Well here goes!

I kind of hummed and arhhed about writing this, but then one evening I just thought what have I got to be ashamed about. And also in hope that writing it may also help others.

So for the last month or so I’ve been battling with my anxiety, it started with just waking up one morning doing my Normal routine with the kids and suddenly thinking “what happens to the kids if I die?”. And with that came a whole lot of worries and daily stresses. From something so little as walking to the park with the children, and thinking “what happens if a car mounted the kerb and came towards us, how do I save the kids?”. To sitting in trafffic and a lorry pulling up thinking “what happens if this lorry doesn’t stop and shunts us into the traffic”. Now to most people my logic of thinking is somewhat “crazy, stupid and totally irrational”. Now these words are not me making them up, that’s genuine words people have used when I built up the courage to tell them how I feel.

It would seem a mother, the person that holds the pieces together isn’t allowed to have any anxietys or worries. And that each day u should just continue to carry on and be told to look at all the postitive things and be thankful for them.

What’s funny is I’ve never once not appreciated what I have in my life, so why is it we are not allowed to feel without being accused of being selfish or ungrateful. People often wonder why people have to suffer in silence, but there is still so much negativity around mental health and how people should feel.

I knew how I felt wasn’t exactly “normal”, but I masked it for a while trying to put a brave face on. Each day my anxietys grew and I found something new to worry about surrounding me and the kids. Each day my worries becoming more and more irrational. I would watch social media clips about parents dying from cancer etc, and it would stem my worries more and at night my brain wouldn’t switch off.

I also had constant flashbacks of Jessica’s birth, and being on the operating table and some days I felt like I was living a reoccurring nightmare. I can still Picture everything about her surgery so vividly and it constantly caused me to be upset and anxious.

One day I decided enough was enough, not only could I not cope anymore with the thoughts I also thought, I should be enjoying my time with my children without these worries.

So I contacted my mental health service and started the process of regaining my life again. I knew what had stemmed this anxiety, it was the birth of harry and Jessica and how traumatic each of them was. That showed me how easily things can change, I went in to hospital expecting a nice Normal caesarean procedure with Jessica especially after what happened with harry, and it didn’t happen that way for me. And in that moment I saw the panic on my partners face and heard the tears from my mother on the phone franticky awaiting news about what had happened and why it took so long. It was in them moments I knew I took things for granted. My doctor has said I am suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome, and that it had caused these anxiety’s to flare up and for me to worry about death and any harm coming to the children. Although I felt relieved to be taken seriously, I also knew this was just the start and I had a long way to go.

After talking to the mental health team. They also picked up on how much lone responsibility I felt for the kids. It’s true I do, I’ve looked after  harry full time for 2 years, and Now I have my gorgeous daughter too. So I’ve grown to know their quirks, their fears and their loves. And with all these qualities comes huge pressure on myself being able to do this job 24/7 with no day off. 

Although I have the support of my partner, the days are long and each day brings a new challenge especially with the kids being so close in age. So it was that realisation that made me think “you can never leave them”, “who would care for them like you do”.

Talking to the mental health team, made me realise it is quite normal and some what expected of me to feel like this. From what tends to be a beautiful memory for some expectant mothers, can also leave some tainted memories for others. What’s more is no one really shares the bad ones so openly, because the birth of a life should be that one magical time.

And both times for me, all I can relive is the negative moments. Down to the last detail, I remember it all. So many times when I have visited the GP or hospital and they read my notes I have so many comments. After harry I had these comments “wow bless you, what an ordeal I bet you won’t have any more”. “Wow you really sampled all our maternity unit has to offer, I’ve never seen notes like it”.

When pregnant with Jessica “wow you braved it to have another, bet you opting for a section this time”.

“Wow surprised your having any more”.

After Jessica “oh my word you really have been through it all”, “you really are just unlucky ain’t you”.

And so on and so on. With each comment came another flashback I didn’t need. And another feeling of guilt for my prefect births I didn’t have.

So hearing the mental health team, tell me it’s ok to feel how I do. It was a weight lifted, I’m Not going to lie I felt if I opened up they would say I’m crazy and take the kids. It’s why i put it off for so long. Thinking they would say I’m an unstable mother.

