I don't think I'm alone when I say that I've battled with body confidence/self esteem issues for most of my life. One of my earliest memories of these struggles was as far back as primary school, when I specifically remember running up and down the stairs trying to 'loose weight' before a swimming party which I was going to later that day. A part of me is able to see the comical side to it all these years later, the fact that I thought I could shed a little puppy fat in the space of an hour.. (In my defense I was just a tad naive and once went to bed literally praying that in the morning I would wake as Pocahontas- it's safe to say I woke up just a little disappointed)
But in all seriousness, as a 26 year old mother to a beautiful little girl, there is a part of me that feels massively sad remembering it. I'm a self confessed sensitive soul at the best of times, but it truly kills me to think of my Daughter ever thinking about herself so negatively.
Another memory I have is from a p.e lesson years later in Secondary school. The teacher had us girls all sat together and asked us to raise our hands if we were 100% perfectly content with our bodies and appearance. I vividly remember two girls raising their hands. I could quite confidently bet money on it that most of the girls who were in attendance that day won't even remember the conversation. I on the other hand, was so taken aback by it and so, so incredibly envious and to be really honest, quite disbelieving that there were actually people out there confident in themselves that I've never been able to forget it.
Both of those girls have went on to have multiple children each and I sometimes wonder if they still feel this way about their bodies.
I genuinely hope so.
Back to the present day, I am currently 26 weeks pregnant with my second baby and I feel i've been quite body confident throughout the first few months. This time around I knew I know whats ahead, nothing has came as a surprise. The boobs and strong white nails have grown (the perks) but the stretchmarks from the first time have resurfaced and so have the wispy baby hairs that even the Liz Earle hair oil just won't tame. But you win some and lose some, and having been there and done that I know that the end result is worth all these trivial hang-ups.
Maybe a little tmi, but I didn't expect to fall pregnant so quickly. In my head I wanted to be as healthy and my body as fit and ready for pregnancy as humanly possible. But after loosing almost a stone after a bout of the notorious norovirus, I soon made up for the weight loss and gained over a stone and a half with the stress of buying and moving house with a toddler. Well, that's my story and i'm sticking to it.......
I was a little bit pissed off to be honest starting my pregnancy with as bit of excess weight. I was able to avoid maternity clothes the first time around, the mighty hair bobble trick served me well and I was scared that my body would struggle to get back to any kind of normality after two.
But I was hit full whack with a reality check when my doctor referred me to the early pregnancy clinic at 7 weeks + 4 after several nights of cramping and shooting pain.
It was a bank holiday and so I had to wait three agonizing days until I could be seen. I had never experienced this with my first pregnancy and had utterly convinced myself that we had lost, or were loosing the baby. So much so, I couldn't even bare to look up at the screen until the wonderful lady doing the scan said 'Don't you want to see? look at that nice steady heartbeat'
Ever since that scare I have never taken for granted how extremely hashtag 'blessed' I am. How fortunate I am to be able to conceive and carry a baby. Not just one, but two healthy pregnancies.
My heart breaks for the women that struggle, the one's that show up to their scan to hear devastating news, the one's that never to experience the things we like to moan about. The one's that have to say goodbye, before they even get a chance to say hello.
It's only when you look up the facts and figures you see how all too common it is. And so i'm adamant to embrace the changes, both the perks and the flaws of pregnancy. To keep in mind exactly how I felt waiting to find out if my pregnancy was 'viable' when I complain of aching hips, lack of sleep or the battery acid rushing up my throat every time my head hits a pillow. I am fortunate to experience these symptoms that tell me my baby is continuously growing.
This week is the first in 26 that i've hit a low point. Lately i've had so many comments about my 'bump'/ body/ appearance that I came home from work the other night, shut the door and burst into tears. Proper Kim K ugly crying tears if we're being specific. You know one of those crying fits were you can't quite get the words out? that was me. Luckily Stuart was there arms wide open, and was quick to make me a cup of tea. A double Jack Daniel's, no ice would have went down a treat- but, pregnant, and all that.
'Wow, you're massive, and so long still to go!' 'You're definitely a lot broader this time around' 'You're bigger but it's still a lovely bump' 'Are you sure there's not another in there?' Cue lots of eye rolling and polite laughing. I've never been blessed with quick wit and so a sarky comeback is out of the question.
