Everyday Struggle 

Everyday Struggle
You wake up feeling like you’ve had no sleep.

You bring your baby downstairs and feed them breakfast while nursing a brew already thinking how you can keep them entertained for another day.

You have hardly any money to do anything, and it’s pissing it down and the daunting day in the house dawns on you.

You try every toy, every silly face, every song and every silly dance to make them smile and laugh, but soon they’re moaning and crying again.

It’s frustrating for both of you.

They’re growing so fast and their almost new toys are boring, they’ve grown out of their jumperoo which was once the saviour and there’s not enough room in the house for them to potter about in the walker.

You hold them up and walk around supporting them which they enjoy, but it hurts your back and before long you have to sit them down again, which is when the moaning starts again.

The house is a mess, the pots are in the sink, the dusting and hoovering desperately needs doing.

You try to keep it together and stay positive for your baby.

You don’t want them to see you cry but you feel like a failure.

Why can’t I entertain my own baby? 

Are they bored of me?

What am I doing wrong?

Why can’t they crawl yet?

That’s why they’re so frustrated, but the more you try to encourage it the less they seem to try.

The day is so long and it’s not even the afternoon.

But you know you have to make it through.

Everyone else seems to be doing fine.

Soon bedtime will come around, and you’ll give them their last feed, everything will be calm and you’ll look into each other’s eyes and feel a connection like no other.

You know tomorrow will be just as hard, but in that moment everything is perfect and you struggle to remember why is was so bad today.
We have such a tough job, being the sole caregiver for our babies. It’s so demanding and takes every bit of our energy and emotions.
It’s a lifetime job that we’ll moan about and cry about, but the love we feel is indescribable. So we carry on, hoping that they’ll turn out okay and they’ll finally say “I love you” back. 
I’m struggling today, and that’s okay.

Maternal Mental Health

Everyone was so excited when you announced the news of your pregnancy. People asked about baby names and gender, they asked if you were going to breast or bottle feed. They maybe gave you advise and told you it worked for them so it would work for you too.
You were overwhelmed. People told you how you were glowing and how they missed being pregnant.
You felt guilty. All you could think is how much you can’t wait to be back to your normal self.
The pressure to give your baby the best diet, to not gain a lot of weight and to stay active when all you wanted to do was eat crap and watch tv with your feet elevated.
When your baby was born you thought all the hormones would stop. But since you’ve been a mother it’s non stop. The guilt of not feeling overwhelming love when you first saw your baby and not having that connection. The constant worry that you’re doing right by your child. The never ending comparisons to mothers all over the world that they’re doing so much better than you. The loneliness of having no one to talk to all day. The haunting realisation that your life isn’t going to get back to normal any time soon, and the hard work is inescapable. The unexpected drain on your relationship, no sex life, no desire to have sex, resentment, distance. Will you both make it through this? Having nobody to confide in because why would you admit you can’t do something that millions of women have handled since the beginning of time. 
Being a parent is so tough. You sacrifice every part of yourself for this tiny human who you love more than anything you can imagine. 

Your child loves you back. Unconditionally.

Today marks Maternal Mental Health Day. 

Let’s speak out without shame or embarrassment. We are mothers. Mothers with human emotion not superpowers. We are not perfect or magical. We are strong because we have to be. We didn’t get here without fighting through what can be the most challenging times in our lives. Having a baby is a beautiful thing, but we might not realise that as it’s happening and that’s okay. Because we love fiercely and we raise amazing humans. 

Speak out and seek help, I can guarantee there isn’t a mother out there who hasn’t felt even a fraction of how you’re feeling. Speak to a friend, a mother, your partner, even a Facebook “baby group”. We’re all here to support each other. 
Keep going, you’re doing an amazing job.  

#maternalmentalhealth #maternalMHmatters

Teething Struggle

5am wake up call. Teething 7 month old. Coil checkup. Day 4 of eating healthy… This is not the best combination.

I’m feeling like an absolute hero right now. Call me super mum. He’s finally asleep. I’m so glad that Pete was home or I might have spent the day silently sobbing and eating the whole pack of spirals in the cupboard and all the cheese in the fridge.

