This post has been an honour to write.
A lullaby in remembrance of a darling baby girl. Matilda Mae.
A lullaby for her lovely Mummy Jennie. Her very brave Mummy.
A lullaby for her family.
A lullaby for all families affected by SIDS.
A lullaby - to let them know I care.
I'm linking up with Jennies blog amongst other bloggers to promote awareness for The Lullaby Trust (formally FSID).
A Lullaby sung to the tune of 'Hush little Baby (Mockingbird)'
Sweet darling baby,
Please don't cry,
We are only waving,
The day goodbye.
Sweet darling baby,
Sleep now sleep,
As I rock you now,
You count those sheep.
Sweet darling baby,
close your eyes,
Come listen to,
Tilda Mae's lullabies.
Sweet darling baby,
Just let sleep in,
Close your eyes,
And dreams begin.
Sweet darling baby,
I'll hold you near,
Sleep little one,
I'll be right here.
Sweet darling baby,
Just one more yawn,
I'll be with you,
Until the dawn.
Sweet darling baby,
I love you so,
Just hold my hand,
And don't let go.
Sweet darling baby,
Just one more kiss,
Then dream away,
In sleepy bliss.
Sweet darling baby,
Close your eyes,
Come listen to,
Tilda Mae's lullabies.
Love till next time - L&L x x
Wednesday, 10 April 2013
Friday, 5 April 2013
Love and War.
This has been a post that has been in the pipeline for a while. I have sat and pondered on how to go about it. I have written and re-written and written again. This post is a break from tradition, it isn't about parenting or Dee or about my life at all. It's about a love that spans continents, a love that has, quite literally, survived a war.
About a year ago some very brave non-professional singing women and a rather lovely choir master released a song. A song about love, about war, about trust, about bravery and about sacrifice. From the moment I heard it, it stirred something in me, the words were so beautiful that whenever it came on the radio I would stop what I was doing and simply - listened. You know the song.
At first, I couldn't quite put my finger on why it touched me so. Why I went to download it, why I looked up the lyrics, why I cried at their beauty.
And then, I realised. My friend, my good friend has probably felt every single one of those words as if she herself had written them.
My friend, who shall remain nameless, is married to a soldier in the British Army. At this very moment he is in Afghanistan fighting and working and helping and doing more than I could ever do.
For the last seven years, whilst he has been away (periodically), my friend has sat alone. She has waited, she has dreaded phone calls and knocks on doors. She hasn't watched the news. She has sent packages of food and treats. She has spent Christmases and birthdays and anniversaries without him. She has written. She has prayed. She has welcomed him home. She has loved. She has been braver than I could ever be.
Last summer she married her soldier and I have never felt more proud to be associated with people who are truly: brave. Both of them, him for serving this country and her for allowing him to do so.
Sacrifices have been made on both parts but on that lovely day in June, there was no thought of war - just happiness and love.
I read countless blogs and tweets (mine too!) that complain and moan and criticise. I feel foolish for complaining, for believing that my life is sometimes dull or hard. I don't think I have ever once heard my friend complain that her life away from her husband is hard. She never moans about being hard done-to. She just accepts and supports and believes.
Her husbands returns home in a few short weeks. My friend is planning a party, a celebration, a thank you. Thank you for being brave, Thank you for doing unspeakable things, Thank you for helping to keep our country safe and free, so that we are able to go about our daily lives in our oblivious manner.
To all soldiers, thank you.
I pray for his safe passage, that he returns to us happy and healthy. That he returns to her.
About a year ago some very brave non-professional singing women and a rather lovely choir master released a song. A song about love, about war, about trust, about bravery and about sacrifice. From the moment I heard it, it stirred something in me, the words were so beautiful that whenever it came on the radio I would stop what I was doing and simply - listened. You know the song.
At first, I couldn't quite put my finger on why it touched me so. Why I went to download it, why I looked up the lyrics, why I cried at their beauty.
And then, I realised. My friend, my good friend has probably felt every single one of those words as if she herself had written them.
My friend, who shall remain nameless, is married to a soldier in the British Army. At this very moment he is in Afghanistan fighting and working and helping and doing more than I could ever do.
For the last seven years, whilst he has been away (periodically), my friend has sat alone. She has waited, she has dreaded phone calls and knocks on doors. She hasn't watched the news. She has sent packages of food and treats. She has spent Christmases and birthdays and anniversaries without him. She has written. She has prayed. She has welcomed him home. She has loved. She has been braver than I could ever be.
