Then and now

It has been almost 10 months since i separated from Betsy's dad. It feels like a lot longer if I'm honest. To look back on where i was and who i was all those months ago seems strange, like a totally different person. I feel like so much has happened since then. 

There was so much i was worried about, so much i genuinely didn't think i would be able to deal with on my own. 

I worried i would regret it. 

I worried i wouldn't ever be able to shake off the guilt that is attached to such a life changing decision. 

I worried that Betsy would be affected and struggle with the fact that her mummy and daddy aren't together anymore.

I worried that it would have a negative affect on my ability to be a mum, something that i knew i already found hard. 

I worried that i wouldn't be able to cope financially.

I worried that my mental health issues would go into overdrive.

I had no confidence in myself. I felt worn down. I had become so reliant upon one person that the thought of going it alone utterly terrified me. Terrified me to the point that i found myself truly believing i didn't want to be here anymore.

It scares me how trapped i felt. All through my own doing, letting myself get to a point where i literally believed i couldn't cope without them. 

All of those things i worried about were wasted worries. I have been fine, i am fine, and i will carry on being fine. 

Admittedly Betsy's dad has stepped in a couple times to have Betsy etc when i have been struggling with my depression. What i am fast learning though is that i have the most amazing friends around me. People who know me and know when i am getting bad. People that i am no longer afraid of being honest with, people that i know love me and would never judge me. Ive realised how needlessly i relied on him. 

All those months ago i couldn't see how things would improve. But honestly taking that step has been one of the best decisions of my life. I cannot put into words how totally empowering it is to be in control of me. Silly things, like the fact that i rely on me and only me to pay my bills. I can decide what i want to watch on the tv, or where i want to hang that picture, or what i want to have for tea. Totally ridiculous things, but things all the same. 

For the first time in a long time i don't feel like i am reliant on anyone, i don't need anyone. Everyone i have in my life are people i am genuinely happy to be sharing it with, not people that i feel like i have to have because i won't manage without them. 

Being a single mum is never something i envisioned happening. In this day and age there are so many negative connotations attached to such a title. Granted, there are a minority of people who live up to these stereotypes. But that doesn't mean we all fall under the same umbrella. I'm sure i can speak for a lot of people when i say breaking up my family was by far and wide the hardest thing i have ever done in my life. It is not something i did because i was bored, or because i thought i would be better off, or because i wanted to have every other weekend to myself and go out. 

I started writing this post without any clue of where it was actually going to go, i just felt like i wanted to reflect on things, to remind myself of where i was and where i am now. But i guess maybe i just want to reach out to anyone else who is in the position i was in, or any tough time in their lives, and tell you that it will be ok. Things might be shit at the moment, they might get shittier, but one day i promise you will look back at this time and feel so incredibly proud of yourself. All those silly things people told you, all the negative comments, all the doubts and the opinions and the i know best-ers. The people who are convinced you will regret it, that you won't be happy, that you won't cope. 

You totally will. You will shine like a star my dear. 

My belated new year resolutions

I cringe at the cheesy clichedness of this statement, but 2016 is going to be my year. I really totally mean it. I am absolutely determined. Making the adjustment to single parent last year made me realise so so much. Mainly, it made me notice how much i hold myself back. There is so many things i want to do, and so few reasons as to why i have not done them. There is so much i want to change. 

So, this is going to be the year it happens. Or at least begins to anyway. 

I want to address my mental health issues. And keep re addressing them, over and over again, however many times it takes. I want to reach a point where i am not longer controlled by them. Whatever it takes, i need to do it. I have lost so much to depression and anxiety and all of the horribleness that comes with it. I do not want to continue to taint mine and Betsy's days with it. I am on new meds for my anxiety, alongside my regular ones. I am finally biting the bullet and going for CBT, and i am going to stick at it and keep going with it. I have so much that i know i need to deal with in order to move on from this horribleness. And i am so determined to do it.

I am going to start an access course at college. I am going to start hopefully this September, if not definitely next one. I am going to organise myself and my finances to enable this to happen. For so so long i have wanted to be a social worker. I want to work with children and families. Doing an access course will enable me to go on to do my degree, so that i can become one. 

I am going to pass my driving test! Yes, i may have said this every year for the last 5 years, but this year i am definitely going to do it. 

I am going to learn to cook. Obviously i already know how to cook, but i mean really cook. I'm going to start eating healthier, I'm going to stop being so lazy and ignorant to my health. This has been kick started by the fact that i have gone up nearly two dress sizes in recent months! But also because it is simply not good to survive on chocolate and not much else. I am tired all the time and always feel sluggish and i put it largely down to my diet. More water, more veg, more healthy cooking. Less chocolate. We'll see how i get on with that one...

I am going make sure i have 'me time'. I am going to go out more, see friends, do whatever it is that makes me happy. I'm going to be selfish every now and then. I'm going to put more effort into my appearance, and not constantly feel that being a mum is an excuse to look like a state each and every day of my life. I am going to try and stop dwelling on the bad stuff, and getting worked up over the small things, and just be. 

And of course, most importantly, i am going to be the absolute best i can be for Betsy. 

The not-very-obvious

Most of us are judgmental, myself included. We automatically come up with assumptions and opinions of things we are witness to, a lot of the time before we have even thought about it with any sense of rationale. We cannot help it. I cannot help it, despite the fact that i have huge anxiety issues. 