But boy how wrong was I, Angela (part of the mental health team). Made me feel like a human again, her tone and her approach was such a comfort and her words were so sincere. Not only did she say she couldn’t believe the ordeal I had, was shocked I hadn’t had any help sooner. She promised me she would rush my case through so I could “enjoy my children and not worry”.

And she didn’t let me down, After a long teary phone call, within 2 days I had a letter to say my counselling sessions start in 2 weeks time. I’m beyond grateful to her, and I’m positive this will be the help I need. My partner is in full support for this, and says although he was there with me throughout each. He saw first hand how traumatic it was but cannot imagine what I must feel.

If your reading this, and my words you could of wrote yourself. I urge you to seek support, don’t feel alone. Sometimes just knowing someone else is going through the same makes it easier for you to deal with. I’m so glad I spoke out, sometimes births don’t always go to plan. But it doesn’t mean you have to suffer with the memories forever. Or feel guilty for feeling that way either, there is so much pressure on ladies to have a natural uncomplicated birth, and we are made to feel almost inadequate if we can’t achieve it. But I don’t want to feel guilty or anxious any longer. Sometimes some of us don’t want to remember the birth or reminisce over it, or give our birth story to everyone who asks us, we just need help to make the bad memories of it fade a little.

Just remember Not all births are textbook! 💕

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Who said 3s a crowd!!

Hey it’s been a while, so thought while both kids are asleep, with thanks to you immunisations means I’ll get a solid 10 hours at least. They always seem to knock jessica out, only another 4 weeks till my next full nighters lol!.

But anyway I thought I would do a blog post of our journey so far, I’d like to say it’s been a breeze but no one can quite prepare you for life with 2 kiddies. The emotions you go through and the stuff you deal with, would seriously make a bush tucker trial look tame. 

Let me explain, just today jessica decided to do a massive post immunisation poo, so while I am changing her bum on the floor. My son deems this the perfect moment to jump on mummy’s back to ride the horsey, so in doing this he has pushed my face closer to the war zone and the ends of my hair have now touched the poop and now I’m sporting some lovely korma colour streaks in my hair. Whilst proceeding to turn round and tell him “not at the minute harry” whilst  trying not to open my mouth to much incase the poopy ends go in my mouth. Now I know why the mum bun is such a good idea. 

Yay for motherhood..it definitely is a mix emotions of love, tears and serious grossness. My little team have also managed to sync there poos at the same time too, how I have no idea but when one goes so does the other. 

Most people when I told them I was pregnant thought I must be mad, as they would be quite a close age gap. I never expected it to be easy, but the good days definitely are now starting to outweigh the bad. When jessica was first born, I really struggled with trying to split my time between the 2, so harry didn’t feel left out but so jessica also still got cuddles and just wasn’t in her Moses basket 24/7. It took my son 4 weeks to realise that this home invader  as here to stay, and those 4 weeks were tough. He cried, I cried and no amount of encouragement or comfort would make him accept it, and then suddenly everything just clicked into place. He woke up one morning and gave me a kiss as he always does and then gave her one. And at that point I realised we hadn’t had another baby to quick. I never ever would regret jessica, she is precious, just incase this next bit is misinterpreted but in those hard 4 weeks we both had that feeling of “what the hell have we done”. Going from 1 to 2 was quite a shock to the system, and with harry not accepting it made it even harder. He started to resent me a little, he wasn’t centre of attention anymore and he had to learn to split mummy with his sister. There were days where I would stand in the kitchen crying while eating some custard creams (nice Bridget jones kinda image there lol), as I thought my son hated me. I can probably guarantee that most mummies of young children, who have a sibling come along have felt the same. It was almost like the saying “3 is definitely a crowd”. Once I managed to maintain a balance of sharing my time between the 2, the custard creams moments became less and things became a lot easier. And harry began to love his sister as I hoped he would, and the self doubt I had seemed to fade too. I suddenly felt like I was winning at life, and both loddoes actually are starting to love each other. Harry’s become a devoted big brother, he runs her head when she cries, he runs his cars over head whilst shouting broom broom (because obviously she isn’t older enough to play yet lol so that’s the next best thing), and he enjoys having cuddles with both of us on the sofa. But most importantly they both get there own cuddles and time with me too. 