Last summer she married her soldier and I have never felt more proud to be associated with people who are truly: brave. Both of them, him for serving this country and her for allowing him to do so.
Sacrifices have been made on both parts but on that lovely day in June, there was no thought of war - just happiness and love.
I read countless blogs and tweets (mine too!) that complain and moan and criticise. I feel foolish for complaining, for believing that my life is sometimes dull or hard. I don't think I have ever once heard my friend complain that her life away from her husband is hard. She never moans about being hard done-to. She just accepts and supports and believes.
Her husbands returns home in a few short weeks. My friend is planning a party, a celebration, a thank you. Thank you for being brave, Thank you for doing unspeakable things, Thank you for helping to keep our country safe and free, so that we are able to go about our daily lives in our oblivious manner.
To all soldiers, thank you.
I pray for his safe passage, that he returns to us happy and healthy. That he returns to her.
May the stars shine all around you,
May your courage never cease.
Love till next time - L&L xx
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQ7f4lV3e0c
Holding on.
This is the hardest post I have or will ever write. It's physical equivalent is running down a busy high street on a Saturday, absolutely starkers. It's allowing everyone (everyone...) to see the parts of you that you aren't proud of, parts of you that you have kept hidden away.
I need to talk about it here. I need to get it out in the open and say to you all - Yes, here I am, this is me.
This has been 10 years in the making and it took having a baby to bring it out in the open.
Of course, I'm talking about depression.
I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I don't want you to look at me like there is something wrong. I just want you to understand. I need you to understand.
I've had a hard few weeks. Hard and dark and scary and hellish. I feel so incredibly selfish, knowing what others have and are going through (believe me, I think of them all the time). But sometimes all you can see is the complete emptiness of your own existence, its the only thing that makes sense.
I know I'm talking in riddles. However, I don't want to go into details, none of you reading this need to know the reasons why, but I hope sometimes, when I'm having a bad day, I can come on here and vent and you will understand.
Mental illness is a funny one. It's not a broken leg, you can't see it and sympathise. You can't rub it and make it better or even stick a plaster over it. It's something that takes time to get over and finally, after so many years of feeling alone, I am finally facing up to my demons and doing something about it.
I am so lucky to have such amazing friends and family. A husbandsuperman who holds me up the best he can when I feel like I am sinking under the weight of life. A daughter who brings me more joy than she will ever know, she is my reason, she is all of my reasons. And friends, such amazing, beautiful, loving, un-selfish friends who have helped me these past weeks, who, even in my darkest hours have held my hand and shown me the pinprick of light at the end of what seems like an endless tunnel. You know who you are and how much I love you.
I promise to keep these posts to a minimum - nobody likes a whiner.
I just felt an explanation was needed about my sometimes sad and muddled words.
Love till next time - L&L x x
I need to talk about it here. I need to get it out in the open and say to you all - Yes, here I am, this is me.
This has been 10 years in the making and it took having a baby to bring it out in the open.
Of course, I'm talking about depression.
I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I don't want you to look at me like there is something wrong. I just want you to understand. I need you to understand.
I've had a hard few weeks. Hard and dark and scary and hellish. I feel so incredibly selfish, knowing what others have and are going through (believe me, I think of them all the time). But sometimes all you can see is the complete emptiness of your own existence, its the only thing that makes sense.
I know I'm talking in riddles. However, I don't want to go into details, none of you reading this need to know the reasons why, but I hope sometimes, when I'm having a bad day, I can come on here and vent and you will understand.
Mental illness is a funny one. It's not a broken leg, you can't see it and sympathise. You can't rub it and make it better or even stick a plaster over it. It's something that takes time to get over and finally, after so many years of feeling alone, I am finally facing up to my demons and doing something about it.
I am so lucky to have such amazing friends and family. A husband
I promise to keep these posts to a minimum - nobody likes a whiner.
I just felt an explanation was needed about my sometimes sad and muddled words.
Love till next time - L&L x x
Listography.
So, after a few, hard, painful silent weeks, I have returned. I will explain the hows and whys of my short blogging absence in another post. But to ease be back in, I am doing a Listography post to linky up with another lovely blog - Kate takes 5.
I have never done this before so please bear with me.
The theme of Kate's Listography post : 5 Things that are better than One Direction. Things that your children are yet to learn about the world.
Here are mine for Dee:
1. The first time you really find something you LOVE to do. Finding horse riding was a revelation for me. I was never particularly good at sports at school - always being last to be picked for anything (groan, sigh). However, soon after my first riding lesson, I knew I had fallen in love with something I was finally good at. I hope you find something that fills you with as much joy and fulfilment.