The icing on the cake was when I walked past two council workers who looked at each other and I seen one mouth 'Holy Shit' when I walked past. Hurt turned to anger instantly , and it's had me thinking ever since.
I know this comes as part and parcel of being pregnant. I'm probably guilty of it myself. In fact I know i'm guilty of it. It's hard not to be face to face with a pregnant woman and not make a comment. Maybe it's because I am carrying more weight this time i'm definitely feeling more sensitive to comments. Last time I was 'all bump' and I was quite proud of it. I know deep down people don't mean anything vicious by it, in fact i'd say the majority of the time they aren't even aware of how it can make a woman feel and would feel mortified if I told them that I had to literally force myself out of the house the other day to take my Daughter to the leisure center because I was so unhappy with how I felt in my jeans. My two sizes bigger than usual, maternity jeans. No hair bobble trick can sort this one out. I'd sooner go to a supermarket in the next town than have to bump into people I know and hear the same comments on repeat. I'm so proud of my body that i'm so angry at myself for letting other people make me feel self conscious about my body.
I tried explaining to Stuart that it's like having a noticeable wart on the end of your nose, and everyone you come into contact with commenting on it. It becomes draining. Some days you're more sensitive to comments than others. Some days you have all the confidence in the world, others you want to shut yourself away.
I am so proud of my body, and the bump i'm growing. Don't mistake this for me moaning, because I am so flippin' grateful for this experience. But I am also sick of feeling like public property, and working in a retail environment, hearing these comments are all too familiar. Instead of basing them on my appearance, it would be refreshing to hear more people ask how my pregnancy is going, how i'm feeling instead of telling me how big I'm getting.
Would we ever go up to a stranger in the street and comment on their size? Or run into an old friend from school 'I haven't seen you in years! has your nose always been that big?!' 'Your acne isn't as bad as it was in school' Why does it suddenly seem so acceptable when they are pregnant?
The mind boggles.
I'm sporting a big bump, but i'm growing one healthy baby. I'm trying to limit the unnecessary evening snacks, not because I medically have to, but because my partner's family have a history of birthing 10lber babies and that kinda puts the fear of God into me. But sometimes those salted caramel cookies are just too damn tempting.
I've done enough ranting, crying and moping about the house in over-sized tshirts these last few days to last me a lifetime. No more hiding away and having a pity party over meaningless throwaway comments.
I'm down to double digits now. My app says it's less than 94 days until we meet our baby, and as the kicks are getting stronger, it's all becoming very, very real.
I'm so excited to see what he/she looks like, I can't wait to see Eva's reaction to her new sibling, intrigued as to what he/she will look like, scared at the level of exhaustion i'm going to experience with two. But I can tell you that no amount of stretchmarks or numbers on the scale are going to change how ecstatic I am about meeting this little one. The one I feared I would never have the chance to. And if anything that makes me want to love my body that little bit more.
For what feels like a very long time now, I have been so mentally detached from all things 'baby'. Our good ol' trusty Perfect Prep machine that served us so well, is all boxed up and collecting dust in the attic. Meticulously sterilising bottles has become a thing of the past and I can't even recall the last time I had to nip into Mothercare for anything, and my bank account is delighted about that!
Pregnancy feels like a very vague, distant memory- more like a surreal dream if anything, and when a friend asks for advice or product recommendations for their little ones, I am dumbfounded-absolutely clueless. If it wasn't for my Blog and the baby book I wouldn't know off the top of my head when all these changes even occurred- When did she started sleeping through the night? When did a bottle every three hours turn to one a day? When did she start knowing she wanted cereal instead of pancakes?! When did it become so normal hearing her talk and telling me what she did at Nana and Grandpa's?
More importantly, how have we even managed this far?! I can't quite believe it, though I have the eye bags, and Stuart the grey hairs to show for it.
I literally cannot believe i'm about to write these words, but even the sleepless nights seem like a distant memory now, and it's only if you know me, or have ever read my Blog will you understand the enormity of that statement.
....and i've probably went and jinxed it.
The transition from little baby to toddler seemed to happen so suddenly, without us really even noticing.