I’m not saying all days are easy, we still have our bad days but now I cry into a celery stick, to many calories In custard cream lol. But we’re all learning to adapt still.

But I definitely love my little brood, they make the days worth getting up for.  Well that’s when I’ve managed some sleep lol! 💕 

Jessica’s birth

Jessica’s birth didn’t go exactly how I wanted it too. In fact it went spectacularly wrong, what was meant to be a “less complicated/stressful birth”. Turned into my complete idea of hell, with only one positive outcome the safe arrival of my little girl. 

My pregnancy  with Jessica was far from easy in the beginning, I had blood loss, threatened ruptured cysts and not a very positive outlook on the pregnancy continuing from my consultant. But despite all this she was a fighter my little clinger, and all was good from this point on up until 36 weeks. 

During a rountine growth scan, it was detected, I had extra pieces of placenta present. Although I had the main placenta feeding jessica, I also had numerous other parts of placenta in my womb and all of these generating there own blood supply.  The consultant said he hadnt seen a case like mine for few years, its normal/sometimes common to have maybe 1 extra piece. But I had numerous all around jessica, and my placenta was low lying so if I went into labour naturally, I would hemorage so I was told a planned c-section was the best course of action for the safety of both of us.

 At first I was upset by this news, as after a traumatic labour with Harry. I longed to go naturally this time, and have a much less traumatic experience. But my consultant assured me that a planned c-section will be less stressful and gave me a list of pros for it. My partner also urged me to take the consultants advice especially after hearing about me hemorraging, I don’t think he could handle another traumatic birth himself and just wanted me and jessica to be safe. Deep down I knew they were right, it was just hard accepting and also putting myself though another section. Especially after the last one I still haven’t quite got over mentally. 

But I won’t bore you with my mental thoughts….

So Fast forward to the day of the planned section, I dropped my son off at my mums for the day, and me and darren made our way to hospital we were told to be there for 7.30am. Once we arrived we were met by midwifes who took my stats, and went through the procedure for the day. Another lady was also Having a planned section the same day, and she was going for hers first due to her diabetes and sugar levels needed stabilising. 

They explained I would go down to theatre about 11.30am, and a anethestist would come see me and run through what would happen in theatre. Still now I remember him saying “there is a 1 in 100 chance of this happening, a 1 in 500 chance of this happening”. All seemed really good statistics as I signed the consent form and was walked over to theatre. 

Once I had been prepped and my spinal block put in, it was 12.00pm and I was laid flat on the table with the screen up under my breasts and darren was told to come in. As I saw him walk in and sat down to hold my hand I instantly felt calm, I knew I had made the right decision as he seemed so much more relaxed this time which helped me relax. At 12.10pm they started my c-section and by 12.36pm Jessica was born, I still Remember her cries as they lifted her out and over the screen. I instantly started crying as they took her over to dry her off and weigh her etc, but then my tears turned to dread as the consultant said. “We have a problem, we seem to of caught (sliced) your bladder during the surgery and so inturn urine was leaking into my abdomen cavity”. I started to panic and the consultant ordered a midwife to page urology to come quickly to fix it. 

The next 10 minutes seemed to feel like forever, as they were waiting for the urologist to arrive. No one would tell us the extent of the damage and all I could hear was my babies cry as she wanted my milk. As I turned to look at darren he had instantly turned slightly paler in colour, as again our “calm delivery” wasn’t as planned.

As the urologist arrived, we heard them discussing over the curtain what had happened. Then the urologist explained to me I would need surgery to repair my bladder and it had to be carried out now..Whilst I was still awake. I felt instantly numb as I had already endured nearly and hour of being awake, during my section but to now have further surgery whilst still awake wasn’t what I mentally prepared myself for. They decided to lay jessica on my chest to calm her down, and to try and occupy me. But as I kissed her head, all I could think of was what was happening behind the screen. 