My anxiety focuses a lot on what people think of me. I have massive social anxiety. Whenever i am out in public, i panic. If i am with someone else, this distracts me massively and i am fine. But when i'm on my own it is traumatic to say the least. My mind is constantly going, wondering what people are thinking. 

Anxiety can manifest itself in an infinite number of ways. There is no single type of behaviour that sufferers display. It affects us all differently. To the blind eye, it can conceal itself as anything.

The ignorant mother at the toddler group. The one who never speaks to anyone, never takes any notice of what others are saying, comes across as rude and stand offish, doesn't interact with any child apart from her own. 

The lazy work colleague. The one who never seems to really do anything, who says they are happy to do things but never does them, who constantly frustrates you with their inability to pull their weight. 

The rubbish friend who always backs out of plans at the last minute, despite how enthusiastic they seemed when you were initially making those now cancelled plans. The one who never seems to make an effort, who you know isn't particularly reliable, who you never really hear from, then all of a sudden they are your best friend again.

The weird girl you are stood behind in the que in Costa. The one who is sweating profusely, disgustingly, yet it is the middle of December. The one who trips over her words when she orders. 

The selfish parent who never seems to have anything good to say about their child, who never shows an interest in their child, whose only concern seems to be with themselves.

Things aren't always as black and white as they seem. 

Replace all of the words in bold with anxious, and therein lies the explanation for those behaviours. 

That mother isn't ignorant, she desperately wants to talk to you but she is worried she will say something stupid and embarrass herself. That colleague isn't lazy, she just doesn't believe that she is capable of doing whats being asked of her, she has to use all of her energies to focus on getting through the day without breaking down. That friend isn't rubbish, she hates herself for cancelling on you yet again but she just isn't strong enough right now to go through with it but as soon as she is she will be your best friend again, and the cycle will repeat. That girl isn't weird, she is counting to 10 in her head over and over and desperately trying to stave off the panic attack that is threatening to happen at any moment. That parent isn't selfish, she just has no confidence in her ability to look after her child, she is deeply affected by her traumatic birth and no one has offered her any support, preventing her from bonding with her child properly. 

I don't want to be seen as any of those words written in bold, but i can almost guarantee that i have been, and in some cases i probably still am. These are the kinds of labels we put on people who behave this way. We are just too quick to judge and assume. 

Anxiety has stripped me of almost all of my confidence in every aspect of my life. I, like so many other people in the same situation, have perfected this mask of mine that i wear day in day out. The one that tells me to get through each situation as best as i can. 

The point of this long winded rambling post is just to remind myself and you to try and look beyond the obvious. Don't write off that mother at toddler group who never speaks, or that friend who always cancels last minute. None of us have any idea of what internal battles the next person is dealing with. None of us have been in another persons shoes, none of us know how someone else thinks and feels. 

Anxious mummy monday

It is 5.34am and I am typing this after a very shit night with Betsy. I had another post lined up for today, a positive non moany one, but that will have to wait, simply because i am so worked up and anxious and I'm not quite sure what to do about it.

I have had such an awful night with Betsy. She has alternated between my bed and hers, woken every other hour and taken ages to get to sleep. She demands a bottle every time she wakes up. I usually end up giving her a couple of ounces, which i then fret over because i know I'm just making things worse. She woke up earlier at 4.20am and i refused to give her one, and she screamed and cried for a whole hour. Relentlessly. Until my only options were to give her one or get up. Given that we were both incredibly worked up and probably quite unlikely to go back to sleep, we are up. 

At the age of two, i know that by now she should probably not really be having bottles, at least no where near the amount she has. She has one before her nap in the mornings. She has one at bedtime. She has one a couple of hours later when she wakes up. On a good night thats all she has. But on the bad ones, which are pretty regular at the moment, she will wake up another 2-3 times, sometimes more. Each time she demands a bottle. She will shout and scream for one. Very very occasionally i am able to coax her back in to bed and she will go off to sleep without one, but that is really hardly ever. When i do give in, i only give her a couple of ounces of milk, so its not like she is having full bottles throughout the night.

I wouldn't have such a problem with this if it didn't affect her during the day, but it does. She will not eat. She picks at things but rarely actually eats anything. Maybe there are lots of reasons for this, but i cannot help feeling like it is her nighttime bottles that are the issue. I just do not know what to do. I feel totally lost. I am just so worked up about it all. I cannot believe that she is still such a terrible sleeper. 

I have briefly spoken to her dad about it, who has the same problems. I feel like she is worse for me, although in reality its probably more likely that she's the same for both of us. I don't know what to do. Every single night i dig myself into a deeper hole. I have no control, i let her walk all over me. I genuinely cannot see any of this getting any better, and i feel like I'm not good enough. Being a single parent i feel like i have no one to turn to or deal with this alongside. So unfortunately you will all have to hear about it instead.

I know to lots of people i'll seem like i am over reacting and maybe once I'm a bit calmer i'll think the same. But right now i am so incredibly worked up about it and i just had to get it out. 

It makes it that little bit worse that i have my first counselling/CBT telephone consultation today at 11.30, which i am dreading. Right now i feel like i just want to beg them to cart me off somewhere. Not that i will, nor would they do that. But my anxiety is through the roof.