One day we had a little baby who was dependent on us entirely, the next we had an independent little girl who just wants to run really fast and free, has no fear (...except loud noises!) She doesn't want to come in from the garden in the evenings for dinner and has learnt the word 'NO' .. throws some pretty impressive tantrums, and only ever in public.
But oh my- we are having the very best of times.
I loved having a newborn baby, I really did. I could have watched Eva sleeping for hours upon hours. The scent... ah that smell of a newborn alone is enough to make even the least maternal of people, broody. I absolutely love how scents can evoke a memory, and every time I open a box of Fairy non-bio, some Cusson's Mum and Me 'Bump' lotion or a packet of extra sensitive Johnstons wipes i'm immediately transported back to those early weeks, and it makes me feel all warm and cosy inside.
Staring down at those pouty lips and kissable cheeks, the teeny tiny little fingers and toes that grasp and curl. I loved the morning feeds tucked up in a toasty bed watching tv while she lay milk-drunk in my arms. I was very much happy in our maternity leave bubble. The world outside seemed to carry on at a fast pace, while we took it nice and easy, and only really had to make sure that we were washed, fed and dressed. If it was raining outside, we didn't have to go out. Visitors came and went, copious amounts of coffee and cake were consumed, and it really was a lovely little set up, and I honestly really would live it all over again if I could, and if some mystery benefactor could post a couple of grand through my letterbox.
All that cake eating is expensive.
But at the same time, I found being a mum to a new born really hard. Looking back it was probably more emotionally if anything, and it sounds kind of silly, because now I can't remember my life any other way, but I definitely mourned the loss of my 'old' life. I don't think I was really prepared for things to change just as much as they did, and I sure as hell never read about experiencing these feelings in any of my baby books.
It took me a very long time to adjust to our new lifestyle and I remember nights feeling so exhausted, and so frustrated and not really knowing who I was anymore. I'm totally aware that just sounded as cheesy as a Dawson's Creek script, (Joey, Pacey- anyone??) but it's true. I know in my case at times I felt so out of the loop knowing that everyone else was out at work, or had busy schedules all week long, while this was the first time in my life I had so much free time. Sometimes it felt like too much time.
Of course hindsight is a wonderful thing and having being back at work for over a year now, if given the chance to take a nine month paid leave, I'd be out that door like nobody's business, you wouldn't have to ask me twice.
I look at my almost two year old and honestly can't believe how quickly time has passed by and how much she has learnt and developed and grew in that space of that time. It's amazing to watch her little personality emerge, -bossy, but oh so sweet. She can talk for Britain, but soaks up information like a sponge. So feisty and independent, but i'll catch her eyes wander from across the park looking for me, just to make sure i'm there.
And i'm there, i'm always there. I'll stand and give her a great big smile, even when inside i'm wincing at how dirty her clothes are because she's carried about a stick she's found, in and amongst the trees, or she's pulled her bobble out and is rocking the bed head look in public.
But i'll put these thoughts to the back of my mind, because right now, it makes my heart so unbelievably happy to see her happy, no matter how muddy or scruffy she can be.
'Let them be little, 'cause they're only that way for a while. Give them hope, give them praise, give them love everyday. Let them cry, let them giggle, let them sleep in the middle. Oh.. just let them be little'
Dear Sarah,
So you're Pregnant?
Congratulations!
There is nothing to be scared of. I promise. The scary stuff kicks in after the baby arrives.
I'm only joking, but develop a thick skin and get used to these kind of comments- you'll be subjected to them all through your pregnancy, and after, and pretty much forevermore.. and usually, by strangers.
They don't need to know if your pregnancy was planned and if you are planning on breast feeding- tell them where to go or you'll have to endure countless tales of daughters, nieces and neighbours who caused their baby long lasting damage by over stretching or accidentally eating a sandwich with brie in it.
Just let these throwaway comments go through one ear and out the other or your nerves will be wrecked for the next nine months, and trust me, nine months when you're pregnant might as well be eighteen- and on that note, keep yourself busy.
Stuart will encourage you to get behind a team during the World Cup 'It'll make the pregnancy go in quicker for you' he will say. Don't listen to him, it wont.
