bath time, bruises and baby weight

so russ is back from work and i have handed over little our bundle of joy and scampered upstairs to have a long soak in the bath. arrrrgh! heaven! door closed to the world, bath hot enough to give me a lovely lobster glow and a cool glass of wine. now this really is the life.

i get undressed ignoring the long mirrors on the wall that show my ever increasing waistline. hah! now that's a complete lie! i haven't had a waistline in months! again i mutter to myself about being lazy and getting my bubble butt to the gym, knowing full well that it ain't gonna happen. not before christmas anyway! why should i sit there chewing on a lettuce leaf and sipping slim line tonics while everyone else is tucking into turkey, trimmings and triple tipples? and don't even get me started on slim line tonics! who in the hell seriously believes you can get a diet water? i mean please! anyway, so im still attempting to ignore my reflection. though cannot help noticing that when my stomach moves it looks remarkably like a lava lamp! ooh! ooh! ooh! hot! hot! hot! no wonder i end up looking like an overcooked lobster i should really test the heat of the water before i sit down!



a sip of wine and i disappear under the water lying their daydreaming in the eerie quietness of my surroundings. i love being under water, it provides such a stillness i cant help but let out a deep sigh and allow my head to slowly empty. all stresses, worries and so called important thoughts disappear and i am left with a contented feeling of pure euphoria! how is it something so simple can right all the wrongs so easily? then remembering i have to raise my head to breathe i reluctantly start to push myself into a sitting position. now, imagine the daintiness and graceful moves of the aquatic world. how even the largest of the under water world glide effortlessly from one place to another, sliding under the waves appearing to be completely weightless. then picture if you will, me. dainty? no! graceful? errm i doubt it! weightless? hah! i think not!



i bend my legs and go to push myself upright into a sitting position, but i cant! i am stuck! my back has somehow suctioned itself to the bottom of the bath! how on earth did that happen? im sure there is some kind of scientific reasoning behind how and why i had suddenly become pinned by my own body to the bottom of the bath! i however, have my own theory! i believe that my wibbly wobbly bits created air pockets under the water and when i had tried to move these pockets had created suction pads that literally stuck me to the ceramic floor! so after thinking about this i realise i have no choice but to heave myself straight upwards up and out of the water, ouch! wow that hurt! i stumble out of the bath and this time have no intention of trying to dodge the mirrors. i turn round and already i have a massive purple circle appearing on my back. that's going to be some bruise! talk about your beached whale! i was a big bruised, lobster coloured, lava lamp imitating, fatty! is there any possibility i could feel any more attractive right now??!!

then the unthinkable happened! as if those previous events were not enough to break my beautiful, stress free state of mind. i turn around, swing the towel around me and in the process knock over my glass of wine!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

puke and paranoia

"do you have a clue what you are doing mum?" that is the accusing look in my childs eyes. she has just thrown up all over the floor somehow managing to produce far more fruit yogurt than she had actually eaten! she gasps for air gives out a little whimper and as i rush around changing her and wiping the floor, (which by the way was long over due anyway) she eyes me with that look! is it disappointment or am i just paranoid?

its normal for babies to have the odd sicky moment i know, but when i have been the cause of it i find myself questioning my abilities and it rocks me to the core! what have i done? how on earth did i possibly assume i could actually be a responsible adult and look after something so precious? am i just kidding myself thinking i could be a good mother? what have i let this poor child in for? these moments of paranoid questioning do not happen very often but when they do, i, as always go completely overboard! i worry myself stupid and spend the day feeling quite sick and i can assure you i reach severe drama queen status! how or why this happens im not too sure. before i had imogen i was a stress free, laid back, what will be will be kind of girl. though maybe ive just answered my own question - that was before i had her!

so what was the cause of this latest crisis? well as i mentioned it was a fruit yogurt. i had just finished giving imogen her lunch and was laughing at her as she gummed down her lunch with such gusto she looked the spitting image of her father. once she had finished i sat her down and went to wash up the little cup thingy yogurts come in. im a super recycler, everything gets washed and put in the recycling. i say anyone who does not bother with their blue bin is just lazy! i mean seriously, how much effort does it really take? anyway im going off on a tangent there, that could be a whole other post. where was i, yep thats it. i have walked off to wash the container and imogen has grabbed her spoon from my hand. arrgh i think she still hungry, oh well she can chew on the spoon.