During the repair although I couldn’t feel any pain…yet. I could feel every pull/tug and I started to feel queasy. By now I had endured nearly 2 hours of surgery whilst awake, and as I tearfully croaked “how much longer” they replied another 2 hours roughly followed by “your doing incredible well Melanie”. Luckily jessica had managed to settle/ fall asleep in my chest. But darren was frantically trying not to look over the screen as it started to slip down, so him sitting at level height with it could see over the screen and I could see some fear in his eyes. Although he kept reassuring me it would be ok, I felt mentally drained. By now it was another hour gone by and the anaesthetist said “we really need to speed up guys as the spinal only last 3 hours”. As I started to panic, they discussed trying to put me to sleep but it was to late to the finish and by the time I was sedated the surgery would nearly be over. But then 10 minutes later I could feel pain..pain like I cannot describe to anyone and as I started to cry and look at darren he instantly knew. I remember him saying ” you can feel it can’t you?” As I nodded to him, to scared to open my mouth as I was trying to stay strong but the pain was getting unbearable. He quickly told them and they started to panic and frantically find what they could administer to me to numb the pain. They topped my drip up with some sort of drug, but it was more to relax me then to numb the pain. And they told me only 10 minutes left Mel. By now I had darren holding my hand, and trying to relax me and the anaesthetist stroking my hair (no joke).  But I could feel them pulling my skin back together, it’s a pain and feeling I don’t think I’ll ever be able to describe. By now I was in shock my tears had dried and I was just lying on the table numb, although they had finished my surgery and  repaired my bladder I was in complete shock. 

Everyone in theatre praised me for dealing with it, but even now I don’t know how on earth I survived it. Once in recovery I had spent a total of 4 hours in surgery the whole time awake. But as I was handed jessica to hold in my arms I just broke down, I couldn’t get over how my planned section could go spectacularly wrong. As they explained what happened to me, I just fazed out unable to listen. Darren took it all in, asking if there was any long term effects but they were unsure untill I had recovered fully. 

I was told I would need a catheter for the next 10 days to let my bladder heal, and a camera procedure to check if my bladder was fully functioning. From these points on it would be a case of more follow up appointments to check on my bladder.


So where am I now?..although recovery is slow and I’ve only just had my catheter out, I still am experiencing problems and I’m unsure what will happen. I’m currently focusing on being the best mummy to my 2 little monsters and feel incredibly blessed to have them. I think mentally I am going to need some counselling for what I endured during the surgery, as that is something I don’t think I’ll be able to get over easily.  Especially as I can still remeber that pain every time I mention it. 

But for now I’m taking each day as it comes 💕

My baby body & me

(photo taken at 31 weeks pregnant with little miss)

So as I approach the final countdown to meet my little miss, I thought I would share my baby body hang ups over last few months.

It began when I was pregnant with my son, I never knew what to expect with my ever growing belly and body. One thing I definitely didn’t want was stretch marks although I managed to not get any noticeable ones on my belly, my legs and hips did take the blunt of it. Although I still managed to make an effort from the waist up to do my make-up and hair each day. I still felt a little insecure at my ever changing body and the pressure to be a glowing yummy mum, besides stretch marks fade but don’t disappear. But with every passing day brought new things to focus on. One day would be my puffy fat feet, the next my fuller face and nose, my wobbly thighs etc I think you get the point. I didn’t just blame my little boy for the demise of my body, I think we have all been guilty of saying “oh it’s because of you mummy is wobbly and has these marks”. I also blamed myself for over eating and at times being lazy and not exercising enough to try and help myself. With my son I gained just over 3 stone during the pregnancy, and I felt ashamed in myself for doing this.

