superbaby

I know I'm biased but I think Skittle is pretty special. In NICU he often used to shoot one arm up in the air superman style and quickly gained the nickname 'Incredababy' between hubs and I.

A friend of mine had a 'superbaby' vest for her little one, only they live in America and I didn't think I'd find one here. But low and behold mothercare stocked a t-shirt version, hurrah! But then it was out of stock...nooooo!

Last week a friend came round and had sourced a babygro from somewhere...it's so cute!

Here he is modelling it...

He's so handsome. And that little curly baby finger resting on the sofa just melts me.

Superskittle!

eight months

8? Really?! How did that happen?

The monthly photos this time had to be taken on my phone :( because our camera was in a box, or in the car, or in another flat, or in another land, we don't know where anything is!

The location was my parent's woodstore and Skittle was wearing a super cute little bear outfit that is nearly too small so we wanted to get some snaps before it was too late.

He's wearing little boots that his Great Grandad bought him the day he died. They're very special boots that sort of deserve a post all of their own. Sadly I thought they were bigger and they actually wouldn't fit on Skittle's feet...oh well, they're photographed now!

At 8 months Skittle loves to bang his hand on the table, the duvet, our faces, our hands, his muslin, anything he can get his little hand on really. He loves books, especially "that's not my" usborne books. He likes chicken and rusks. He has started to drink from a cup, although we all end up very wet and he swallows very little! He likes to shake his black and white book. He has a fantastic range of facial expressions and likes to scratch everything that comes near him.

Happy 8 months gorgeous boy!

this flat

Dear Flat,

I don't like you. I don't like your smell. I don't like your hallway. I don't like your loo. I don't like your walls. I don't like your entrance.

I know you're really pretty. I know you're beautifully decorated. I know you're the nicest flat we've ever lived in. I know you're in a lovely location, with a lawn and a carpark.

I appreciate how generous your owner is. I appreciate her kindness and flexibility. I appreciate her willingness to let us live here for less than the rent market dictated.

I thought you were perfect. I thought you would be our happy home for many years. I thought we'd make amazing memories in you. I thought we'd be friends for a long time. I thought I could imagine us here for a whole lot longer.

But the thing is flat, I don't like you.

I remember the time we moved in and hated your second room. I remember thinking I hate you second room, you're supposed to be for our baby but we've miscarried twice and I wonder if you'll ever be needed. I remember when my pregnant sister in law came to stay and how much it hurt. I remember wondering if I'd be able to get out of bed in the morning because I felt so low. I remember dragging myself to work on the tube for weeks. I remember so many pregnancy tests. I remember the positive one. I remember the fear. I remember the pain. I remember the cramps. I remember the bleeding. I remember the crying.

I still think of the sickness, the staring down the loo, the silly seat that doesn't stay up. I still think of the time I would put bananas outside the front door because I couldn't cope with the smell. I still think of the time I thought I would pass out while hubs was in the shower. I still think of the time I fainted in the bedroom, under the table, in the lounge. I still think of the terror before each hospital trip. I still think of the sleepless nights and the agony of pregnancy.

I picture myself alone in the lounge without Skittle. I picture myself sobbing while I was too sick to visit NICU for long. I picture myself expressing night after night after night. I picture myself trying to nest when I'd missed the nesting phase. I picture myself home with Skittle and hubs struggling more and more and more. I picture myself isolated, too scared to leave the house, too afraid to tell anyone how I felt. I picture myself depressed and self harming. I picture myself blank and failing.

So I know you're great flat. I know you are lovely and very pretty. I know you were our first home as a family of 3. I know we will always look back on you with an odd fondness.

But flat, I just don't like you. Don't take it personally. It's just I'm not going to miss you. It's not you, it's me. Maybe one day we'll meet again, we'll pay you a visit and reflect on our time here in a different light, but until then I can't wait to go our separate ways.

All the best for the future,

Your tenant x

it wasn't supposed to be this way

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

We were going to live here for a good few more years.

We were going to enjoy this lovely flat.

We were going to share child care and I was going to return to work.

We were going to have more children.

I wasn't meant to be so sick.

I wasn't meant to have PTSD or PND.

Skittle wasn't supposed to be early.

He wasn't supposed to be apart from us.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Sitting on the lounge floor tonight, our last night in this home. Sobbing and praying with hubs, so sad that it's come to this. Absolutely relieved to be moving nearer family, so grateful that hubs got a new job, so thankful that Skittle is here and growing, so overwhelmed when we look back over the last 4 years. But so sad that everything we planned has been turned upside down.

We're looking forward to this new season though. We're looking forward to a new home that's not marred with memories of pain and illness and heartache. We're looking forward to a new chapter. We're looking forward to a different pace. We're looking forward to some space and some time to heal.



Deep breaths, here's to the future.

what a day

I feel like I'm in a washing machine! I had the most intense, raw, painful, productive, beneficial counselling session this morning. As I came out hubs told me he got the new job! Which means we get to relocate and live nearer our families...which is a massive relief...and really exciting. But it's also kind of sad...we never planned for things to be this way, we didn't think we'd be moving for a good few years yet. But everything of the last 4 years and in particular our NICU nightmare has had such a huge impact on us that we just can't stay. This job, this move, this choice is definitely the right thing for our family. We're just sad it had to be this way. But we're so incredibly pleased to be moving. It's hard to balance. Then I found a journal I wrote at the time of our second miscarriage while I was packing and it just added to the momentous, pivotal nature of the day. I sat their with Skittle on my lap reading it feeling completely overwhelmed. So many tears, so many prayers, so much has happened. I am one grateful, exhausted, spinny girly today. Don't know whether I'm coming or going!

Trying to tell family on skype that hubs got the job!

mixed bag

Well hubs has gone back to work. Having had 2 months off to avoid wife PND hospital admission, this week was the week that had loomed. 

I felt ready. Ish. 

We had done almost everything I had wanted to manage alone, so that when it came to flying solo I could indeed fly, not fall. I had gone to the shops, got used to being out the flat more and generally just become slightly more socially acceptable. 

That said, it's been a mixed bag. There have been moments that I've loved. Moments I'm proud of and enjoyed. Moments that I'll cherish. I popped Skittle in the sling and we walked round the corner to a friends house. 

I walked. With Skittle. Round the corner. To a friends house. Me. Baby. Yay. 

This is a big deal. Even if it sounds like I'm maybe going a bit over the top. To me, this was huge. 

I sent hubs a picture of us all wrapped up and ready to go!

Then there were also moments where I felt so overwhelmed, out of my depth and depressiony. Where I don't think I said anything for a couple of hours and can't remember time passing, where I blanked off. I hate that. Skittle doesn't deserve that. 

And the other thing, something that made a really big difference. The fact that I only actually had one day on my own. Of the three days that hubs was back on shift, my Mum and sisters came to stay for 2 of them. So really it wasn't that big a deal. I had company and plans. 

I am trying to focus on the positive and say it was a good start. We did well. We did so much better than before. Skittle is so much bigger and into books and toys, he isn't anaemic anymore and doesn't sleep as much. I loved spending time with him and doing his veggies and reading him stories. 

But then the positive disappears behind the nagging voices that I didn't really do that well at all. That it's been 8 months and I am ridiculous for thinking that one day is an achievement  That it's pathetic that I have to put such effort into something that is so natural. That there are wonderful single parents, who are friends of mine, some with 4 kids, doing a fabulous job every flippin day, all day. So why am I so crap at it? 

And Skittle is so adorable, cute and easy. He hardly cries and isn't crawling or even sitting so he doesn't need chasing around. So what am I so scared of?