BIG mistake! from the kitchen i hear these faint sounds, thats not gurgling! that gagging! i run into the living room and there she is stuffing the spoon so far down her throat that she is about to vomit! i grab the spoon and have just enough time to point her away from my rug and towards the laminate floor (easier to wipe clean). then it comes, fruit yogurt all over the floor! and as i mentioned above, somehow there was at least twice the amount coming out as there was went in! yes very clever imogen! as i change the baby and clean the floor i think to myself, why did i leave her with that spoon?! surely i should have known that it was not only a bad idea but a dangerous one too! i fully appreciate that i will not be able to wrap her in cotton wool and protect her from every pitfall in life. though when the danger seems to come from me, what chance has she got? i think im hitting drama queen status again and my baby girl is absolutely fine, but, well . . . there are just so many buts!!

so there it is, the story of my babys puke and my paranoia, will i ever learn? or do i just have to resign myself to the fact that being a parent is a continual learning curve and there will be plenty more crisis to come. oh wonderful! isnt that the best bit? knowing there are more mistakes to come? oooooh the anticipation!

i live under your floor boards

GOTCHA! bursting through my bedroom door i am again disappointed to find all my teddies in exactly the same place as before. i know they move when im not there, i am sure they come alive in private, i am positive that when that door shuts a whole world opens up and all my teddies and toys come out to play. all ive got to do is be quick enough to catch them!

as far back as i can remember i have always had a runaway imagination. i would day dream for hours about other worlds, secret organisations and hidden places. i read all of the famous five and the secret seven books, i would be the leader of a secret gang and i would stumble upon a mystery to solve. aarrrgh you think what an adorable childhood fantasy, but its not just a young girls dream. even now as a grown woman i still have the same fantastical amazing imagination i did when i was ten!

when i walk down the street i find myself looking into drains wondering what kind of secrets could be down there. i peer into the mirror trying to look past my reflection and into another space in time. i watch that advert for coca cola where you get to see behind the mechanical shell and a whole new planet comes alive! inside there are little beings making the bottle and producing the cola juice. then it falls into the draw below so the oblivious person on the other side can have his drink. its not a vending machine its a magical world! they have honestly read my mind! i love the idea of secret worlds co existing with ours, especially as we have no clue they are there! the possibilities of my imagination are endless and i sometimes become bored with my normal, mundane, human reality! in my dreams i could be anything, anything at all!

im a witch in harry potter, flying through the sky on a magical broomstick. im a pixie that dances on the roses at the bottom of your garden. im the small girl that hides in her wardrobe only to find a winter wonderland with talking animals. im a secret agent, the most sort after and best in the world. im the snowman that comes alive after you have gone to sleep and dances in the street. im the pot plant that giggles and waves at you behind your back. im one of the care bears that plays on rainbows and jumps on clouds. im a unicorn prancing through the forest and playing amongst the trees. im one of the borrowers and i live under your floorboards. i live in a different world, a special world, a magical world, a world of possiblities. i live all of this and all i have to do is dream.

im sorry, was i in your way?

you are WELCOME! i shout at the person i have just held a door open for! the same person who has just barged through without so much as a sidewards glance, let alone a thank you! what is it with people these days? are they not taught basic manners as children or do they just not remember how to be polite? things are so expensive these days, prices are constantly rising, we are in the middle of a recession and yet manners cost absolutely nothing! the words 'please' and 'thank you' are free!

when i walk down the street i make an effort to actually look where i am going. there has been the odd occasion when i have gotten distracted and bumped into someone, but on the whole i am aware of my surroundings. its the dirty looks that really get on my nerves! you bumped into me! so why are you eyeing me with that disgusted expression? im not exactly invisible! look where you are going!! is it really just me? why is it i walk twice the distance by walking from right to left instead of a straight line? why do i always have to be the one that moves out of the way? why cant i walk from A to B regardless of other people and if someone gets in my way just plough right into them? the answer to that is simple. my parents taught me manners and i remembered them!

the daily battle parents go through when attempting to navigate a pushchair around town previously escaped me, that is of course, until i had to do it myself! shop displays ready to be knocked over, isles that aren't wide enough, doors that struggle to open, evasive lifts that take ages to arrive, baby change toilets that are on the top floor of the highest building and other people! the crowds that refuse to allow you past, the sighs as you soothe your grizzly baby while standing in the line and the huffs and puffs as you take time to juggle your shopping, pushchair and purse at the till! "i am soooooooooo sorry! was I in YOUR way?"