But this time round I vowed not to let myself get as big like that again, I promised I would embrace my body and not be scared to show off my ever changing figure. But I was lying to myself, I think it helped that I carried mostly through winter this time so it’s easy to hide under baggy jumpers and coats not having to show off your belly/arms/ and legs. Plus having a toddler running around and wanting days out at the park etc,  was all the exercise I needed to help me stay on track and not rest and gain to much. I even remember saying to people “I think Im carrying better this time, I don’t think I’m as big”. I had such a negative view on my previous baby body, that I was putting pressure on myself to try and be a glam/glowing mummy to be this time. I think having such a negative view on my past baby body, gave others the right (or so they assumed) to have there say on my previous baby bod. Here is just a few things I’ve had said so far but trust me there is alot more” oh your arms definitely are not as fat this time”, “your mainly bump this time last time you were spread all over your hips and thighs”. “Your face isn’t as fat this time have you noticed that”. I could go on but I think you get the point by now. I think the comment that hurt the most was from my partner his ” oh you definitely didn’t carry very well with Harry darling, you did get quite big and well you know…fat”. It seemed he deemed it ok to have his input too after listening to everybody else have there say on my past baby body, afterall they seemed to get away with saying it so why couldn’t he?. Which did hurt as he told me throughout how beautiful I still was to him. Which was obviously partly a lie to me now, as now his true thoughts/feelings had come out.

All my efforts every morning of trying to glam myself up, to make me feel human and also still attractive to him we’re pretty pointless so it seemed. As you can’t just dab a bit of make-up on and look incredible to everyone, even your loved ones.

So fast forward to this pregnancy and how do I feel?…pretty much the same. Except no one tries to compliment you and your baby body.

It would seem once you have already had a baby before, the need to hear compliments is old news to you. I mean you have already been there and done that, so there is no need to try and boost your confidence instead you already knew what your were letting yourself in for. All they wanted to do Is to..pass judgment on your previous baby body compared to now, and to tell you “bet you can’t wait to get fat feet & face again can you?” But to you it’s that need for reassurance you are still beautiful despite how you may feel. Even my partner hasn’t tried to compliment me, it seems I know what I am letting myself in for from last time an the need to boost my confidence isn’t needed as I won’t stay like this forever. I mean you will slim back down after the baby right and not let yourself go..right?.

So as I try to embrace my body this time, it’s clear from the photo above both me and you are already noticing the scars and cellulite on my thighs. (It’s ok, I know we are all guilty as humans of picking faults before we see the rest it’s part of our nature).  But this is the first full length underwear photo I have taken this pregnancy and last, and even before I set the camera timer. I had already picked at my body with a fine tooth comb, the deep stretch marks across my thighs ran like roads across a map. The cellulite is thick & bumpy an no matter how much you pat it down it won’t go flat, my hips have tiger stripes either side & my breasts are no longer a set of perky twins. But why take a photo? Because I would never of  had the gut to do it last time and bare all my flaws to everyone, but this time I felt if I’m feeling how I do 2nd time round. Then I can guarantee there is someone feeling the same too. Who has already picked at their body with a fine tooth comb, And has lacked any confidence or uplifting compliments on their ever changing body’s. And for me this is the last baby, so the last time I will need to embrace my changing baby bod.  Its also important for me to show my daughter that we all have imperfections & flaws we have about ourselves any other photo can show that. But we shouldn’t need to rely on other people to boost our confidence, we should learn to love our own bodies before needing acceptance of others as sometimes you may not get it. That includes my son too, as it isn’t just women who can have body hang ups.

So here I am, I can’t say how I will embrace my after-baby body especially after 2 littles ones so close together in age. But I know I won’t allow myself to blame them as part of the reason I have body issues even if it is in jest. They are my miracles I grew, every part of them is etched onto my skin somehow and without them I wouldn’t be me..I wouldn’t be mummy. These marks will no doubt last longer then any photo ever would, they are my personal reminders that I should love how I look. 💕


Never give up hope! 

So by the time you are reading this, I will be a few months into my pregnancy. I found out I was expecting our 2nd miracle on the 15th October 2016. Shocked was an under statement, I hadn’t expected to be pregnant quite as quick as we anticipated. 

Back after I had my son in 2015, I had follow up appointments with our fertility consultant. They had told me that my Poly cystic ovary syndrome had got worse, and the likely hood of my conceiving naturally were low. They also had mentioned how it would probably take me just as long, to fall pregnant as it did with my son. Which was roughly about 2-3 years, knowing this we decided that we wouldn’t apply as much pressure to ourselves this time. And instead just go with the flow, in the hope we would fall naturally in our own time. When we were trying to conceive our son tensions were high and our relationship at times became very strained due to the pressure. We knew that with a 1 year old, we wouldn’t be able to put that pressure on ourselves again. It was important for us to be  a strong family unit. And I didn’t want this to create a wedge between us. 