2. First Love. Beautiful, irrational and more often than not, short-lived. However, it's the sort of irrationality that I would never want you to miss out on.
3. Lasting Friendship. I hope you find friends that span your whole lifetime. That you love, admire and care for as much as I love mine. Friendship is the key to a happy life.
4. Your first sip of alcohol, how good it feels at the time, how bad it feels in the morning. A late teenage right. Please be clear, avoid Tia Maria and I will not be cleaning up after your hangover. Always drink responsibly...
5. Welcoming your own child into the world. The indescribable feeling of wonderment and complete love.
These are the things I hope you come to learn are better than One Direction, or in your case, Peppa Pig.
Love till next time, L&L xx
I have never done this before so please bear with me.
The theme of Kate's Listography post : 5 Things that are better than One Direction. Things that your children are yet to learn about the world.
Here are mine for Dee:
1. The first time you really find something you LOVE to do. Finding horse riding was a revelation for me. I was never particularly good at sports at school - always being last to be picked for anything (groan, sigh). However, soon after my first riding lesson, I knew I had fallen in love with something I was finally good at. I hope you find something that fills you with as much joy and fulfilment.
2. First Love. Beautiful, irrational and more often than not, short-lived. However, it's the sort of irrationality that I would never want you to miss out on.
3. Lasting Friendship. I hope you find friends that span your whole lifetime. That you love, admire and care for as much as I love mine. Friendship is the key to a happy life.
4. Your first sip of alcohol, how good it feels at the time, how bad it feels in the morning. A late teenage right. Please be clear, avoid Tia Maria and I will not be cleaning up after your hangover. Always drink responsibly...
5. Welcoming your own child into the world. The indescribable feeling of wonderment and complete love.
These are the things I hope you come to learn are better than One Direction, or in your case, Peppa Pig.
Love till next time, L&L xx
Friday, 15 March 2013
A Comic Turn...
I'm afraid that I may be going a little 'off-piste' with this post. But I hope you will indulge me and read on.
It's Comic Relief today, a day for thinking of others and giving what we can to make somebody's life a little more comfortable. When I see the causes that will be helped by our donations, I can't help but be moved. It worries me that even though millions and millions of pounds have already been spent in aid of these people, there are still so many in the world who need our help. People who live in poverty, children who are begging and forced into modern day slavery. I find it hard to think of a world where one half lives in relative opulence compared to the other half. It seems madness that there are children in the world who still have to drink polluted water when western society is fixated on having the latest tablet computer or designer handbags.
Don't get me wrong, I love my designer handbags and I often scold myself when I find myself vying for another pair of shoes that are far too expensive. I try to rationalise with myself, reminding myself of that prophecy drummed into us as children - 'there are people starving in the world'. I think we are all guilty of being a little selfish and un-thinking sometimes.
Truth is, most of us will sit and watch Comic Relief tonight. We will laugh at the silly antics of the celebrities who have given up some of their time to do something funny for money, we will cry at the videos of those people suffering, we will gasp at the children dying in the hospitals in such horrible and preventable circumstances. Yet tomorrow, we will get up and carry on as normal, we will get our children from their beds/cots, we will eat our breakfast, we will turn on the tap to find clean, drinkable water. We will open the fridge to find food and treats. We will spend money on the frivolous things we allow ourselves. Why? Because we can and because we are so very lucky.
It is madness that in 2013 that the world is still so drastically split by the rich and the poor.
I am thankful for all those people who campaign tirelessly for the charities they support. I am proud of them. I am proud that we have things like Comic Relief in this country, which every year reminds us that there are people out there, who share this world, that need our help desperately. I am thankful to all those people who have dressed up in pyjamas today, or have done something funny to raise money.
I am so thankful for my life, I am thankful that I have a bed to sleep in at night, that I have a child who is vaccinated free of charge and who has access to some of the greatest medical care in the world. I am thankful that I was lucky enough to be born into a country that can provide these things for me, because thats all we are, lucky.
I am determined to do more to help from now on. Every little helps.
I will be watching and donating tonight, I hope you all do too.
It's Comic Relief today, a day for thinking of others and giving what we can to make somebody's life a little more comfortable. When I see the causes that will be helped by our donations, I can't help but be moved. It worries me that even though millions and millions of pounds have already been spent in aid of these people, there are still so many in the world who need our help. People who live in poverty, children who are begging and forced into modern day slavery. I find it hard to think of a world where one half lives in relative opulence compared to the other half. It seems madness that there are children in the world who still have to drink polluted water when western society is fixated on having the latest tablet computer or designer handbags.
