Well, it’s been a hot minute – or 11 months – since I last posted on this slice of the internet that I call mine, and man, have things changed since then. I’ve been meaning to write but haven’t made the time, didn’t have the brain capacity, and in all honesty, had no clue where to start because a lot has happened, hasn’t it.
Things stopped on this blog last August and since then I started a new, dream job, found out I was pregnant after a tiring year and a half of trying, had said baby, and then went straight into Covid-19 lockdown.
It was a lot.
I found pregnancy hard. I spent the first trimester either feeling sick or being sick and survived on beige food. The second trimester I felt more myself and enjoyed my growing belly and the kicks and nudges that my little babe would give me. The third trimester lasted what felt like forever and I felt like a waddling whale. My IBS however, bar one episode, vanished. Maybe I’ll write more about that if you’re interested?
The birth. Well, I might have to save that for a whole other post because it was intense and traumatic. I’ve only recently unpicked what happened and why with a midwife, as part of the birth reflections service the NHS offer, which was a huge help. The short story, I’d been having contractions and no sleep for about 3 days but they weren’t close enough together. I was induced and quickly started having intense contractions, wound up in the labour ward, got to a certain point with gas and air before it got too much and I welcomed an epidural, all before having an emergency cesarean. Phew. I had to stay in for a few days and left the hospital just as the country went into lockdown.
It. Was. Weird.
They say things come in threes and I’m very well aware that Al and I seem to fall on the slightly dramatic side of life. Case in point, our three big life events…
Wedding = Hurricane.
Honeymoon = Cyclone. *Edit it was a Cyclone not a tornado*
Baby birth = Covid-19 pandemic.
It’s safe to say navigating these past 16 weeks has been a physical and emotional whirlwind which has both flown by and gone extremely slowly. There are good days, where Dylan will smile at me and melt my heart, I’ll get a decent chunk of sleep and manage a walk round the block and another load of washing. And then there are days when it all feels relentless, that I’m doing it wrong and I end up questioning whether I’m doing things right, comparing myself to the glossy new mums on Instagram and obsessing over a body that still doesn’t look like mine.
Having a baby at this time has been challenging. The support from midwives, family and friends has been great but not being able to hug them tightly has been hard and I struggled with my mental health in those first sleep-deprived days.
It’s been a wild ride, let me tell you and one I plan on documenting. So, while the blog posts may be few and far between, I can’t wait to start writing again.