I read somewhere...

this quote:

"I hope for nothing. I fear nothing. I am free."

Ever since reading it, I feel free, peaceful... Even more content.

I *hope* (oops) I can raise Addi with the same view on things.

Time

"Milky Chin" gets her everytime.

9 weeks ago I was on this very couch, typing away, trying to forget the pain.

Each contraction was like this: When you're not in pain, you can't remember it. But then as soon as you think that... well.. you do more than remember it. You don't get enough time to reminisce on the pain (not that that sounds very appealing anyway!) because it comes back around so fast.

I typed when they hit, because it kept my hands busy; I didn't know what to do with them. It didn't mean they weren't painful! But I had some amazing friends online who kept me busy and I am SO thankful and so so so grateful for every minute they spent talking to me to get me through. I would have gone insane if it weren't for you wonderful ladies; you know who you are :)

I wrote my birth story in the form of a poem. Partly because I didn't want to relive the entire saga word by word, or sugar coat anything, or make out that I was a hero and he was anything but. I basically just want to forget the bad bits and remember the 'good bits'. I'm allowed to do that!

This time 9 weeks ago (11pm) I was working up the courage to call my midwife and tell her I'm coming in to hospital. I had spent all day dithering about, wondering whether to call her now or in 10 minutes "when they got worse" etc. Looking back I really wish I just called her and abused her but never mind! 12am and I went into hospital. 10 minutes before that my entire world stopped before my eyes and I died a bit more inside... But I won't go into that... Different story!

I am so, so unbelievably grateful to have this girl of mine. We have so much ahead of us and I can't wait to see who she becomes. I've bought a book on graceful parenting so let's put that to use huh!

Here is my wee claim to fame (ish) :

http://www.birthstories.co.nz/2010/11/birth-poem.html

Air

Wondering whether it's safe to fall back asleep yet...

Ah yes, it's safe now :)

Mummy took me for a walk today.

She walked and walked and walked until her legs hurt but she keeps telling me how nice it was to finally be out in the fresh summer air with me.

I didn't really like the fact my 'pram' (I don't know what a pram is but apparently its the name of one of the things I sleep in) had little suspension and I felt every wee stone. It woke me up lots but I found comfort in seeing mum just infront of me, so I fell back asleep.

Mum loves ducks, she could watch them all day if I wasn't so easy to watch instead... She is particularly fascinated with their bottoms and how they sway back and forth when walking. She thinks my bottom is just as cute, so that's okay, I won't get jealous.

We went to Nannan and Uncle Sams for tea and I had a big sleep in Nannans bed which was nice of me because mum got to spend lots of time with them while I didn't need her. I woke up just before she sat down to eat, but I just sat in my capsule and mum rocked me while she ate.

I've been up and down all evening and Mums going to feed me again soon before she goes to sleep. It's been a very long day.

To Addi

Pain

Looking back into my labour and birth memories, none are positive apart from when I met my girl.

And I *hate* that. I do. It could have been so much better, I could have been so much stronger if I had the right support, if I wasn't crying with emotional pain and losing all my energy over someone else other than myself or my baby.

Not sure if it's possible to have regrets over someone else's actions, but if it is possible, I'm feeling it right now. I wish I could go back and be stronger, stand up for myself and shout at *him* a bit louder after everything he made me feel- but who can shout after 30+ hours of labour?

Even when I was pushing Addi out, I held my breath. I looked the other way. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't look anywhere. I kept crying and it wasn't from pain, it was from him. It was the sheer sadness I was feeling, the final 'it's over' after so many months of promises, pains and i'm-sorry's. It was that I couldn't bear to feel his hand on me, or to hear his voice; but it was there all the time. I couldn't escape, I couldn't run away (or get off the bed) from him for the first time in so long. I was stuck, crying, telling myself I couldn't do it...

I can't even believe I'm writing this. I don't want people to read this! But, I am so angry about my labour/birth experience and I will never forgive him for breaking my heart and making me cry. I relive it every night and it will haunt me for ever. The dead feeling inside me, and how I should have been feeling more alive than ever- hell, I *HAD* someone alive in there.

When I stub my toes (more like crack them) on Addi's changing table, I now blow raspberrys on my arm instead of screaming. When Addi pinches me when she's feeding, I don't yell, I just say ouch and remove her tiny claws. When I drop something, I don't swear, I pick it up again.

Something has changed in my head, something has made me numb. I don't know what's going on, or what switch has been flicked, but it's all so new and strange.