Don't get me wrong, I love my designer handbags and I often scold myself when I find myself vying for another pair of shoes that are far too expensive. I try to rationalise with myself, reminding myself of that prophecy drummed into us as children - 'there are people starving in the world'. I think we are all guilty of being a little selfish and un-thinking sometimes.
Truth is, most of us will sit and watch Comic Relief tonight. We will laugh at the silly antics of the celebrities who have given up some of their time to do something funny for money, we will cry at the videos of those people suffering, we will gasp at the children dying in the hospitals in such horrible and preventable circumstances. Yet tomorrow, we will get up and carry on as normal, we will get our children from their beds/cots, we will eat our breakfast, we will turn on the tap to find clean, drinkable water. We will open the fridge to find food and treats. We will spend money on the frivolous things we allow ourselves. Why? Because we can and because we are so very lucky.
It is madness that in 2013 that the world is still so drastically split by the rich and the poor.
I am thankful for all those people who campaign tirelessly for the charities they support. I am proud of them. I am proud that we have things like Comic Relief in this country, which every year reminds us that there are people out there, who share this world, that need our help desperately. I am thankful to all those people who have dressed up in pyjamas today, or have done something funny to raise money.
I am so thankful for my life, I am thankful that I have a bed to sleep in at night, that I have a child who is vaccinated free of charge and who has access to some of the greatest medical care in the world. I am thankful that I was lucky enough to be born into a country that can provide these things for me, because thats all we are, lucky.
I am determined to do more to help from now on. Every little helps.
I will be watching and donating tonight, I hope you all do too.
Give this song a listen.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWf-eARnf6U
Tuesday, 12 March 2013
A Mothers Love: Mothering Sunday
As children we are so utterly unaware of just how much we are loved by our Mothers. We so innocently take them for granted, never being totally aware of the sacrifices they have made for us and how much we mean to them.
As teenagers we begin to resent them. They seem to be a constant source of annoyance and their un-fathomable way of knowing that you got home two hours after curfew is incredibly frustrating. You spend hours barricaded in your room, cursing their existence and wishing that you had one of the those fun, laid-back kind of Mums who allowed parties and an alcoholic drink before you turned 18. As those young, immature adolescents we were unable to see the affection behind their actions; that their motives were bathed in love.
On entering adulthood you slowly begin to understand that they only ever wanted the best for you, that Mums are wise women of the world who understood more about life than you ever could at that age. That their sometimes drastic actions were shrouded in the faith and hope that one day you would understand that Mum really does know best.
Above all, the clearest realisation and understanding of what a Mothers love really is comes at the moment you yourself become a parent.
I was lucky enough to have my own Mum in the room with me when I gave birth to my daughter. Her support to both myself and my husband was incredible. It was like her love filled up the room and gave me the strength to focus on the momentous and precious job I had infront of me. She sang to me softly and kept a silent vigil over me as I gathered the strength to bring Dee into the world safely.
I'm so glad I got to experience my birth story with her, it made those long, painful, tiring hours both bearable and special.
Seconds after giving birth, whilst holding both my baby and my husband in my arms, I remember looking at my Mum and saying 'Thank You'. I attempted to put 27 years of unsaid things into those words, they weren't just gratitude for staying by my side through this process but for always being by my side, for loving me so effortlessly the way that I now loved my newborn daughter. It was a thank you for that pure, perfect, un-assuming, awe-inspiring, unselfish, beautiful love, that until that moment I had never quite understood.
Ten minutes after Dee was born, my Mum left the room to go home, she simply looked at me and smiled and then quietly slipped away. I knew at that moment things were never going to be the same again; but in a totally wonderful way. Our mother-daughter bond had increased 100 fold with the addition of our new tiny miracle. Our little Dee.
Later, as I held my newborn daughter close, thankful of a few fuss free moments, the overwhelming love I felt for this tiny, fragile thing seemed to subsume me. How had my Mum loved me like this for so long? How had she not drowned under the weight of it? How do any mothers do it?
My respect grows for my Mum everyday, just as my love grows for Dee. Sometimes I find that love so overwhelming that it threatens to overcome me and swallow me whole.
I once read somewhere that "a mothers love is something that no one can explain, it is made of deep devotion and of sacrifice and pain". I used to think this was quite morbid, but now I understand those words with a far deeper meaning than I ever did before.