People will also enjoy telling you the negatives about pregnancy, the heart burn, the insomnia, the errrr.. excess hair- but there are just as many absolutely amazing aspects too, like feeling your baby move, kick and hiccup.. the emotional bond you've developed with someone you've yet to meet. You will spend hours upon hours imagining and wondering what your baby could look like, what career she could have, and all the exciting memories you will share together in the future.
You'll will have never really thought into the future as much as you will now. In fact, some nights you will lay in bed riddled with anxiety at the thought of bringing your little girl into the big, bad world, it's something which will never leave you.
Try and embrace all the changes going on with your body. I know, I know... it's easier said than done, and pretty disheartening when you can fit into nothing but pjammas and Stuart's football attire- Sure, you are openly supporting Manchester United against your will, but one day you will miss that bump. The same bump that made it awkward to get out of bed, shave your legs (what a perfect excuse to stop...) and will make your sense of spacial awareness non existent- but I promise you this, you will miss it.
Just try and think of the bigger picture, nine months is nothing in the grand scheme of things, and you will one day look back and feel as though your pregnancy went by in a flash. Which is exactly why you should keep up to date with your Bump To Birthday book..especially now that you have the time to do it.
(there will still end up being gaps..)
Giving birth will be the most surreal and amazing experience.
It will leave you feeling sore, bruised and a little broken, but you will feel so elated that you will finally meet your little girl . You'll soon be quick to realise that the postpartum bit is generally the part people don't share with you, but these rollercoaster emotions are normal. So normal.
So don't go self diagnosing yourself too quickly, keep your mirror above your waist, give yourself time for you body to adjust, rest up when you can and don't be afraid to ask for help. Everyone needs help now and again- and you know you'll always prefer your mum's ironing.
Invest in some comfy pjammas, witch hazel, some dry shampoo and enjoy hibernating with your new little family, even if you do resemble some kind of squatter.
Maybe add some concealer on to the list while you're at it.
But it's a small price to pay to have this beautiful little baby nestled in your arms.
You will hear it time and time again, until you're sick of hearing it, but honestly, soak in all these moments, they go so quickly.. even those night feeds that feel like hours, they too will soon will pass and will be missed.
Every day she will do something different, capture these little moments, you will be amazed in months/years to come how much she has changed- so much so, you will doubt she is even the same baby.
There are going to be some hard times ahead, times when you will question your own sanity. There will be moments that you will not be able to look at Stuart in the eye out of pure hate, and he will 100% feel the same way about you, don't worry about that. You are both so new to this parenting malarkey, and it can be tough when you're just winging it, and both so stubborn. But you will get through it, and you will laugh about the hard times. You will pack up your belongings more than once and claim you are moving out, but a few Jack Daniel's will do that to a hormonal, sleep deprived woman.
So just go to bed and sleep it off.
Ain't nobody got time for a tearful drunk.
(Ok, so it may well be months down the line, but you will find the funny side.....)
Because every day it gets easier, and more normal, and familiar.
And it's only when you stop for a minute to reflect and look at an old photograph, or find an old baby suit or sock you are reminded of just how quickly time passes by and deep down you know you'd happily live through it all again, the sleepless nights, the teething and tantrums if you were only given half the chance.... if it meant getting to keep your little Girl close by your side for as long as possible.
You can do this, you are so capable.
Mummy guilt. or should I say, parent guilt.. (Dad's never seem to get a mention do they?)
Along with the perils of teething, over tired tantrums, and stretch marks in unmentionable places, Parent Guilt is just another one of those things you find out all about after having a baby (and maybe just as well )
Pre-baby I had very little to feel guilty about, and if I did, it was all trivial things like not swapping shifts with a co-worker, declining a night out or 'forgetting' to respond to a text.
Like I said, I had very little to feel guilty about.
Since becoming a mum I feel guilty over everything. Every little thing. Everyday, all day long - Like an emotional hamster wheel of guilt.
I'll worry if i've spent enough quality time with my daughter that day, then feel guilty that the house resembles a squatter's den because we spent the whole afternoon playing with every toy in the box.
I'll then clean and feel guilty that I want it to stay tidy and that i've hid the crayons, Peppa toys, slide and seesaw out of sight so that I don't have to put them away later.