All I know is that I'm more prepared for next time (A LONG TIME AWAY, DAD, DON'T WORRY!) and I know how I want things to be, and who I want to be there.

I know myself better, and what I can/can't handle. Even before I go into labour, even before I'm pregnant; NOW, I know what I don't want. I'm bloody positive. And after years of broken promises and i'm-sorry's, I am ALLOWED to say no. Or yes. Or F OFF.

So I'd like for people to stop telling me what to do, and say, and feel. Also F OFF to those of you who are trying to make me feel guilty for certain things. I've had enough. I'm grateful for everything and it's NOT MY FAULT you're not happy.

End of.

Still

There is a time of day where, if you look out the window (for a solid 5 minutes), it could really be the same time 12 hours prior.

I just leaned out my bedroom window for a good while, staring into the distant sunset, thinking that it could be 8am, not 8pm.

So fresh, quiet, still... The only difference is that you're saying goodnight to the birdies, not goodmorning. And also that its sunset not sunrise.

Oh and also that there is no chance in hell that little miss 2-months-today (!!!!!!!!) would be asleep or awake both at 8pm and 8am.

I cannot believe that this time 2 months ago, I had just met Addi.

I had waited for her first breath, heard her yelp from metres away, held her properly for the first time and held her hand.

I had dressed that fragile, new, tiny body; so carefully, like handling the skeleton of a leaf.

I was settling in for the first night with her outside of me.

There were bright lights, and dark skies, and all the wrong types of noises going on around me.

I couldn't get off my bed or walk, I couldn't change my own baby properly unless it was between my legs on the bed.

I awoke many times (from barely sleeping anyway) to her screaming and mewing for me as she choked on her mucus that was leaving her lungs, but I couldn't get to her without just about dying trying to reach.

Coming home with her was somewhat bittersweet. I had spent majority of the last 41 weeks, alone (with her inside, though), but all of a sudden I felt even more alone. It was so odd.

I'd spent 65 hours around people I didn't know; women who had their hands on me and my tummy- then my baby, a guy who felt it was ok to make eye contact and awkward faces while examining my cervix, and a man who told me quite rudely to keep still whilst he jammed needles into my spine... Then I came home, and it was so quiet, cold and dark... It was just me and Addi at night when her dad went home.

It was just us. And I liked it, because I was used to it, but I wasn't used to this new-and-not-improved version of myself. I was sore, heavy, floppy... And it was all so new (ish).

But it's all so easy/comfortable now. I feel at home, whenever/wherever she's with me. This body is still new, and different, and Addi is VERY new compared to me ;). But I feel like I've known her, and this side of me, for ever.

We have grown together and we will continue to, in more ways than birthdays and milestones; we will grow together in our own way.

Adrenalin

So, I hope one day when Addi reads through this blog, she forgives me for feeling this way. More so, I hope I forgive myself for feeling this way.

I've got my headphones in, drowning out the outside world... I don't know if she's crying. I'm pretty sure she's not. She's fine anyway- fed, warm, clean, no wind (not since 30 mins ago anyway).

When will I have me time?... Is this it; me and the laptop?

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the whole parenting gig, I love Addi more than life. I would do anything for her, 'sacrifice' anything, take a bullet ra ra ra.

But when will I ever be able to trust someone enough to look after her alone...?

Trust is so easily broken. I'm one of those people who gives everything, their all. I do. I do my best, I give everything I've got. I love with all I'm made of and I can hate just as much. So when I trust someone, and they break it, that's that.

Or maybe I just plain hate the person and don't think they deserve any time alone with my baby. She is a part of me, and I find it hard enough leaving her for 30 minutes... But when will that change? Will it ever change?...

I need some time to myself, I need to go back to the gym, I need to let loose. I need loud music, let's face it, I need some uninterrupted shopping. I need more milk,bread and meat; more than what will/won't fit in the bottom of her pram.

I need some laughter, I need some tears (no I don't), and some smiles. From an adult.

I love her SO much, I love myself so much more too but heck- I'm sure she needs time away from me too.

Who the hell can I really trust enough, to have her while I go do something selfish?... It's not worth risking my sanity over. I really do not trust anyone in my life to look after her. I won't enjoy the music, or the rowing machine, or the dance floor, or the mall for that matter.

My family- if you're reading this- it's *NOT* you who I hate; I promise you that.

What to do, what to do...

P.S anyone who suggests taking her jogging in the pram-
A) I don't jog
B) I can't jog
and
C) no.