Finding time to reflect

So I’ve set myself the task of looking back from time to time.

We all spend so much time fixated on achieving our next goal that we sometimes forget to look at back at where we started.

From a personal growth point of view I think I’ve learnt how to be more open. I now can let people know how I am feeling. Something that I’ve always bottled up and pushed to one side. I’ve finally managed to use the words ‘I’m struggling’

Before Oliver came along I’ve never ever admitted that. How can you get to 28 and never admit that you’re struggling? I haven’t even used it in terms of juggling getting a baby ready and sorting myself. I’ve used it in the emotional sense.  Struggling would probably be an understatement for how I’d felt the day I’d used it. It was a bad day, Oliver pulled his tube out, I had a mad panic to get him ready to get out of the house and up to the hospital to get it replaced and finish his feed, get home, feed myself and get myself to baby massage. I didn’t get to baby massage. I got back into the house and cried. Not because I was sad but because I was frustrated. Being a creature of habit and a compulsive planner I know how long it takes to do everything and can always plan my days so that I’m able to get out and to places on time. That went out the window. That’s an emotional strain on me straight away because I get stressed when things aren’t moving smoothly. Then to go up to the hospital to get the tube put back in after seeing his beautiful little face without a giant teddy bear sticker holding down a tube is hard. I know that he needs it, he wouldn’t survive very long without it but I love that little face, he looks so different without it.

I think emotionally it tugs at me seeing him that way because in my head that’s how my baby should be. I’ve accepted he has what he has but it doesn’t stop me still having moment of weakness where I could be like all the other mums I know. No tubes, no extra stuff to sterilise, not having hundreds of appointments, being able to make your own judgement calls without having several different health professionals telling you that you can or can’t do that.

I was also tired. I’ve complained about being tired before I had the baby. This is a whole different kind of tired to what I knew before having a baby. This is ‘cant find the right words’ tired, for those reading this that haven’t had a baby and think you’ve been tired. Imagine the time you were most tired, now imagine doing the same thing day in day out and loving almost every moment of it but not getting that one full sleep that you need to recharge. Before you say it,  whoever made this line has also never had a baby, ‘sleep when the baby sleeps’. Do you know what you’re doing when the baby sleeps? Everything that you’d normally try to fit in the day. Cleaning, cooking, eating, bathing and even going to the toilet.

I seem to have digressed a little here. Anyway I’ve finally admitted when I’m struggling. I typed the text through teary eyes and flopped onto the couch and ordered a yogbar. Did you know you can get that delivered? Well I didn’t and you have to spend £10 to get it delivered. I’ve now got a stash of it in the feeezer for ’emergencies’ I realise now on reflection that:

  1. That wasn’t an emergency but I’m glad I ordered yogbar in
  2. I felt so much better for telling someone I’m struggling
  3. I wasn’t actually struggling emotionally from a mental perspective it was struggling emotionally from being tired, so very, very, very tired.

So emotionally I have grown, I feel I may have matured and that’s why I can hold my hands up now and tell people how I feel.

As a couple – now those who know mine and Mikes relationship know that we aren’t soppy. In fact we’re probably the complete opposite of what teenagers imagine a proper relationship is. He’s my best friend and my rock. I talk to him about everything. Probably far too much sometimes and share things that no one wants to know.

For the highly strung individuals we are, our relationship is built solidly on trust and we’re both incredibly independent people so we both have our own friends and go on our own nights out. We have high expectations of each other that we never seem to have to discuss but we seem to maintain them without any problems.

I knew when we found out we were pregnant that it’d change our relationship and that when the baby came it’d change our relationship again. I never realised how much having baby can change a relationship. I think we’re both now more patient with each other and I’ve found new things about him that I love. I’m so glad that we’ve both grown together and stayed just as united, if not more, with everything that we’ve gone through because it hasn’t been easy and it’s not always going to be easy but I’ve realised more than anything that no one else out there could be a better dad for Oliver.

Now for Oliver.

When I started this blog I’d been left in for the night while Mike went on a night out. For the first time in a month or so Mike and I had spent the night away from each other. Not for long, just a few hours but when you’ve been side by side for so long (pretty much from mid October we were like Siamese twins right up until his return to work in January) I was left with my own thoughts, which is dangerous at the best of times. In the two and a bit months since Olivers been home he’s progressed so well. I have moments where I feel like we aren’t getting anywhere but:

  • he’s gone from drinking 5mls to averaging 60mls a time and has even got up to the occassional 90mls recently.
  • He has started smiling and laughing and his little personality is starting to shine through.
  • His weight has now more than doubled since birth and he’s finally out of newborn clothes and into 0-3 month old. I did get excited I think that he was in 3-6 month clothes….he is NOT that big yet but it amused me to no end looking at the size of the 3-6 month clothes on him and remembering that’s what the new born clothes looked like when he was born.
  • He now has the most gorgeous rolls. They’re on his thighs and his little arms. I can grab his little chest and shout ‘boobies, boobies, boobies’ at him (he finds this as fun as I do) and he also finds it hilarious when I shout ‘pooooey’ when I open up a dirty nappy.
  • I’ve finally found someone who finds me funny and appreciates my daft repetitive songs.

My post cover pic is evidence of how well he’s getting on. That skinny little baby is well and truly gone

He came home pretty much like a little doll that didn’t really do much and he’s now a baby, he’s my baby and I’m so proud of every little thing that he’s doing. 

Whys Roo getting in on my photo?!

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