I spent this Mothers Day in the company of my Mum and my daughter- for whom I am so blessed and grateful. It was a day of celebration and happiness, a day of love.
I hope that all Mums, Mums-to-be, Step-Mums, Grandmas, Great Grandmas and anyone who bears the title 'Mother' had a beautiful day, smug in the knowledge that we are privy to the secret of a Mothers love.
I also hope that those who were spending Sunday without their Mums, those who are in mourning for children had an extra special day celebrating the lives of the people they love the most.
Happy Mothers Day to all.
Love to you all, till next time - L & L x
As teenagers we begin to resent them. They seem to be a constant source of annoyance and their un-fathomable way of knowing that you got home two hours after curfew is incredibly frustrating. You spend hours barricaded in your room, cursing their existence and wishing that you had one of the those fun, laid-back kind of Mums who allowed parties and an alcoholic drink before you turned 18. As those young, immature adolescents we were unable to see the affection behind their actions; that their motives were bathed in love.
On entering adulthood you slowly begin to understand that they only ever wanted the best for you, that Mums are wise women of the world who understood more about life than you ever could at that age. That their sometimes drastic actions were shrouded in the faith and hope that one day you would understand that Mum really does know best.
Above all, the clearest realisation and understanding of what a Mothers love really is comes at the moment you yourself become a parent.
I was lucky enough to have my own Mum in the room with me when I gave birth to my daughter. Her support to both myself and my husband was incredible. It was like her love filled up the room and gave me the strength to focus on the momentous and precious job I had infront of me. She sang to me softly and kept a silent vigil over me as I gathered the strength to bring Dee into the world safely.
I'm so glad I got to experience my birth story with her, it made those long, painful, tiring hours both bearable and special.
Seconds after giving birth, whilst holding both my baby and my husband in my arms, I remember looking at my Mum and saying 'Thank You'. I attempted to put 27 years of unsaid things into those words, they weren't just gratitude for staying by my side through this process but for always being by my side, for loving me so effortlessly the way that I now loved my newborn daughter. It was a thank you for that pure, perfect, un-assuming, awe-inspiring, unselfish, beautiful love, that until that moment I had never quite understood.
Ten minutes after Dee was born, my Mum left the room to go home, she simply looked at me and smiled and then quietly slipped away. I knew at that moment things were never going to be the same again; but in a totally wonderful way. Our mother-daughter bond had increased 100 fold with the addition of our new tiny miracle. Our little Dee.
Later, as I held my newborn daughter close, thankful of a few fuss free moments, the overwhelming love I felt for this tiny, fragile thing seemed to subsume me. How had my Mum loved me like this for so long? How had she not drowned under the weight of it? How do any mothers do it?
My respect grows for my Mum everyday, just as my love grows for Dee. Sometimes I find that love so overwhelming that it threatens to overcome me and swallow me whole.
I once read somewhere that "a mothers love is something that no one can explain, it is made of deep devotion and of sacrifice and pain". I used to think this was quite morbid, but now I understand those words with a far deeper meaning than I ever did before.
I spent this Mothers Day in the company of my Mum and my daughter- for whom I am so blessed and grateful. It was a day of celebration and happiness, a day of love.
I hope that all Mums, Mums-to-be, Step-Mums, Grandmas, Great Grandmas and anyone who bears the title 'Mother' had a beautiful day, smug in the knowledge that we are privy to the secret of a Mothers love.
I also hope that those who were spending Sunday without their Mums, those who are in mourning for children had an extra special day celebrating the lives of the people they love the most.
Happy Mothers Day to all.
Love to you all, till next time - L & L x
Saturday, 2 March 2013
Mum's the word.
Being a Mum is really hard, truly wonderful but really, really hard.
I read countless parenting blogs on how perfect life is with their little ones. How every day is filled with joy and contentment and amazing discoveries. These blogs are either lying or I am doing something terribly wrong. Don't mis-understand me, I love being a Mum, I have found it a difficult journey but I do love it. Yet I often judge myself harshly, I wonder if sometimes I don't do enough for Dee or I make the wrong decisions regarding her upbringing. I have found adjusting to motherhood hard, I am not by any means an 'earth mother', I don't believe I was put on this earth purely to reproduce and spend my whole life pontificating at how wonderful I am at parenting.