So we decided to start actively trying after our son turned 1, so you can imagine our surprise when nearly 1 month after his birthday (sept 22nd), we found out I was pregnant. We were both so thrilled and anxious as we hadn’t quite anticipated it taking such a short amount of time. I was worried about the age gap between them, and how I would cope. But regardless of my fears, this was our 2nd blessing and a to us meant the world. 

After I had my son I embarked on my weight loss mission, and lost 3 stone. I think this had helped in increasing our fertility, and ensured I was in the best possible shape. It obviously worked as I actually weighed less this time, then I did when I fell pregnant with my son. So I had hoped this would increase my chances of having a healthy pregnancy and a natural birth. 

When I was 5 weeks pregnant, I had cramps and began to bleed. I feared the worst and after a trip to the our of hours doctor. I was sent to A&E due to having a high temperature and my blood pressure being high. They worried that due to having PCOS, that my chances of the baby being an eptopic pregnancy were quite high. They took my bloods and monitored me for 4 hours, my temperature and blood pressure had come down. So they sent me home, and put me on bed rest but I had to come back in 2 days for a scan to assess where the baby was. To be honest they hadn’t filled me with any hope and told us to prepare for the worst outcome. When I conceived my son I was taking metformin to help, reduce my chances of miscarriage. This drug is often given to women who have PCOS. But I hadn’t been given it this time, and they told me there wasn’t much point in me taking it now as it wouldn’t make any difference. 

The journey home was quiet between me and my partner neither one of us dared to speak, as I got home and into bed. I wished for the next day to hurry up and pass. 

The day of the scan came and I was still having cramps and slight bleeding, they performed an ultrasound and could detect that our baby wasn’t ectopic. and that the bleeding they belived to be coming from a cyst on my right ovary. As a sense of relief washed over me, the midwife carrying out the ultrasound said “we are still not classing it as viable yet, we will need to see a presence of a heartbeat in a weeks time”. “You know due to having PCOS , it increases your chances of miscarriage”. As those words rung in my head, I felt  the sense of relief quickly turn into dread and dispair. Why do they feel the need to keep telling me this, I already know!!. It seemed no one had much hope for my pregnancy. 

For the next week I tried to remain positive, with each bout of morning sickness I felt that it must still be a good sign. But I was still spotting and had persistent cramps on my right side. I kept telling myself it was probably due to the cyst but even I started to doubt my own diagnosis. Especially with the statistics for this pregnancy being low. My son kept me busy and I knew I had to remain calm for his and my partners sake as well as my own. 

On the day of the scan I hadn’t known what to expect, all i hoped for was that the baby had a hearatbeat and I would be another step closer to reaching the 12 week Mark. The same midwife who had previously scanned me, was the one performing this ultrasound to. As she scanned me she was quick to point out the tiny flicker of a heartbeat, and it was at that Moment that tears began to run down my cheek. She told me that some Women do happen to spot and bleed in pregnancy, and that most do go onto have a healthy pregnancy. But I still shouldn’t rule out the chance of a miscarriage. 

Knowing this gave me some comfort, and I was 7 weeks exactly on the date of scan. I just longed for itto speed up to get to the 12 week mark. 

But by week 9 the spotting has turned to bleeding and I decided to speak to my doctor. I really wish I never visited him that day, as he told me again that having PCOS meant I had a higher chance of miscarriage. As well as the fact I wasn’t taking metformin, This I already knew but he said “I’m sorry but you are having a threatened miscarriage, I don’t know what you quite expect me to do. There isn’t anything I can do to stop that, you will just have to wait and see what happens but being here won’t change anything”. I never expected it to change anything I just expected him to try and calm my fears, maybe give me some good statistics and give me a nicer reason as to why I maybe be bleeding. 

