my husband and I had agreed that we would  start to wean our daughter off of breastfeeding and on to formula. It came with a real mix of feelings for me. Sadness in someways as I have enjoyed the closeness and knowledge that I was her main provider, but on the other side there was a huge feeling of relief. It was so hard to actually make a decision, because society has so many feelings about what you should or shouldn’t do.

For us there was the added complexity of her milk allergy, exacerbated by her starting to react to her dairy free formula. So another GP appointment, and another formula, and we could start the process again. But for 5 days I was doing every feed, and what I realised very quickly was that I was exhausted and struggling. I missed being able to do bedtime with our son, because I was having to feed our daughter, rather than my husband giving her a bottle. I was struggling in the morning, as a time where I had normally caught up on sleep, while my husband did the first feed and took both children disappeared.

And then on top I had the mum guilt. I felt guilty cos I was resenting having to feed her all the time. I felt guilty because I couldn’t do things with my son because I was feeding, and when I wasn’t feeding I was too tired to do much. I felt guilty as a wife, because I was so worn out by it all. It was a huge battle I was having internally.

Making the decision to swap to solely formula feeding, was, in the end, and easy one. I knew I couldn’t keep going feeling so tired out by it all. I needed to be able to share the load. I need to be able to say yes to an invite from a friend if I want to go out. I need to find time and space to be me, Rachel, rather than spend my whole time being “mum” or “mummy”.

I have to say, I couldn’t have done the feeding journey I have been on without the never ending support of my online mummy friends. The two dozen or so women who have supported me through the middle of the night endless feeds courtesy of WhatsApp. The ladies on our facebook group that have encouraged me when I was having the bad days. And today, when I shared that I was at the end of the journey, they just loved and supported me some more.

For me, to reach 22 weeks of breastfeeding, is a milestone I never thought I would achieve. In the early days I was under so much pressure from medical professionals to switch to solely formula feeding, and then since then there has been pressure from some friends and family to stop breastfeeding as they think it was invading in to life too much and not what they saw as “normal” as it wasn’t what they had done, to pressure from people to go to solely breastfeeding as “breast is best”. I’ve always known that I was going to have to increase bottle feeds as I couldn’t express the milk needed to do a day or a night without me there, and with returning to work, and settling in with the childminder, it was something I was anticipating.

For me, fed has always been the best option. My eldest was bottle fed from 10 days old. My second was given his first feed by cup, he had 12 hours of tube feeding, 8 weeks of breastfeeding, and then switched to formula. So all very different journeys. Ending the breastfeeding journey now is what is right and best for me, my daughter, my sons and my husband. Because, more than anything else it is what is right for my mental health right not. My journey is not going to be right for everyone, and I know people will have their opinions, but I am going to try not to care. I know my family are going to be happier and that is my priority.

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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.