so . . . . . . dont just stand there with a look of pity on your face. i am more than capable and absolutely fine. remember your manners, hold the door for me and i will look you in the eye, smile and say thank you x

friends and frustrations

i know when you have a child that your priorities change, hugely! you go from leaving the house on a whim to organising an army just to get a pint of milk! the statement 'pop to the shops' is long forgotten and sometimes i will go without my cuppa fix because the thought of getting imogen ready to go into town is, well, unthinkable! do i have a valid point, or am i just finding excuses for my laziness?

with a change in priorities comes a change in lifestyle and almost certainly a change in acquaintances. i am lucky to have made friends with others in a similar situation and we bounce off each other sharing the fun and frustrations of motherhood. without that support network and the texts of caring, concern and confirmation that i am a good mother, i would have fallen apart by now! however, i do find myself asking, "although i have found these new friends, where are the old ones?"

i realise that i cant join in the way i used to. that i cant stay out as late as i used to and i cant drop everything just like i used to. but, i am still here! all it would take is a little organisation and i could go to dinner with you, i could meet you for a drink and i most definitely with prior notice can find the time to visit the shops! most of all, my door is always open and you could always pop round if just for ten minutes to say 'hi, hows it going?' surely if i can find the time then so can you?

maybe its just the time of year, i do feel like im missing out? i mean i am a little miffed because i have not been invited to a single christmas party this year. well, actually that is a lie. imogen has been invited to a party at baby group and she has kindly offered to make me her plus one. probably because without me she would not get there! hah! my four month old baby has a better social life than me! wow! that is a depressing thought! hahahaha!

so thank you to the new friends and hello to the old ones. this post was inspired by a special mum who, like me wants to let her old friends know . . . we have had children, not left the planet!

egg 'n' chips for breakfast

ok so i have fallen into a serious bad habit! egg and chips for breakfast! what on earth am i doing? mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm yummy! its a weird one i know but since imogen has been born i have been getting the cravings i missed out on during pregnancy.

when i found out i was pregnant i could not wait to send russ out at three in the morning in search of curry flavoured ice cream, the anticipation of eating something strange at unusual times made my mouth water. i was literally salivating at the mere thought of it all. then suddenly i realised after about seven months that i had not had any cravings, not a single one! i had gone off certain things, to eat a crisp made me gag! you may as well have poured cooking oil down my throat and milky tea was a definite no no, but that was it, nothing, the disappointment was devastating! i will admit to eating more of certain things, lemon meringue pie for example, i could eat a whole one in a single sitting. crumpets were devoured in their hundreds and vinegar, well my chips had to swim around my plate before they went anywhere near my mouth! excessive you think, yep, that's me! so that was it, apart from the rather large portions i did not have a single craving! "hmm we are not amused!"

now imogen is 4 months old and everything is back to normal. i haven't touched a lemon meringue pie since the birth (hah! i just had an image of myself sucking on gas and air while attempting to shovel a dessert in my mouth! hehehe) anyway my chips do not have to attend swimming lessons any longer and two crumpets are more than satisfying, though you must admit they are really moreish at the best of times. so why the funny breakfast? i have no idea, reason or explanation for my morning meal. all i can say is that i wake up and the first thing i think of is getting the kettle on, making a strong cup of tea and cutting up some potatoes for my fix. that's what it is, a fix. i have an addiction, a craving, a need for egg and chips! once imogen is up, fed, entertained and having her nap, the fryer is on and the eggs are ready! by nine o'clock im a tucking into my plate of home made chips and runny eggs like i have never seen food before! i don't open the curtains until after this event because frankly i would be appalled to see someone shovel food down their throats as fast as i do!

so is this post natal cravings? is there such a thing? have i just invented a new condition? or is it all in my head? does anyone else have a mystery morning meal or am i completely on my own?

not so much a rant but a plead!

most people love christmas. the anticipation of opening presents, the joy of giving that something special, the look of amazement and excitement on childrens faces on christmas morning, meeting up with those relatives that you don't get to see often enough, the parties, the meals. all these things make christmas magical and arguably the best time of the year. . . for humans that is.

christmas is one of the worst times for animals. once the novelty wears off many pets are simply dumped by their new owners. they usually end up in animal shelters and if nobody buys them after a certain period they are killed. others simply roam the streets and get run over by traffic, starve to death or get captured for laboratories to experiment with.