So from 9 weeks to my 12 week scan, felt like an eternity and on the day of our scan I was completely surprised to see our little miracle all safe and sound. The bleeding had eventually eased off at 11 weeks, and they still put this down to a cyst on my right ovary. 

So that brings us up to now, I’m currently 18’weeks and expecting a baby girl. I feel incredibly bleesed to be having our little miracle, and the struggle in the first few weeks although was hard and upsetting. Has made me love her even more, she so far has defied a lot of odds stacked again me. Including our fertility consultant, who is still completely amazed she is thriving. 

I often wonder how may other ladies are in the same situation, with the same odds and I really hope they never give up. Or take what the doctors and consultants say as gospel, as my little miracle is proof that even they can get it wrong. 💕

1 year already…wow!

So this handsome devil is 1, although it was always inevitable he would turn one I was still in self denial…why? Maybe because these last few weeks it’s almost like I’ve seen the physical change from a baby to a toddler, I mean he isn’t as squishy and light to carry around anymore, by squishy I mean he far to keen to explore then cuddle mummy. Each week he is discovering something new and it still seems to baffle me “how the hell he learnt that so quick”. 

I have been lucky with Harry though as I have had to look after him soley on my own for 8 months, with my partner working away all week and only home weekends. Some may not say lucky some may say unfortunate but it meant 8 months of bedtime stories that I didn’t have to share, 8 months of midnight cuddles when he couldn’t sleep. I think you get the gist but it also had its downside too. Every milestone he achieved I witnessed it alone, I had to keep silent until my partner came home, and at times I pretended it was the first time he did it. As I didn’t want him to feel like he was always missing out on his life when after all he was working to support ours. 

But what I found the most hardest was the evenings, the alone time when I couldn’t bare the load of the stressful day I may of had and just wanted to rant about how Harry may have thrown his dinner  across the floor on purpose or refused to allow me out of his sight for one second. The bitterness I felt towards my partner for the “baby free nights” he was enjoying, or more the social life he had compared to mine left a horrible sting in my tail. It’s almost like I could foresee my bitterness as soon as I asked the dreaded question in our texts “what are you upto this evening?”, I didn’t know why I bothered asking at times I think I liked to annoy myself. Now before people think I’m unreasonable I know he is entitled to enjoy himself, it’s more the fact i had almost forgotten what it was like to be anyone other then mum. During the day I saw my other mummy friends and I enjoyed our mummy play dates, but in the evenings once he was abed i had no company and no adult conversation. It’s almost liked I longed to be batman and have adventure at night under a differ alias..just kidding but I really did want just an adult conversation without a little boy screaming “mama” at me for the 100th time. 

When the weekends came it was filled with “family time” during the day and my partner wanted to have one night together which was only Saturday as he left again Sunday! And arrived home late Friday evenings. Although I was usually far to tired to enjoy anyone other the a takeaway and half a film, I know my partner was a little grumpy about it because we didn’t have much “us” time. But lacked the understanding of how exhausted i was after looking after our son all week and no matter how mush effort I put in to trying to be enthustaic to our “us” time it wasn’t always easy. This created a slight wedge between us as I often dreaded his return incase I wasn’t exciting enough or enthustaic enough to be around. I think at times he felt like he was dating an 80 year old woman. And he use to say “gone out the days we use to stay up late” “cor your like an old woman going bed at 9pm”. But although he joked I could tell there was a sense of truth and announce behind it. 

I figured it was due to the fact maybe his work collegues were younger and had much more thrilling weekends then we did, and maybe by Monday they asked “how was your weekend”, and he probably thought i was quite boring because we lacked any conversation or closeness he would come home and I would be in my comfy joggers maybe sporting the odd but of snot or sick on it, This affected me as I saw so many other mummies and parents in general, going out and enjoying themselves and having date nights I wondered if we would ever have that again. I wondered why he never asked to spend time alone with me by that I mean date nights with out our son. We had a A couple nights out together over the 8 months for wedding and parties we had to attend, but not just some us time with a meal or a cinema date. I feared he thought i wasn’t the person he met before as I descended into a dull sleepy character. But what do women do best just keep it bottled up and slowly let it eat away at us rather then asking the men outright. I think part of me feared the answer he may say,  but eventually after a couple of months I had a mini breakdown and spilled all of my feelings out after a good old glass of wine. (I mean I can blame wine right for my outburst), I told him how I felt like a boring old lady, I asked him why he didn’t want to spend time alone, I told him I forgot what it was like to be anything other then mummy and most of all forgot what it was like to be a couple.