I am so gutted that this has to follow my last blog post, which was a lot more positive! 

(Us in happier times. Definitely not this morning!!!)

Me and my one

I have been iffing and butting about posting on here. I felt like i lost my blogging mojo for good a long time ago and nobody would be interested in what i had to say. I wasn't sure i would even know what to write on here anymore. I read some of my most popular and favourite posts back. So much has happened these last few months and i feel completely detached to some of my previous posts. It all feels different but the same. 

I started my blog because i wanted somewhere i could go to vent. Somewhere i could just be totally honest and not worry about what people might think or say. Initially it was just something to do, but i quickly saw it a bit like a form of therapy. It helped me so much. I was able to explain things about myself to those closest to me that i would never have had the guts to say otherwise. It helped me to realise that i wasn't alone with how i felt, that i wasn't abnormal. 

I'm in a totally different place now to where i was a year ago, and i cannot believe how much has changed. I never ever would have imagined i would be living by myself with Betsy and actually coping! Enjoying my time with her, no longer counting down the hours till bedtime. Well, at least not as often as i was! I feel more confident in my abilities to look after her. I am happy when she is with me, i miss her when she is not. I am so proud of everything she does. I go out with her, i do things with her that i never used to feel able to do. Things that to other people seem silly and completely insignificant, but to me, with all my 'issues' and anxieties, are huge.

I am finally enjoying being a mummy. 

I am completely and utterly ashamed to admit that i didn't used to like it very much. Those closest to me as well as regular readers of this blog will know that, and will know how much i have struggled with things. Whilst i have of course always loved and adored every part of my daughter, i didn't really like my new role. I just couldn't ever get to grips with it, with how much of a huge unimaginable responsibility it was. I couldn't cope with all of the doubts and fears i had about myself. I remember at times feeling like she deserved so much more. Feeling like i was failing her incredibly, and i couldn't do anything about it. So many times i came so close to asking her Dad to take her from me. 

The last couple of months i feel like something has been switched on inside of me. Something has changed. I have no idea what, but something has shifted, and i have a slightly different perspective on everything. 

Me and Betsy have a bond unlike anything i ever had nor ever will have with anyone else. It is a complete cliche but she really is my one and only reason to carry on. I have had so many horrible horrible times these last few months, and she has been my constant. It is incredible how much i rely on her, and how much she lifts me without even realising it. How someone so small and stubborn can have such a powerful effect on me. I cannot put it into words. But i suddenly feel like everything is fine. I suddenly realise that as long as i have her, nothing else in the world matters. 

I hate that i have lacked this feeling for so much of her life so far. I hate it. I am ashamed and appalled. I think about all those times i wished her babyhood to go away. All the times i never appreciated those sleepy cuddles at 3am. All the times i just wanted her to be content and play with her toys by herself for once. To just leave me alone, to just stop needing my attention every minute of the day. 

If i could i would go back to day one in a heartbeat, and i would start again. I would cherish every single second of it. I would take none of it for granted. I would be the mummy that she has always deserved. Instead, i just need to be the mummy she has always deserved from now on. 

She is the reason i wanted to continue this blog. To let anyone else who feels the way i used to feel know that it really does get better. So much of this so far has been so negative. And i am sure there will be more to come too. We all know that no matter how lovely everything seems to be, there will always always be horrible days. But for the most part i just want this to be somewhere i can reflect on everything with her, and write down my worries rather than letting them affect me and in turn, her. Somewhere i can continue to vent, but also, for the first time, write about how wonderful it is to be a mummy to my gorgeous, beautiful little lady. 

Who still drives me insane every single day. 

A slight rant.

 By doing this blog i completely understand that i am opening myself up to peoples thoughts and opinions of me and what i do or say. I get that and i am absolutely fine with that. I know people aren't always going to agree with me on some things. And i totally respect that.

What i am not ok with is it being assumed that i cannot possibly be a decent mum for no reason other than the fact i have a mental illness. That even though my daughter is a thriving, happy little girl, i must be doing a shit job because I'm "mental" or because "i have issues" (Yep, people have used these very words to describe me).

How dare anyone put me, and effectively any other parent with mental illness, in the same category as those who neglect and abuse their children simply because i suffer with depression. An illness. Something i cannot help.

This is exactly why there is such a stigma attached to mental health conditions. Why so many people suffer but won't ask for help for fear of being judged. Why so many new mums struggle every single day with post natal depression, pretending they are ok, but ultimately missing out on so much because they are constantly at war with themselves. Why people find themselves in awful scary situations because they are too afraid to reach out for help. 

And what irritates me so much is it is people who have NEVER experienced any form of mental illness that are so SO quick to judge those of us who have. 

Since when has it been ok to constantly criticise and speak badly on a matter you have no fucking idea about? To label and stereotype a potentially very vulnerable group of people because you are too small minded and ignorant to see the bigger picture? 

I am so completely and utterly sick of hearing it. 

