Happy Birthday Baby Boy!

Nope, not that one.
The first one !
:)
Thankfully.

Had a bit of a hairy moment last night when I was very sure that baby 2 was on his way. Wishful thinking I suppose. Stil, everything feels, well, different, so you never know. I definitely feel as though progress is being made.

Part of me would love a natural-ish birth (would not say no to gas and air or an epidural if it got so bad, I'm not a nutter!) but in my heart of hearts I know I am destined to never have one. Apart from the fact that I know that my body is just too small for the big babies I seem to grow, I couldn't give it a trial run just to satisfy my curiosity. In my book that's just a bit irresponsible. A few week's discomfort for my baby's safety?
No question.

And we can bleat on and on about cesearean 'not being an easy option you know'....I know. Of COURSE I know. Bt the fact of the matter is that I ama healthy young lady who is likely to come out of it far better than my poor big headed sons who could get trapped in me!!

But anyway, I digress....

Today is my son's second birthday and I just wanted to iterate how proud I am.
Proud of the journey we have taken as a family in the last two years. Proud of my son's many milestones and achievements.
As I type this he is tucked up in his big boy bed having his morning nap after a morning of being entertained by balloons and his own imagination.
I cannot imagine the next year, the year after, the subsequent birthdays to follow. Six, seven, eight, nine....how is it possible that I could be the mother of a ten year old one day?
I feel lucky.
Lucky and emotional; sad that this is two already. So happy that we have made it this far, excited about hitting three next year.
I am hopeful that our futures are bright and that we have a lot of goodness coming our way.

Today for me is a time of reflection.
To reflect on the post-natal depression I struggled silently with for over a year, that I have just come to realise and get over int he last 6 months.
To reflect on those who have flitted out of our lives. Those who can no longer be with us anymore.
The people who have shown every kindness and those who have turned a shoulder in times of need. To see how strong I have become through the journey I have travelled mostly alone and the support I have had from those I love most.
To see the extremes we have faced and conquered.
The really great times - the holidays and memories made.
So much love.

So off I go on my day of celebration.
Today I celebrate my son, his achievements and how he has created in us a family.
How precious that is.

Fears and Freak Outs

Yesterday I had a long conversation with my best mate about how she freaked out about her life. About how she had hit 24 and realised that her life was passing her by.
Is this how I have been feeling since I was 24?
Is that the reason I have been so depressed?
So down on life?
So unable to see the positives?

Actually, I don't believe that for a minute (I do actually think that instead it was some sever PND which went untreated for around 16 months, but that's a whole other story).

Have I missed out on the best bits of my life by having my children so young in a society that infers that women can 'have it all'?
How many times has my confidence been knocked in the past 2 years simply be feeling so young and inexperienced? Like I have no right to be a mother? That somehow my experiences and doings are any less legitimate than those of the fellow 'motherhood'? Should I have waited and had a career first? Satisfied my individual goals instead?

I can put my PND down to a variety of factors; living somewhere which was so unsuitable then bening made to live with the FIL for 6 months, being geographically and socially isolated from friends and family, being academically smothered, being two sizes bigger than I have ever been in my life, not being able to breastfeed, traumatic birth, scary induction into motherhood which left me reeling from the shock of the reality of it all, feeling inadequate, being financially challenged, being, being, being......excuses excuses!!!

Now that I have crawled out of the pit, I am absolutely terrified of going back in again. I re-read things I have written in the last 2 years and wonder who this woman is? How did it all get on top of her? It's not as bad as some other folk's problems - how did you get so 'woe is me' about it all lady??

4 weeks today baby 2 will be born (whether he like is or not!). So today I have to make a decision.
Get control, or go down the hole.

I remember falling down the hole last time. It was a slow edging, like in a horror movie. Like being pushed into the sinking sands and swallowed up.
At one point I remember remarkingto my husband that I could feel myself clinging to the edge of the pit by my fingertips.
It's worrying for me - I am quite a vocal person, quite able to communicate my feelings and often do. I am one of those folk you can take at face value, as I don't know any other way to be.
And last time, I communicated my feelings. BUt I still ended up alone in the bottom of the pit.

It scares me because here I am, on the verge of doing again what I did last time and unable to say whether I am going to be presented with the dark void or whether I am going to avoid it.
I do feel much better than last time already.
More able, stronger, capable, legitimate.

But I am absolutely terrified that I am going to go down the hole and nobody will help me out. Just like last time.
WHat makes me reel is that there are folk who are quite close to me who have TOLD me that I had PND. That they thought I was struggling with it. And NONE of them stepped forward to say so!
Why?
16 months I fought a battle with myself with no reserve troops.
How?
People around me my mum, my husband, my sister) who found it easier not to say anything!

Rest assured, I am more vigilant. I am on my guard. I am trying my best.

Things are so much different now.
And whatever happens, I am past the stage of freak-out.
I have to be sure of that!