To say he was surprised by it all would be an understatement, I think he knew it was coming but he also knew how to respond. He told me “why would I want to spend anytime alone when we only have 1 day as a family together, I want to spend it with you both”.  “I don’t find you boring I just think being a parent has changed us BOTH”. ” I think being away all week means we have to work harder to keep us connected”, “and once in home you can enjoy going out a few nights in the week and enjoy being you and not just mummy”. deep Down I knew all of it was right but I also wanted him just to say “your still you though”, but he was right things had changed and with each new month brougt a new challenge in our relationship or a new  struggle we are yet to overcome. By that I mean the midnight calls of a restless baby makes any quality intimacy or cuddling near in impossible. Or the constant illness that makes 2 sharing a bed turn into 3. Having a 1 year old is the best form of contraception there is to be honest, but what I’ve learnt the most is it takes teamwork to make it work and to keep the spark Alive. 

So where are we now..well after a much needed family holiday, it gave me and my partner the opportunity to spend some us time without any distractions. We had no wifi in the caravan which meant no internet on our phones to distract us with Harry doing to bed at 6pm. It left a good few hours of us time and without any household distractions such as the washing or cleaning to do. And do you know what I discovered and do you know what I discovered were actually quite both boring and I think we need our own little individual time to be who we are to have any sort of individual personality other then parents. So now with my partner being home I have some free time To be me again..but what do I choose to do? That’s a good question as I don’t like the old stuff I use to or should I say I’ve forgotten what it was I liked to do. But I guess the fun is in finding out..💕

It’s been a while 

So it’s been a while since my last post, so I guessed it was time to post and update  with what’s been going on and my weightloss journey. 

Well my current weightloss sits at 2 and a half stone! I still have 1 stone to go but, I took a month off dieting and although it was nice to relax and eat some rubbish. I could notice the change in my overall mood and I felt sluggish, but funny enough considering I took a month off. I only put on 3lbs, I think it was mainly because I was exercising the dog 2x a day and now running around after a very active baby. But in my head I just had enough of dieting, and lost my way a bit as I just didn’t feel like I wanted to keep syning things and watching what I was eating when I went out to meet friends. Top this with a baby that’s sleep routine was broken and also he was very ill at one stage, so it was a way to comfort myself with junk food rather then healthy food and while it gave my that 5 minutes of comfort it wasn’t helping my mood and how I felt about myself. But the thing that snapped me out of that, was thinking about all the upcoming events we have and how I don’t want to feel uncomfortable in my clothes. 

The biggest thing is our upcoming haven holiday, where we will be swimming everyday and I’m fed up of wearing my tankini in the pool and constantly pulling it down to hide my stretch marks and flabby belly. The last time i had the guts to wear a bikini was back in February, when my partner took me away for a romantic spa break. It was him saying go for it it’s better then that bloody tankini, but I did feel self conscious and uncomfortable and I am determined to not feel the same this time. I want to just enjoy our holiday and feel comfortable. So here’s where i am at now; 


There isn’t a lot of difference although now I have lost some more weight, you can see the prominent separation in my stomach muscles on my belly on the right hand side. I’m not as “flabby” although my belly is still slack. But I’m glad I have kept all my previous photos to actually compare and see how far I’ve come. I’ve been dieting now for 8 months, and it’s been a hard journey. It definitely is harder to shed the baby weight then normal weight, I would hope that by the year mark I can achieve the extra stone I need to loose the last bit of my weight. 

I’m determined and focused again, and my little boy is enjoying eating the meals I’m cooking. I can’t promise I  may go off track again, I think it depends on if im having a good week an what I’m doing. But I definitely have my holiday on sight and would like to be able to eat what I want on holiday, so I’m going to try to  stick to plan until then.