The only advice i can give to these kinds of people is the following:

1. Educate yourself - 

http://www.mind.org.uk

http://www.rethink.org/home

http://www.time-to-change.org.uk

2. Stop reading my blog. 

Rock Bottom

This is a post i have had in my drafts for a long time, but i haven't had the courage to publish. Only a few close friends and family know what you are about to read. I have spent a very long time being ashamed and embarrassed about it. Feeling weak and pathetic and undeserving. I have finally accepted that this happened because i wasn't in my right frame of mind, i wasn't 'me'. It feels totally alien to read it now. I should also warn some you that there are some potential triggers within this post. 

If I'm honest suicide is something that i haven't ever really fully understood. Ive never been able to get my head around how someone can feel like death is the only way out of a situation, no matter how bad a situation they were in. Particularly people who have family and friends around them. I have found myself in awful places in my life where i have felt like i will never get to the other side, but never suicidal. 

And yet this is exactly where i found myself when i finally decided i couldn't continue with my relationship with Betsy's dad.  

I couldn't carry on being in a relationship with someone i didn't love. Someone who deserved so much better than me. 

I couldn't live with the guilt of admitting this to him and breaking his heart. My heart. Ripping our family apart.

I couldn't even begin to comprehend how i could continue to live my life on my own, when i struggled so much with things already despite knowing i have someone by my side to help me. 

I couldn't bear the thought of Betsy having to be stuck with me and only me when i am having bad bad days and the thought of leaving the house makes me want to cry. With no one to walk through the door in the evening and sort everything out.

I just couldn't do any of it. All that stood before me was the longest blackest tunnel, with not even the faintest hint of a light at the end of it. 

And so, on that day, i very calmly decided i would simply remove myself from the situation.

I had the loveliest morning with my girl. I arranged for her Nanny to pick her up for the afternoon. 

I wrote my notes. One for Ashley. One for Betsy. I begged them to forgive me, to not forget about me. I tried to explain why this had to happen. I cannot remember exactly what i put. I was numb. I was emotionless. 

And i went upstairs. I went into Betsy's room, picked up her pillow and took it into my bedroom. I sat on the bed and clung to it, staring into space. I thought about what i was going to do. And i panicked.

I called for an ambulance. I told them i was not safe to be left on my own, i told them exactly what i planned to do to myself. I cried, begging them to help me. The rest of the day is a blur. 

I was taken to hospital. I was met there by Ashley, who had rushed straight from work. My notes had been found and read, he knew why i wanted to do it. He knew i didn't love him. He told me he didn't care, that he will always be there for me. That it wasn't my fault i didn't love him. He continued to be amazing. 

He reminded me that i was a mother to a beautiful girl, a girl who adored me and loved me. 

I hated myself more then i had ever thought was possible. For the many hours i was in that hospital, i wished desperately i hadn't of been such a coward, that i had gone through with it.  

 I was broken. 

I was spoken to by a doctor and nurse. They weren't sure whether it was safe for me to be allowed to go home. They spoke about sending me somewhere, I've no idea where. Ashley left me briefly to go home and get some things for me. Eventually i saw a member of the mental health crisis team within the hospital. I will forever be grateful to this lovely lady and the things she said to me. I was terrified they were going to take Betsy away from me, that was all i could think about. How could i be allowed to be a mother to her after all of this? She reassured me that this wouldn't happen. And of course it didn't. After a long chat we agreed that it would be ok for me to go home, provided i wasn't left on my own. 

I'd had a complete breakdown. I was tearful, i shut myself off. I struggled to be around Betsy. I hated her seeing me in this way. I just needed time away. I needed to get myself sorted out. Ashley rang my best friend and told her everything, and she drove down to collect me and i spent the weekend with her. And gradually i started to feel better. 

And now i understand. I understand how it feels to be so desperately out of control of everything that suicide seems like the only way out. To have so much to live for, yet be so blind to all of it. 

When i think back to how i was that day, it doesn't seem real. Huge parts of the day are blurred. I feel ashamed to know that i was prepared to leave my daughter without a mother. I feel sad to think of all that i would have missed out on. But most of all i feel absolutely determined to never ever allow myself to get to such an unbelievable point ever again. Nothing is ever that bad. 

A little update

It feels amazing to finally be blogging again, i have missed it so much! If there is one thing i have learnt these past few weeks, it's to never ever take wifi for granted! 

Anyway. As most of you may know (if not, you can read about it HERE), me and Betsy's Dad have separated. My last few posts have been somewhat negative about this. I have struggled with so many things in so many ways. 

Its something that i am still getting to grips with. For the most part me and her Dad get along wonderfully, we have had a 'family day' since it happened and it was great. It is so important to us both that we get along for the sake of Betsy. She is and will forever be the most important thing in all of this.

Going it alone hasn't been quite as tough as i imagined it would be. I have surprised myself with how well i have generally coped. My depression and anxieties have been manageable. Admittedly there have been a few occasions when her Dad has had to step in to give me a break, and i am forever grateful to him for helping me, but i generally feel like i get on alright. That's not to say that it isn't unbearably hard sometimes. The days are so long and the evenings drag with no one to tag team it with. There is no more taking it in turns to get up with her, when she's with me i have to get up regardless of what the time is or how early she had me up yesterday. If i don't feel great, it's tough. The pressure is solely on me when Betsy is in full on meltdown mode. And as much as she drives me utterly insane, i wouldn't have it any other way now. I love our time together. I feel that in knowing there is no choice but to continue with things on the bad days, i manage better. And knowing i have the time to recharge when she goes to stay with her Dad is always in the back of my mind too. 