It’s better then when he was a few months old and teething, when he would just scream for hours at a time and I’d be stuck relentlessly dancing around my house pretending I was in strictly and feeling I was in hell. I was always scared I was going to OD him on Calpol, teething powders and Anbesol liquid. Now I don’t give it a second thought and dose him right up. Although, now when he’s in pain he won’t let me hold and rock him. I can’t hold him at all without him flinging himself backwards, to which I always panic I’m going to drop him because he’s an absolute tank.

Who knew a 7 month old could throw a paddy!? Like, I thought this happened at the “terrible 2” age, but nope, Edwin has gotten in there early. If I move the remote out the way, if I move my phone out of his reach, if I have he audacity to smile at him when he’s playing alone or sing to him. So now I watch whatever Edwin has put on the TV, and my phone is constantly covered in baby dribble. 

Luckily, I didn’t have to take him into the nurses room with me to get my coil checked today. Unlike when I had it fitted when he was in the pram next to the bed I was laid on, my legs spread open, and Edwin decided to cry, so im singing “you are my sunshine” while a nurse is all up in my vag. Oh and during which, when her fingers were fully roaming around she told me I had a “long vagina”. Lovely.

The day didn’t get easier when I got home and started to crash. Healthy eating is not good for you when you have a baby who needs you to be constantly weird and fun and literally a CBeebies presenter. In my desperation I got into bed with him and sang “twinkle twinkle little star”, while screaming in my head “please sleep you beautiful horrible little twat”, obviously this failed miserably so we went back downstairs and played with my phone. Which is why I have allowed myself, for the sake of being the best parent I can be for my child tomorrow, to eat all the carbs. All of them. Did you know beer is a carb? It’s the wheat. So we need it in order to entertain our beautiful and demanding children. 

Only another few years of teething though and then I’ll not have to deal with a whiny, devil child again, right?

Post Pregnancy Pants Struggle

I don’t really have anything to rant about this week. Pete has been off so it’s been an absolute dream after doing this parenting thing on my own Monday – Friday for the past 4 months!!

This in turn has made Edwin like the happiest baby ever – erm I’ll try not to take it personally that he’s difficult when it’s only me and him. 

Today I thought I’d get some new underwear. I thought it was time to ditch the 2x 5 pack of HUGE black pants which go up to my boobs which my mum got me after my cesarean. Also the nursing bras which didn’t serve their purpose because I couldn’t deal with the pain of breastfeeding which I’ll forever regret, but that’s a different story for another post.

ANYWAY. Got all this beaut underwear, some matching and everything all size “L” to be on the safe side, only to get home and try them on and find the big granny pants were fooling me into thinking I was ready for nice kickers cause my overhang is fucking repulsive. 

So now I’m sat watching a documentary on Fred and Rose west, drinking beer and eating giant packets of crisps because I literally couldn’t give a shit. I read somewhere is takes women’s bodies up to 3 years to recover from pregnancy and labour anyway so I have that long to get rid of it! No rush :). 

Welcome To My Struggle

I’m starting a little late with a “mummy blog”. I’ve been busy trying to come to terms with the fact I am actually a mum. Like seriously!? I’m a mum. ME.
I’m only just starting to feel like a real life mum because Edwin is more responsive and he reaches out for me and touches my face and my heart explodes.

Those first months are really trying aren’t they? I just felt like a complete failure, like I was kidding myself to ever think I could actually do this. The cesarean threw me, wasn’t expecting to be cut open and then sent home with a tiny human I’d made and not be able to pick him up or be there for him.

I think I cried everyday. Stalking other mums on my Facebook to check I was normal. But no one else posted about bad stuff, which is totally understandable. But I want to post about the nights you scream into your pillow, and the time you called your baby a dickhead for keeping you up all night , then giving you a smile before sleeping at 7am then crying to yourself because you’re the worst mother in the universe.

I’m Aimee and I’m a first time mum. Welcome to my struggle.