I'll feel guilty that I put her down for her afternoon nap, and now the sun is shining and she's missing out on a beautiful day outside, yet deep down I know if I was to wake her i'd feel guilty that I disturbed her sleep and run the risk of her having a public emotional breakdown due to the sleep hanging out of her.
I worry that she watches too much tv, despite the fact she's quite capable without it and uses it as mostly background noise as she potters about the living room from toy to toy.
I feel guilty when she waves goodbye when she's comes along to drop me off to work, even though I decided to return to work to add to our income so we can live comfortably and treat her to nice things now and again.
I feel guilty that I enjoy time alone. I'm conscious that I don't make enough for my childless friends, that when I do i've missed out on big parts of their day to day lives because sometimes I can be so consumed in my own.
I feel guilty that I make my own partner feel guilty when he says he's tired or has had a rough day. Because God forbid the man might feel tired after a 10 hour day!
For flipsake, I feel guilty that i'm even feeling guilty about every thing instead of just enjoying every minute I have as a parent.
Literally every little thing turns into a reason to feel guilty about.
I read a comment on Facebook recently under a 'Unmumsy Mum' post, in which a woman said to remember this following statement in those guilt ridden or 'down day' moments
'Everyone fed, no one dead'
If we have achieved just that, surely we are all doing a wonderful job.
It's time to not let the guilt consume us, but rather in a weird way, embrace it ( unfortunately it never leaves- or so I am told) because it reminds us that we care, we want the very best for our children, it would be more concerning if we didn't have these worries, if we had given up all hope and didn't strive for better.
In years to come i'm almost certain (or I at least for my sake, hope) that my daughter doesn't remember that I didn't have her at every baby/toddler group going- because I shudder at the very thought of them, that chicken nuggets were a dinner time staple, or that it often took us until 12pm to leave the house.
But she'll remember the sunny days she spent in the park on the swings, nights she stayed up a little later because Grandparents were over, days at the beach and sunday morning in bed snuggled (or rather, wedged, feet in spine etc etc) between her Mummy and Daddy
Because at the end of the day, those are the things that she will remember and those above everything are the things that really matter, aren't they?
If you have ever been a reader of my blog, you will have been made very aware of our issues with sleep. Yep. I let everybody know. So much so, I was convinced for a while that the postman didn't even attempt knocking before posting the 'sorry we missed you' slip through the door, and sadly on my part, I really don't blame him.
It has taken me weeks to sit down and write this post for many different reasons. This has been the biggest challenge for me when it comes to motherhood. It left me feeling deflated for months, affected my relationship and to be perfectly honest let me feeling like a crap mum. How come everyone else's babies seemed to be sleeping? Where am I going so wrong? and when told by well-meaners that 'everybody goes through it' it left me reeling and defensive. If everybody went through it, I just couldn't fathom how people would go on to have more.
While that may sound a little harsh to some (and a bit sad really) sleep deprivation is no picnic. I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. It is a constant hangover, mixed with fatigue and that surreal feeling that comes along with jet lag. When I managed to nod off, I would wake up minutes later thinking I had dropped Eva, despite the fact she was safe in her moses basket. It was terrifying and I honestly didn't know how we were meant to be caring for this beautiful baby when we were too tired to look after ourselves, there are only so many cups of coffee your body can consume in a day.
I'll just chuck in a little disclaimer at this stage and say that this blog isn't intended to be a negative one, i'm not looking for a pity party either, rather it is one for all those new mum's out there going through the same thing, and there are plenty. You are far from alone.
It does get easier. And if it doesn't get easier, you certainly get used to it. In the meantime stock up on concealer and coffee to help you ride out the storm.
Eva is now thirteen months and it is only when we look back we realise how far she has come in regards to her sleeping, I mean wow we are often treated to stretches of up to five hours . Yes so we are still co-sleeping- and enjoying it, most of the time- all apart from the erratic arm movements and toes in the spinal region) but we're definitely progressing.
It was only after her 12/13 month jabs which has sent her sleeping up the left again has it really reminded me of those challenging early days and with these feelings ripe in my mind I thought it was the perfect time to blog about our sleep journey.