We are totally settled into our new home. I love that it is somewhere completely new for us both. Betsy settled in straight away and excitedly chants our door number as we walk up to the front door. She seems totally at ease with having two homes and there is never any fuss on 'handover'. Generally as soon as she see's the other parent she is saying bye straight away to the one who has her.

Myself and people around me have noticed a change. I am a more positive person. I spent such a long time in a situation i wasn't happy in, pretending and trying, thinking i was doing the right thing. It has taken a while but i have learnt that you cannot force feelings that do not exist, no matter how much you try. I will always feel sad for the break up of my family. I will always feel responsible. I will always feel guilty, and i hope Betsy can understand when she gets older. But i am finally at a point where i can understand and accept my feelings and begin to move on. 

Picture credits

Me

I am writing this after a particularly shit night with Betsy. Awful bed time, numerous wake ups throughout the night and then a 4.23am start. I literally cannot remember a time in my life where I have been so tired, so exhausted. I am counting down the hours untill her daddy picks her up. I feel like I have absolutely nothing to give. I don't want to be a parent today. I don't want to have to entertain a toddler. I don't want to do it. 

I don't know quite why I feel like this. Obviously the lack of sleep plays a major part. But I've had bad nights with Betsy before. And I've still not felt like this. My depression has been relatively at bay lately, apart from a bad day last week. I look at my gorgeous daughter and wonder how I could possibly not want to be around her. 

Of course not every day is like this. I love being around her. I love having her. Of course I do. She's my daughter. 

I don't know what is wrong with me. I feel like she deserves far more than a mummy who counts down the days till she gets a break. 

There is only so much I can blame on depression, anxiety, the stresses of being a single parent to a particularly challenging toddler. More and more I wonder if the problem is simply me. I'm not cut out for it. I know other mums say it's hard, but I don't know if they find it as hard as I do some days. I'm not good at being a parent. It doesn't come naturally to me. I don't deserve to be her mummy when I feel like this.

I know tomorrow is a new day. And I'm sure il wake up feeling completely differently. But for now I'm stuck on today, a day which feels like it's never going to end, one which I just want to get back into bed and shut myself away from. 

Guilt

I've not done a blog post for a little while. I've had lots I want to write about, but no time in which to do it really. What with moving out and adjusting to life as a single mum. So this is just a quick one, as I feel like my head may explode if I don't get out what is going on inside it. 

This overwhelming feeling of guilt just won't budge. It won't go away. Every time Betsy asks for her Daddy. Every time I get stressed out with her when she is going nuts. Every time I have to hand her over to her Daddy, and every time he hands her back. Every time she cuddles me, and every time she pushes me away. It never leaves me. 

I don't feel like it ever will.

I feel guilty when I think of his family too, who have done so so much for me. Things they didn't have to do. I miss my relationship with them, so much. 

I am so grateful that me and Ashley continue to get along. I can turn to him when I'm having an awful day with her, and know he won't judge me. I absolutely couldn't wish for a better man to bring up my daughter with, something I have of course always known, but something that stands out massively now. 

Us separating was for the best, there is no doubt about that. We both know it. I wasn't happy and quite frankly treated Ashley appallingly. I will be the very first person to admit that. 

We are both ok with what has happened. 

But I don't know that Betsy is. And this is what I struggle with. All I can do is explain my reasons when she is old enough to ask, and hope she accepts them. 

What has happened

I have tried over and over and over again to write this post these last couple of weeks. I haven't felt able to, and i still don't, but i need to. I need to get out everything in my head.

Me and Ashley have separated. 

I am in the process of moving out of our home.

It is something that needed to happen. We both know this. And i think we can both live with that. Sometimes things just don't go to plan, things don't end up the way you thought and desperately wanted them to go. 

But something i am struggling with is the guilt.

Our family is broken. We are no longer a unit. Betsy will never remember, never know what it was like to have her parents together. Her life from here on out is going to spent split between me and her Daddy. A few days here, a few days there. 2 bedrooms. 2 homes. Both separate from each other. 

Will she grow up to hate me, will she resent me for what has happened? Will she ever be able to forgive me?

Because it is my fault entirely. 

I have tried and tried so hard, but i have just fallen out of love with Ashley. It devastates me to have to type that. I have struggled with these feelings for a while. I have tried so desperately to push them to one side and carry on. Thinking it was just a phase, maybe its my depression, maybe I'm just having a bad day. But it hasn't been any of those things. I don't want to feel like this. I would do anything to change the way i feel. 

Ashley is my absolute rock, i cannot imagine how i am ever going to cope without him. He knows everything about me. He knows my little ways. He knows how to deal with me when i am in the midst of a horrible depressive phase, or when anxiety is trying to take over my life. He knows what to say. 

Even this last week, since we have separated, he has been amazing. Helping me to find somewhere to live, to work out how i am going to manage. Everything. He has been there. He is still there. And i have no idea why. It isn't something i deserve. 

We agree that the only thing that matters in all of this mess is Betsy. We are still getting along, and will continue to, because of her. We don't hate each other, i could never hate the Father of my daughter, never. We will do whatever it takes to ensure this affects her as little as possible.

Entering the unknown!