My daughter is extremely precious to me, she came into my life almost eighteen months ago and changed it irrevocably. I decided when I was pregnant that I was going to give up work and raise my daughter as a stay at home Mum - I believe I made the right decision but it does not mean that some days I don't find it really hard.
I'm a young(ish) Mummy. I am the first of my friends to have a baby. I had a tiring pregnancy with sometimes debilitating morning sickness and chronic tiredness. Even though I read pregnancy and child-rearing books religiously, I felt extremely lonely. I felt I couldn't talk to my closest friends about things because they didn't or couldn't understand what my body was going through. When I was worried about lack of movement or odd changes to my body I often felt trapped and frightened.
I don't think you ever feel 'ready' for a baby. The overwhelming feeling that this tiny thing is going to rely on you completely is a very un-nerving thought. I spent months fretting over the type of mother I wanted to be, contemplating all the mistakes I did not want to make. Truth is you tend to make mistakes whatever you do. You do things you always said you never would and you find yourself pushing to do things well out of your comfort zone.
When Dee arrived, after almost three days of labour and a head fizzy from gas and air; I have never felt more relieved in my whole life. Relieved that she was healthy, relieved she had all her fingers and toes which were so utterly perfect. Relieved that I loved her in that indescribable way that all Mums talk about, that you can't quite comprehend until you meet your child for the first time.
As a mother 16 months on - I forever feel that I should be doing more. That we should go on more outings, that I should make more effort to do lots more creative things with her. That I should have sent her to Nursery sooner, that I should never have introduced her to the world of Peppa Pig.
Truth is, most days, Dee and I mosey along together. We go shopping, we sing, we dance, we laugh. She watches as I clean and tidy and cook. She sits in her cot whilst I shower. We see friends and family regularly, we eat out.
I will never be one of those Mothers who enrols her child in every group going, Dee won't play the piano at 3 years old. I have made peace with the fact that I will never be the perfect mother....
... But I'll always be the perfect mother to Dee - and thats really all that matters.
Love till next time - L & L x x
I read countless parenting blogs on how perfect life is with their little ones. How every day is filled with joy and contentment and amazing discoveries. These blogs are either lying or I am doing something terribly wrong. Don't mis-understand me, I love being a Mum, I have found it a difficult journey but I do love it. Yet I often judge myself harshly, I wonder if sometimes I don't do enough for Dee or I make the wrong decisions regarding her upbringing. I have found adjusting to motherhood hard, I am not by any means an 'earth mother', I don't believe I was put on this earth purely to reproduce and spend my whole life pontificating at how wonderful I am at parenting.
My daughter is extremely precious to me, she came into my life almost eighteen months ago and changed it irrevocably. I decided when I was pregnant that I was going to give up work and raise my daughter as a stay at home Mum - I believe I made the right decision but it does not mean that some days I don't find it really hard.
I'm a young(ish) Mummy. I am the first of my friends to have a baby. I had a tiring pregnancy with sometimes debilitating morning sickness and chronic tiredness. Even though I read pregnancy and child-rearing books religiously, I felt extremely lonely. I felt I couldn't talk to my closest friends about things because they didn't or couldn't understand what my body was going through. When I was worried about lack of movement or odd changes to my body I often felt trapped and frightened.
I don't think you ever feel 'ready' for a baby. The overwhelming feeling that this tiny thing is going to rely on you completely is a very un-nerving thought. I spent months fretting over the type of mother I wanted to be, contemplating all the mistakes I did not want to make. Truth is you tend to make mistakes whatever you do. You do things you always said you never would and you find yourself pushing to do things well out of your comfort zone.
When Dee arrived, after almost three days of labour and a head fizzy from gas and air; I have never felt more relieved in my whole life. Relieved that she was healthy, relieved she had all her fingers and toes which were so utterly perfect. Relieved that I loved her in that indescribable way that all Mums talk about, that you can't quite comprehend until you meet your child for the first time.
As a mother 16 months on - I forever feel that I should be doing more. That we should go on more outings, that I should make more effort to do lots more creative things with her. That I should have sent her to Nursery sooner, that I should never have introduced her to the world of Peppa Pig.
Truth is, most days, Dee and I mosey along together. We go shopping, we sing, we dance, we laugh. She watches as I clean and tidy and cook. She sits in her cot whilst I shower. We see friends and family regularly, we eat out.
I will never be one of those Mothers who enrols her child in every group going, Dee won't play the piano at 3 years old. I have made peace with the fact that I will never be the perfect mother....
... But I'll always be the perfect mother to Dee - and thats really all that matters.
Love till next time - L & L x x
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