We were never really off to a good start in the sleep department. From around 30 weeks I suffered from pretty bad pregnancy insomnia. Many nights I'd wake at 3am and take myself downstairs where I could still be found when Stuart was leaving for work. Luckily back then it was just a case of mauling my way through a box of cheerios and crawling back into bed, emerging only for lunch and (lets be honest), pee breaks. So as hard as the lack of sleep at night seemed, I managed by napping sporactically during the day. I was on easy street and didn't even know it.
Fast forward to the first few months of Eva's life when sleeping was non existent, it got to the point we were asking the doctor HOW was it possible that our daughter was surviving on so little sleep? it could not be healthy.
She didn't take to her moses basket (We tried three) Refused to sleep in her cot, hated her bouncer, we even tried parking her pram beside our bed if it meant we could have an hour of continuous sleep, but that too was short lived.
We read every sleep related website, every message board and forum. People recommended sleep training books and we had family cutting out newspaper articles in the hope they would help. Our brains were so consumed with information on how to implement the best bedtime routine that we could have been sleep professionals, yet our own baby hadn't quite got the memo.
When reading articles by so called 'experts' or listening to fellow mummies who had their bedtime routine down to a T I would find myself frustrated especially when they would offer their own pearls of wisdom. Don't get me wrong, i'm very open to suggestions- I don't exaggerate when I say we were desperate and would try anything, but
ohhh we have heard it all. Put her to bed earlier, keep her up later, try baby massage, a bath, bottle and book. porridge to keep her going longer through the night, lullabies, a night light, controlled crying, the shush pat method, lavender spray, sleeping bags, a rigid set routine, blackout blinds, drop a nap, add a nap, dream feed... Everything!
While we attempted a good few, with the exception of controlled crying (this mama is just not cut out for it) we quite naturally fell into the good ol' controversial Co-Sleeping.
That's were they're going wrong' people may say. and it very often comes out of the mouths of those with snoozy little sleepers that like to clock up to 12 hours of sleep a night (Yes! I said it) but anyone who has been through something similar will know that you do whatever you have to do to get some sleep, even if it is only a 30 minute powernap- For your health, for your sanity
While i'm not saying co-sleeping is 100% the route to go down, after all there are (like most things in life) risks involved but it certainly worked for us and we do most nights manage to get at least six hours of solid sleep, however it was very gradual and definitely didn't happen over night- try six months. I've found that co-sleeping is such a taboo subject, one that some mum's don't like to admit they do out of fear of being judged which is completely ridiculous and upsetting that they should feel judged over their choice of parenting. I know I can definitely relate. No first time mum wants to feel as though they are failing, that they are doing something wrong.
I've accepted that as long as you follow appropriate safety precautions and your baby is happy and healthy you are doing an amazing job. You know your own baby best.
As confident as I sound in regards to co:sleeping, for us it was definitely a case of desperate times call for desperate measures. There were nights the two of us would take turns pacing the hallway literally crying with exhaustion. Our own mum's at the other end of the phone offering to take Eva so we could pull ourselves together. So while we enjoy the closeness that comes along with co sleeping, if we are ever blessed with another baby we have both firmly agreed our bed is unfortunately off limits.
The next challenge for us is moving Eva into her toddler bed and oh what a challenge it will be but with those 5.5 size feet not getting any smaller and being wedged into my spine through the night i'm ready to accept that now is the right time.
On another note I have the utmost respect for single mothers/fathers/those whose partners work away and don't have the option of a few hours kip at the weekend while their partner holds the fort downstairs or even just the ability to jump in the shower for 10 minutes and zone out. But if I have learnt anything about parenthood it is that your body has this remarkable, mind boggling way of pushing you on through the exhaustion- after all there is no phoning in sick, no staying in bed all day to catch up on ZZzzz's. There are days you run on empty and somehow seem to pull yourself together and get somehow, get through it.
So there it is. I put my hands up and admit I have no advice. None whatsoever. No tips or tricks or even my own pearls of wisdom.I simply offer some glimmering hope that one day soon it all clicks into place with your little one and that googling 'how to get my baby to sleep' at an ungodly hour will soon be a thing of the past.
The hormonal, sleep deprived Sarah with the Uncle Fester eye bags would have cursed at anyone writing that, 'Cheers for the help' and in a way I find it so entirely bizarre that I am and touch wood, it stays that way. But one thing I know for sure, it that it has all been worth it to have this little lady in our lives. Every last sleepless night.
x