I have been referring to Betsy as being a toddler for a couple of months, but if I'm honest i am only just accepting that she is one. The realisation is slowly creeping upon me, especially as her fascination with 'Bebe's' (babies, don't you know) grows. Everywhere we see one and she chants the word like a toddler possessed, i am reminded. I'm relatively ok with this. Whilst i liked the newborn days, i have loathed the baby ones. Where most people say it gets harder when they can walk, talk, etc.. I think the opposite. Of course the tantrums and demands and constant no's get a bit irritating after a while, but overall she is able to keep herself occupied for a reasonable amount of time, meaning I'm able to stuff myself with chocolate in peace. 

So, yes, being in charge of a toddler is alright. 

However, with the acceptance of her being a toddler comes the entering into the unknown. The no mans land. The 'shit got real' stage. 

The stage where i actually have to think about what i am doing. What i am saying. How i react to things. 

I actually have to be a responsible person, a role model, an actual parent to Betsy. No longer just a mummy.

If i see a spider? I have to man up and deal with it. Gone are the days where i can run and frantically ring my mother in law to save me. I don't want Betsy to grow up with my intense fear of the ghastly things. Partly because it just isn't nice to be so scared of something that one is highly likely to come across on a fairly regular basis. But mostly because i hope to raise Betsy into a fine spider catcher. And in order for me to do that i need to refrain myself from mentally scarring her with my dramatic and if I'm honest unnecessary reactions to them. 

Mine and Ashley's relationship is based upon bickering. It is what we do all day every day. Mostly just messing around, although occasionally one of us will touch a nerve. Our bickering can to some seem quite childish at times, and there may or may not sometimes be some kind of physical violence involved (i should stress at this point that we do not beat each other. I'm talking horse bites and chinese burns). We like to take the piss out of each other and wind each other up. However, we are now having to think very carefully about how we behave in front of Betsy. She doesn't know we don't mean it, and to her tiny toddler mind i imagine it can all seem somewhat aggressive. And i definitely don't want to be bringing up a thug. 

Gone are the days i can sit and eat chocolate and crisps all day. Whatever i eat, Betsy has to have. And she knows i eat rubbish. She knows that whatever i eat is something that she shouldn't be eating, which makes her want it even more. I can't even make a cup of tea without her clawing her way up my leg because she has learnt that with tea comes biscuits. I regularly hide myself away to gorge on all of the naughty food. But more often then not i am rumbled, and then i feel bad. I don't want Betsy to inhabit my unhealthy ways. 

When Betsy does something utterly hilarious but also a bit naughty, no longer can i laugh. For laughing only encourages her to continue doing it, and it quickly becomes something that is no longer hilarious, just naughty. And when i tell her no, she stares at me with her defiant little eyes, reminding me that i gave her the green light to do whatever it is she is doing by laughing. Or if I'm having a shit day whereby i want to let her do whatever she wants just for a quiet life, i can't. She won't understand that just because i let her pull out the entire contents of the kitchen today, doesn't mean she can do it tomorrow. It's all or nothing, this parenting lark. Shit days are no longer allowed. 

It's a tough old road. One that i am crawling along in a slow but frantic manner, keen to reach the end destination. 

Adulthood. 

The first baby

Back in september 2009 me and Ashley found out we were expecting. A pregnancy test, followed by countless others, confirmed it. We were having a baby. I was about 3 weeks when i found out, so very early. 

We were beyond excited. We told close friends and family. I told my work. There was something in the water it seemed, as i was the 4th lady to become pregnant at my work within a couple of months. I told the other 3, and we all shared our pregnancy excitement. It was nice having others to chat to about it, who knew how i was feeling. They were a few weeks ahead of me.

Around about 6/7 weeks, i started to feel different. The only way i can describe it is that i stopped 'feeling' pregnant. I hadn't had any major pregnancy symptoms really, but i had experienced nausea in the evenings, and my boobs were quite sore. This all disappeared. 

I began to work myself up. I began to google. I stumbled across a statistic that told me 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage. I thought of the three other girls, all of which had had their 12 week scans and knew all was well. Was i going to be that 1 in 4?

I grew more and more anxious as the weeks went by.

 Everyone around me reassured me that i was being silly, that i shouldn't get myself so worked up. The weeks dragged by but the closer it got to my 12 week scan, the more i started to think they were right. Maybe it was all in my head, and maybe my baby was growing perfectly well. I always think the worst, and this was a perfect example. 

A week before my 12 week scan i went to stay with a friend. She was having a night in and there were a few of us there. She had bought the baby a little present. A little plaque that said "Twinkle twinkle little star". I could have burst with happiness and excitement when i opened it. We all chatted excitedly about the baby, was it a boy or girl, who would it look like, what would we call it. For the first time in what seemed like forever, all of my anxieties about my pregnancy went away, and i allowed myself to believe it was all going to be ok  I was elated, over the moon. I imagined my little bean kicking away inside of me. It was perfect. 

The next day was Sunday 9th December. 

I usually worked an early shift on a Sunday, but i had swapped with a colleague so that i could go up to see my friend the night before and not have to come in early the next day. So my shift began at 2pm. Off i went to work. Ashley had a night in with his sister and his dad. Everything was as it should be. 