i cannot stand it when i hear of people giving animals as pets for christmas! now its ok if you are a parent getting your child a cat, i assume you are intelligent enough to realise that you will be the one to take on the main responsibility for the upkeep of that animal. however, taking it upon yourself to assume that someone else is going to take care of an animal is pure stupidity! only a complete idiot would leave an animal in the care of someone who had not made the decision to keep an animal themselves. please have the brains to stop and think that maybe the reason they dont have an animal is because they dont want one, have the space for one or have the time for one??!!

this is not so much a rant, but a plead. please, please, please just stop and think! pets are not toys! they are living creatures with needs and feelings. a proper relationship with a pet is a long term one and needs a responsible and humane approach.

error! error! error!

today i am broken, malfunctioning, faulty. error! error! error! i have found myself feeling less and less like a woman and more and more like a house robot. my objective is to keep house and take care of baby. cook, clean, baby, cook, clean, baby, cook, clean, baby, cook, clean, baby,cook, clean, baby, cook, clean, baby!

i have tried to gain other interests, to stop moaning and do something about my miserable existence but after spending all day with a demanding baby i find im too tired to do anything more than flop onto the sofa and vegetate. please don't get me wrong i made the right decision when i decided to be a stay at home mum. i think i am extremely lucky to have had the choice and for the most part enjoy my days pottering around watching my beautiful girl grow and develop, learning something new every day. but, and there is always a but, i find myself wondering surely there must be more to life? imogen is at the stage now where she is awake for most of the day but she is still too young to do any real activities. i spend my days grinning stupidly, talking nonsense, rattling various toys and trying to think of new ways to entertain. on the few occasions she does sleep i attempt to tidy up, have a cup of tea, put on some washing, maybe have a nap and write my next post. hence the tiding up usually gets pushed aside as does the cup of tea and i fall asleep on the sofa thinking of what to write next.

the idea of my blog was to create a narrative escape, a comical overview of my life to share with others. unfortunately i cannot find anything to smile about these last couple of weeks, i feel fat, ugly, incapable and abandoned! is there anyone who can put the smiling heart back into this robot? do robots have hearts, thoughts, ideas and dreams? or do i just wander aimlessly through the days with a fixed expression that screams vacant!

some serious snoring!

this picture was taken two days before i gave birth to imogen. russ had gone for one last blow out before the responsibility of fatherhood hit. he had sat on the computer chair lent back and in his slightly intoxicated state had lost his balance and gone over! i thought i was hilarious, which is surprising considering i was about to drop you would think i would have/should have been ever so slightly annoyed! how could i be? apart from the fact it really was funny, i had been the one that suggested he go out and have a few pints anyway.

that night russ did not even attempt to sleep in the same bed as me, he said 'sorry babe im going to be noisy tonight' and curled up on the couch. this sleeping arrangement is unfortunately a common occurrence. is it normal for a young couple to sleep in separate rooms? we do not argue, our relationship is fine, we are still in luuuurrrrrrrrrve. so why is it russ and i sleep separately almost every night?

i can sleep anywhere and through anything. that is of course except for one noise, yep as you may have guessed from the title, its the snoring! its the one noise i can not take. it sends shock waves through me like an electric current, the equivalent to nails down a blackboard or the thought of chewing on cotton wool! yuk! even the slightest heavy breathing wakes me up and once i open my eyes there is not a chance i can ignore it. don't get me wrong i have tried! oh how i have tried! but the more i try to block it out the louder it becomes in my head, to the point where i actually feel physically sick! this is when poor russ gets ejected from the bedroom and has to sleep downstairs, i feel somewhat guilty about this but, I NEED MY SLEEP!

russ has tried all the usual over-the-counter remedies, as well as not eating after a certain time, not drinking and loosing some weight but nothing seems to work. so are we doomed to forever sleep solo? maybe instead of it being russ physical problem its my psychological one? all i know is that i am stumped!

part 2 - i did both!

some people breastfeed some people bottle feed, me? i did both! imogen was such a greedy little mare that i couldn't keep up and i had to supplement her diet with baby milk! she went from breast to bottle and back again easily and i must admit to feeling a huge relief when she was on the bottle. breastfeeding is supposed to be this deeply sentimental bonding experience, but i just found it to be time consuming and inconvenient! i love my daughter more than anything else in the world, but i found it difficult to realise that bond when she was hanging off my nipple. i actually found more pleasure and have never felt a more beautiful feeling of happiness and warmth than when i sat and watched russ feeding her. father and daughter so close and me so proud!

