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.

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?

Pregnancy and Labour Struggle

Happy Mothers Day!

Never thought I’d be celebrating this as a mother myself. Being a mum is the most challenging and rewarding thing I have done all at once which is such a mind fuck.

Only recently I have actually felt like a real mum. All the way through my pregnancy I didn’t feel like one, I know it’s weird to say but I kinda felt embarrassed… I can’t explain why I just felt alien. When people commented on my growing bump it made me feel sick. I hated my body I wasn’t ready for the changes it went through.

I didn’t feel the connection to my bump. When he first kicked me I felt gross. I didn’t want to feel it again. I got used to it and videoed the movements but I didn’t find it magical.

I was excited to meet him. But I think I was more excited about not being pregnant anymore and getting my life back (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA).

Edwin was breech which was undetected until I went to the maternity ward after having contractions all night. I wanted a water birth but after examiniation I was told I wasn’t in active labour (ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?), and an ultrasound I was told I would be having an emergency cesarean. I was actually relieved.

I felt a bit nervous but I was actually so glad I wasn’t going to be in pain much longer, little did I know the recovery is a right bitch. 

After a lot of tugging they annouced his birth and laid him on the table near my head. All I remember was the smell, he smelled so beautiful, which is weird since he probably just had my fanny juice all over him.

I felt love. But I didn’t feel that overwhelming feeling everyone went on about. What was wrong with me? Literally just a self centered bitch. Even on the ward afterwards, when Pete was cooing over him and my family came to see him I just felt.. empty. I loved my baby but I just felt… detached? 

That first night on the ward I was not prepared for. So fucking lonely. So fucking clueless. One midwife was my saviour. She helped me walk to the toilet and changed my massive pad. Then got me back to bed and changed Edwin. He hadn’t had his nappy changed since he was born. I felt like a complete failure. 

I just felt like a fraud. For the first two months I just felt like I was living a lie thinking I could raise this baby which came out of me somehow.

I can’t remember how or when it changed. Writing this makes me feel guilty that I ever felt that way. 

Now I look at my Edwin and my heart aches. He’s literally my best friend. He has changed my life for the better and I struggle to remember how I was ever happy without him in it. When I was pregnant all I thought about was how my life was over and how fucking wrong was I!?

So don’t worry if you didn’t have an instagram perfect pregnancy. Or you didn’t relate to the overwhelmingly happy and loved up quotes. I didn’t either. Doesn’t make us bad mums or heartless. It makes us human. And it doesn’t matter how we got through it all, one thing is for sure, we bloody love our children more than anything in this shitty world. 

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 :). 

Body Struggle 

I can deal with the lack of sleep, the guilt of not being a perfect mum and the constant worry that I’m doing it all wrong. What I’m finding most difficult, and yes it’s incredibly vain, but what I can’t come to terms with is how different my body looks.

Before giving birth I was convinced I would be able to bounce back to my pre pregnancy body. I know, I know, SO MANY LOLS RIGHT!? I keep telling myself I’m beautiful still because I’ve made a baby, but it’s hard when you have bin liners full of clothes that you wouldn’t be able to get away with now never mind squeeze into.

I feel robbed. It’s so hard to lose weight when the only enjoyment I have on my own is eating when I’m alone at night. Not enough credit is given to the party diet, just drinking every night and being too sick to even give food a thought. 
It’s so damn unfair that I feel anything but sexy. I hate being naked. I follow every body positivity instagram there is and yet I look at myself in the mirror and want to rip the fat and flab off myself. I mean what the hell is that pocket that insists on making clothes harder to fit!? 

I just want to wear lingerie and jump on my boyfriend without fear of him clawing his eyes out or suffocating him. 

It’s so stupid because I can literally look at every woman and find their unique beauty and appreciate it. Why can’t I do that to myself? I suppose I’m not the only one, so why can’t we give ourselves a bloody break!? We created life! And people can say; “you look beautiful”, “you look amazing”, but I could do with hearing: “Aimee why the fuck are you still in size 14 clothing you fat whore!”. But then I would cry and call that person a cunt behind their back and slag them off to everyone so those people could tell me I’m beautiful.

Anyway, I’ve eaten like 4 packets of crisps tonight, pasta and a mini mars bar with a glass and a half of wine to drown my sorrows. 

I’ll start the diet again tomorrow. (Starving myself and drinking black coffee until I feel so sick I desperately raid the cupboards). 
Stupid vicious circle. 

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.