At around 6pm, i went to the toilet. And saw blood. A lot of blood. So much. 

I froze. I didn't know what to do. I just stared at it in absolute disbelief. This wasn't happening. 

I ran out and rang Ashley. I could barely speak through the tears. Couldn't bring myself to tell him what was happening. When i did, he told me he was coming to pick me up. I stumbled across the car park to the other side of my workplace, to tell the shift leader what had happened. I went to get my bag and coat, and Ashley arrived. This had probably taken no more then about 5 minutes to happen, but it felt like hours. 

I got back home and went straight into the bathroom. I could hear my sister in law asking if i were ok, and Ashley's muffled voice explaining what was happening. I knew he was trying to stay hopeful, trying to believe that maybe it wasn't what i knew it was. 

He rang NHS direct, who said there wasn't much that could be done. They said there wasn't much point going to the hospital. I didn't listen, i said i wanted to go. 

The journey was a blur. I rang my friend, one of the three girls from work who was pregnant, to tell her what had happened. Of course she said all the right things. She reassured me, she told me it might be nothing. I hoped she was right, but i knew she wasn't. 

We got the hospital and sat in the a&e waiting room. I felt so numb. I was back and forth to the toilet. I couldn't believe what was happening. Eventually we were seen. The nurse gently explained that they would need to have a look and see if my cervix was open. 

I was a mess. A hysterical mess. Ashley desperately tried to calm me down. I lay back and let her do what needed to be done. I was incredibly tense and just couldn't relax myself, so it hurt. She said my cervix was closed. Next she asked to do a blood test. Then she sent us home. We had an appointment with the Early Pregnancy Unit for a scan 9.30 am the next morning. Monday 10th December. My sister's birthday.

After the longest night of our lives, we arrived back at the hospital. We made our way into the EPU. We made ourselves known to reception, and we sat and waited. I looked around at all of the other people, wondering whether anyone else was in the same situation as we were in. I felt sick. We were called in. 

I was scanned. First an ultrasound. They couldn't see anything and explained they would need to do an internal scan. Like the night before, i was worked up and tense, and i tried to calm myself and take deep breaths. The room went quiet.

And then we were told what i already knew. We had lost our baby. My body had failed.

They told us the baby was only measuring about 6-8 weeks, not the nearly 12 weeks it should be. I had had a missed miscarriage. My body had deceived me, it had carried on pretending it was growing our baby. For the last few weeks it had led me to believe i was carrying a living developing baby, when really i was carrying a dead one. My baby had died inside of me. 

I will never be able to put into words how it felt. The emptiness, the sheer overwhelming devastation, the frustration and unfairness of it all. I felt like the crying would never stop. Nothing would ever go back to how it was. I would never recover from this. So absorbed in my own grief that i ashamedly overlooked Ashley in all of this. He hugged me and we cried, we cried so much, but at the time i wasn't able to give him any comfort. I was drowning. I buried and lost in a sea of despair and heart break. 

We were spoken to by a midwife who went through the motions of telling us how sorry she was for our loss. She was lovely. She told us what our options were, and we decided we would go home and wait for nature to take its course. And off we went. 

Of course it wasn't as simple as that. I ended up going into A&E on the Thursday in excruciating pain and being kept in until Saturday, to have an ERPC. Evacuation of Retained Products of Conception. That's what my pregnancy, my baby, was classed as. A retained product of conception. 

I hated my body. I hated what it had done to me, to us. To our baby. I felt so alone. I felt like a failure. Nothing was fair. What had i done to deserve this?


It will forever remain the most indescribably traumatic and devastating thing i have ever gone through. We have ever gone through. 

Though it was only for 6-8 weeks, my baby was alive. Though it was a tiny blob of cells, inconspicuous and invisible to all except a few, my baby existed. We might not have ever been destined to meet, but i was a mum to be for those few weeks. 

Realisation

Something has happened recently that has made me question myself. I am not ready to share what exactly, so I'm very sorry that this is like one of those annoying cryptic Facebook statuses. To be honest, exactly what it is that happened is irrelevant. 

It's more about what it has made me realise. 

Sometimes life is a bit shit. No matter how hard you try, how much effort you put in, how desperately you wish things could be different, it continues to beat you down.

 Things don't go the way you wanted them to. 

They don't happen when you wanted them to happen.

Sometimes, things change. It isn't necessarily what you want, but it is the way things have to go. 

People have to be let down, angry, disappointed. 

I hate the saying "Everything happens for a reason". But actually, i think sometimes it does. 

Sometimes from something bad can come something utterly amazing. What looks like a bad decision to people on the outside, is the absolute best one for the people inside. 

Sometimes we reach a position where we have to stop, and look, and listen to what is happening. 

We have to regroup, dismiss everyone and everything, and focus on ourselves. 

I have realised that sometimes you just need to do what's best. You need to not worry about what other people will think, or what they might say. What presumptions they may make. You need to do what is right. 

  Above everything, what is right for me and my family will always be the most important thing to me.

A letter to a mum like me

Hello you.

You're a mummy. Can you believe it? 

And it's nothing like you imagined it would be, is it? I know. I so understand. Hide yourself away for a minute and read this. 

I know you find it hard. 