so, i decided to express my milk, all of the good stuff none of the fuss! yes, i sat on the couch six times a day and pumped away at my breasts like a lactating cow! russ tried not to stare at his girlfriend sitting there with a pulsating boob spewing out a milky liquid into a cup, hmmmmm sexy! to the outside world we must have looked funny. i sat on one couch expressing into a cup and russ sat on the other couch feeding the baby with a bottle of previously expressed milk! hah! you say, what was the point in that? well i will tell you. it made me happier and less stressed out which in turn made for a happier baby which, of course made for a happier russ. all good! after 6 weeks i expressed less and less and eventually just used the powdered baby milk.


my last rant errr post, i wanted to highlight the inevitability of sore boobs when breastfeeding. in this one i want to rant errr post about how society looks upon those who choose not to breastfeed. it makes me so angry (mainly at myself to be honest) that i felt i had to explain and justify my reasons for deciding to stop breastfeeding and move on to bottle feeding! in fact i was just about to give my reasons then, but, why should i? everyone has the right to make informed decisions on how, when and where they feed their children, and i for one have seen both sides as i have done both. my friends who have bottle fed children are just as fit, happy and healthy as my friends who have breastfed children so in the end, does it really matter?

at the end of the day happy healthy mums make happy healthy babies xxx

part 1 - breast is best?

during my pregnancy i was adamant that i was going to feed my child naturally, after all aren't we constantly being told 'breast is best.'

now the reason i am writing this is because i would like to put a stop to the myth that breastfeeding only hurts if your not doing it right! WRONG! it hurts like hell! it took a week and a half before feeding my baby did not have me gasping in pain and bringing tears to my eyes. right from the beginning imogen latched on properly and she had no trouble suckling. i guess you could say i was lucky as i am fully aware that some mothers and babies have trouble at first. though i must still say ouch! ouch! ouch!

take it from your nipples point of view. one minute they are pertly bobbing up and down in pretty multi coloured lace, winking at the handsome boys. the next they are twice their normal size and being pulled about like a rope in a tug of war! now unless the owners of these said nips have previously been involved in some naughtiness of the kinky kind, then this kind of continued bombardment is going to take a bit of getting used to.

so a quick message to all you new mothers out there, persevere if you can. DON'T be scared to ask for help and advice. DO double check with your midwife as there could be a chance your baby hasn't quite got the hang of it yet. and also be assured, your nipples will eventually stop imitating the glowing pulsating red bulb of a traffic light and calm down to relative normality! well apart from the fact that you will have a mini human being hanging off them for a decent portion of the day! hehehehe x

frantic first night

so we are now on the ward, imogen has breastfed brilliantly and is now sleeping next to me. russ has been sent home to get some sleep and i am supposed to be doing the same. yeah right! my body is knackered but my mind is still travelling at a million miles an hour! is it still the drugs or is it just complete bewilderment, shock, amazement and unspeakable joy over what i have just done?

it is now 10 in the morning and the wards are busy with new mums, excited fathers and lots of kids, oh so many children! now i appreciate the fact i have just had one but that's exactly why i didn't want to be listening to the inane jibber jabber of other peoples offspring! please oh please just let me sleep! i want to go home! to the quiet! to my own place of comfort and safety! this was sadly not to be, at least not until 7 that evening. in her rush to enter the world imogen had pooed on her way out so i had to be checked for infection and the midwives wanted to ensure she had not inhaled any. so i just lie there staring at the clock painfully watching the minutes drag by so slowly.

by half six russ was back, i was dressed and imogen was looking so tiny in her car seat. we were ready to go! come on, sign me out, i want to go! please! just let me leave! . . . yey! we in the car and we going home! on entering the house it suddenly struck me like a boxer punch to the chest! oh my god! the awsome responsibility we had just taken on! oooooh this is serious! ok now breathe, have cup of tea and attempt to stop the ever so proud dad cuddling his daughter so hard he was in danger of squashing her! bless.

its night time and imogen wont feed? she was so good in the hospital? she also will not be put down! the screaming starts and goes on and on and on and on and on and on! whats the matter? what do you want? oh, what have we done? now its my turn, im crying to myself, shushing at imogen and appealing to russ I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO??!! did we bring the wrong baby home? its the first night and im failing already! we cant do this! adoption is the only option! i am seriously freaking out here!

