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.
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!
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.
This image really sums up how the GCSEs my eldest is sitting this summer seem. I hated GCSEs the first time around when I had to sit them. It definitely wasn’t a time I look back on with happy memories. And now, as a parent of a teenager going through them, I hate them again.
It seems so unfair that my son’s year are having to be the guinea pigs for the new exams and syllabus for so many subjects. I know a year has to be, but for so many at once?!
I hate the pressure that is put on schools by different groups. Not just Government, but the academy group they are part of, the governing body, parents, the list goes on. I hate that this pressure is passed down on to all students. And I hate that they insist that all students have to learn and revise in the same way, even if it really doesn’t suit them, or they have additional needs that require a different way of working.
I also get frustrated that by standing up for my son and his needs, I’m labelled as a fussy and protective parent. But without too many emails, 3 meeting, 5 or 6 phone calls, he would never have got the support he is entitled to.
So I guess this is my rant about the frustrations on the older end of parenting. It’s hard work. It’s frustrating as a parent. It’s frustrating for the teenager. It’s a time of change and decision making that can affect life goals. I’m glad I’m not there again as a teen, and I hope I get it right as a parent. Roll on 2 months time!
I’m not a parenting expert. In fact, I’m not sure that I even believe in the idea of ‘parenting experts.’ I’m an engaged, imperfect parent and a passionate researcher. I’m an experienced mapmaker and a stumbling traveler. Like many of you, parenting is by far my boldest and most daring adventure.
Like many families September signaled the end of a very busy summer holidays, and back for the final year of school for my eldest son. That for me was a big moment emotionally. Being aware that we are entering a new final phase of this stage of his education and having to make decisions together about the next steps.
But this September also signaled a new routine for me and our younger son on several levels. We have started a couple of new activities in our weekly diary. We have moved to a new swimming class and we both love going for both the social time and the skills it is giving him. Just spending time with him enjoying the water and knowing that he is unlikely to have any reactions while we are there is a huge relief and so I relax. We have also started a Sing and Sign class, which looks at baby signing while doing lots of singing – which he loves. I am really wary about joining classes as it is so hard to find an environment where he is safe and away from his many allergens. But I was so encouraged to go to a space that was clear of allergens and in a place where they understand the potential implications of him coming in to contact with an allergen.
Finally I am now back working part-time. This was a big step for me to take, as I knew it would mean leaving the baby with someone else for part of the week. I know for most parents this is a big thing, and for us it was coupled with finding child care that could cope with our son’s health needs. He has multiple allergies. Currently he only has 17 foods he can eat safely after 4.5 months of introducing foods! I was lucky enough to know a lovely friend who also child minds, and she had space for 1 day a week. With support from my in-laws for another afternoon, most of my hours are covered, and the rest work round my life. The job is the perfect option for me, my husband and our sons. It gives me the flexibility needed for the many hospital appointments I have to go to with the baby, and it gives me the input and stimulation I need for me as a woman who has always loved her career in fundraising.
But leaving my baby for 18 hours in a week is a big thing for me, after 3 weeks it still is. I constantly wonder if what I am doing is the right thing. Is being at work the best thing for me? for my sons? for my relationship? I know it is the right thing. It has given me back a different perspective on life I was missing. It has given me space to breathe and be me. Just me. Not wife or mum. Just me. It has also helped me value my time at home even more. Some days are hard. I am terrified that my baby will reach a milestone while not at home with me. I am worried that my teenager will need my support with school difficulties while I am at the office. I worry, cos part of that is who I am. I know socially it is doing amazing things for my son, and both my in laws and friend who is a childminder totally have his best interests at heart and give him the best care possible, but I am still am mum and will worry. It’s ok to worry. It’s normal.