I know sometimes you get annoyed, sometimes you are short tempered, sometimes you are impatient. You feel guilty for being too busy to play, for letting your child watch too much tv just so you can get a moments peace. You have days where you literally do not believe you will make it to bedtime. You get worked up when your child cries at you because you just don't know what to do, what your child wants. You stand there wishing you were anywhere but here, here in front of this screaming, whining child. You get so upset when your child won't sleep at night, waking every hour, every two hours. Not caring how you feel, how tired you are, whether or not you have to get up for work. You feel so angry at your child in the mornings, which then leads to guilt because you know it isn't your child's fault. You sit in floods of tears, unable to stop them. Tears of frustration and exhaustion and guilt. I know this. 

I know that when you muster up the courage to venture out into the big wide world on your own with your tiny tot, you soon wish you hadn't. You go to baby groups, full of so many other mummies. You wonder how they do it. How do they manage to look so wonderful? How are they so confident? How are they so happy and upbeat? How have they taken to motherhood so well? How do they not find it such a struggle? What is wrong with you? 

You go to soft play, or cafes, or parks, or just a walk round the block. You pray that your child doesn't kick off over something. If this happens, you feel like no matter what you do, you have handled it wrong. Like anyone that is watching you thinks you are a bad mother. Thinking you can't control your own child. They tut under their breath, or look at you with judgmental eyes. They are all judging you, you think to yourself. You and your shit ability to parent your own child.

I know you feel like a frumpy mum. Everywhere you go you see mums who have it together, they have nice hair and nice make up and nice nails. Baby weight gone. Smiles all over their faces. You compare yourself to them. You look at your scraped back hair, your make up free, dull, grey face. Your bags under your eyes. Your flabby belly. Your flat, empty boobs. Your plain clothes. You feel like an embarrassment. You feel hideous. You feel like a disappointment to your partner. You wonder what they see in you. 

I know you feel forgotten about. You see status updates from people your age, people who used to be your friends. You see what they are getting up to. You stop hearing from people. People who you thought would always be there. You feel lost and left behind, in a bubble of milk and nappies, while everyone else moves on with their lives. You feel isolated, unable to accept how things are now. Wishing you could still be the person your were before, then looking at your child and feeling guilty.

You struggle to adapt to your new life. The pressure it puts on everything. The pressure it puts on your relationship. You wonder how you will both ever get through this. You feel like an awful short tempered nagging witch all of the time, yet you cant seem to do anything about it. You feel angry that they get to go off to work while you are stuck at home. They get a break. You resent them. And you feel ridiculous for being like this. 

You sit there wondering why you are feeling like this. Why did no one tell you it would be like this? Maybe its just you. 

Well, guess what? It isn't 'just you'. Those mums you see who look like they have it all together will have absolutely felt like this too at some point. Being a mum is so incredibly tough. It is such a massive thing to happen to us. How can we adapt to it just like that over night? Finding things hard at times (or even all the time) does not make you a failure. It doesn't mean you are doing it all wrong. 

And all of this? It will get easier. I promise. Don't give yourself a hard time. Don't tell yourself you are a bad person. Don't compare yourself to other people. You are the absolute best you can be. 

Don't dwell on the bad days. There are good ones too, even though they may seem few and far between. And one day, you will realise that you haven't had a bad day for ages. Your child will give you the biggest grin, a kiss or a cuddle. And suddenly, it will blow you away. 

You are an amazing mother. The best. There isn't anyone else in the whole wide world who could be a better mother to your child. 

Don't forget that.

x

Dermocare plasters - Review

I am always needing a plaster. Whether its for a cut or a blister, they are very handy to have. I usually have at least 50 loitering about the bottom of my handbag, for emergencies. And i don't know about you, but when summer approaches, i feel an urge to stock up. Blisters for me are rife in summer. Sandals and flip flops always give me incredible ones. It is annoying, yet inevitable! 

So when i was offered some DermoCare plasters to review, i was very happy! These beauties aren't just any old plasters, oh no. They are ocean life and safari  plasters. Thats right friends, long gone are the days of the boring old same as everyone else browny beige things. Now i could cover up an unsightly blister with a shark! Or a panda! Perhaps an orang-utan?! The possibilities were endless! 

For the first time in my life i found myself actually wanting to have a minor plaster required accident. 

When you buy these, not only are you getting the most amazingly patterned plasters, you will also be supporting WWF UK (find their website here!), which is nice to know! 

 I have a major plaster allergy, my skin swells and becomes all red and itchy if i use a normal one, and i had no reaction to these whatsoever!

The plasters are hypoallergenic and latex free, and can be used for all ages from birth. They are super easy to remove, unlike normal plasters they don't weld themselves onto your skin! The ocean-life ones are waterproof, and especially fabulous! I managed to do the washing up whilst wearing one and can confirm that it was still entirely in place afterwards!

There are 18 in a pack and they come in three different sizes:

6 4x7 cm

6 2x7 cm

6 2x4 cm

Betsy was absolutely obsessed with them. She ended up with a lion one one her arm, much to her amusement. She spent the whole time roaring!

So, when stocking up your first aid box, why not pop some of these beauties in? 

For more information have a look at the DermoCare website: http://www.dermocare.co.uk

You can also find DermoCare on Twitter: https://twitter.com/DermocareUK

And Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DermoCareUK?fref=ts