eight hours later and russ comments on the use of a hat. but we were told not to put a hat on her inside, i shout. what about her over heating? needless to say we put on a hat and cuddled her up in an extra blanket. in seconds she was asleep! was that it? she was just cold? am i that inept that i couldn't see my child was cold?

commence the crying again, this is too hard! calming down i realise that im not going to be super mum immediately (if ever) and this was going to be a serious learning curve! absolutely pushed to the limit russ and i flop on the bed and sleep arrives quickly. i was warned of the three day baby blues. hah! mine all arrived in one go on the first night! wow! what a ride! . . . . . . . .

guilty pleasures

oooh this is the title for me! for a start pleasures is plural meaning that im allowed more than one though i am unsure as to whether i should be revealing my naughty habits! now wine and cheese have always been a pleasure for me and when i have finished gorging myself all night i feel incredibly guilty so i suppose they are the perfect items to write about.

you may have noticed that i have used the word 'gorging' and that hardly brings up the usual image of a food and drink connoisseur. well that's because i am most certainly definitely not! those people who can nibble at pieces of cheese, sip wine and discuss things like full bodied texture, oakey tastes and smokey overtones are a complete mystery to me. for a start my one good taste bud only picks up the most obvious of flavours and i have never and will never figure out why you would want to taste something you like and then spit it out! i mean really! what an incredible waste!

now i have finished my rant i should own up to the fact that i do not eat a range of cheeses neither do i sip various wines, like i mentioned before i only have the one taste bud and it only enjoys mature cheddar cheese, that's it, nothing else at all! the same goes for the wine, i am a woman of serious habit and once i have found something i like i stick to it like my life depends on it! a chardonnay is as exotic as i get and although i may push myself and try different makes from time to time i generally go to the same shop, to the same shelf, to the same bottle! now that's a lie because its never the one bottle! (oops major confession there)

now the guilt part of my pleasure in wine and cheese is the amount i can go through! i will sit of an evening, please note this is after my tea, and i will gulp my way through usually two bottles of wine and a very very large piece of cheese. sometimes i will even dip the cheese in salt as i am a serious lover of salt! (oops confession number two!) my only saving grace is that i do not do this every evening and the baby is in bed so she does not have to watch her mother clog her arteries and pickle her liver!

i would like to point out as i finish that i am not an alcoholic and i do not get drunk and fall asleep face down in a big plate of cheese. i will however agree that i do over indulge on occasion and if you thought long and hard about your guilty pleasures you would have to admit to that too!

long labour?

now i have been called many things in my life, some good some bad and some down right rude (though i may have deserved the latter in some cases), i have never though been accused of being completely insane. that is of course, until now! why you ask? well that is simple - i would rather go through labour than pregnancy any day of the week! - WHAT? i hear you shout! are you insane? there you are, you just called me insane didn't you? hah! i knew it! dont worry an explanation is forthcoming i promise.

i would say pregnancy and labour are like cooking. some people cook because they like to cook, i cook because i am hungry. that was what pregnancy was to me, a means to an end. don't get me wrong i love to mix the ingredients, if you know what i mean (nudge nudge, wink wink) but the actual cooking, the 'bun in the oven' if you will, does not interest me at all. did you see what i did there? bun in the oven, cooking, pregnancy. hehehehe, oh go on laugh, it was kind of funny.

anyway, a long painful labour? i think not! from start to finish my labour lasted just over 6 and a half hours, easy peasy squeezy! yes it hurt a bit but being high as a kite on gas and air meant that i really didn't care! now i may have been lucky and when and if russ and i have another one the world may be able to turn round, stick their tongues out and go hah hah haaaaaah 24 hours later and still no baby? now that's a labour!

on a serious note though i am absolutely terrified of having another baby! what if things don't go as smoothly this time? what if im in labour for days? what if something goes wrong? what if? what if? what if? now the sensible side of my brain tells me to shut up and stop being silly, but the female neurotic idiot side of my brain keeps on going. what if, what if, what if? is there an answer to this problem? will my memory fade? and will i go through my next pregnancy and labour with all the ease and expectations of the first? the problem is i will never know until i do it and by then it will be too late.

then suddenly, as i write this, i have come to a conclusion. the answer is staring me in the face! does it matter if things do not go as easily? of course not! it is for the same reason women who have had stressful labours decide to do it all again. im sitting here looking at my daughter snore peacefully in her chair and as i stare at my beautiful creation i know that another pregnancy, another labour, whether it is good or bad, i will do it all again because . . . and we can all say in unison . . . it is sooooooo worth it!