NEXT!

It's fair to say this blog is done, baby, done. It's been so long since I've been here I think it would be poor etiquette to come back now, especially as I'd be full of empty apologies and promises. I'm going on a year of being tired like only a Mama can be, and my distracted attention span is even more moth-at-a-lantern-festival than ever. But I still have thoughts I want to share with the Internet! So I'm starting again, with more realistic goals. I'm aiming for more posts in smaller pieces, mainly pictures in place of thousands of words. We'll see how it goes. Find me now at http://falling-kate.tumblr.com/.

For Me

The baby fell asleep feeding on my lap and I know if I move him he will wake right up, so we are both staying put. He's wearing a little vest knit for him by the BabyDaddy's Mum. The buttons are ladybugs which were originally on a bathrobe the BabyDaddy had as a little boy. The BabyDaddy brought round a bunch of clothes he'd been given and then took back a babygrow which says "I love my Daddy" on the front, because he thought I would never let the baby wear it. I can understand how he would think that, because he doesn't know me. The last thing I want is for the baby not to love his Dad. As mad as I can get, that would be all kinds of wrong and certainly no victory for me. Plus, it's already too late. The baby really looks at people, properly studies them when they get all up in his face, and when he's sure, then he smiles back. The only exception to this is his Dad. When he sees his Dad he breaks into smiles right away, without hesitation.

The baby stayed with me all last weekend. I felt bad until Thursday night, when I offered to bring the baby to his Dad for the day on Sunday. Before I extended the offer I wrestled with it, would it make me feel like a pushover, would it make me feel worse? But I already felt terrible. So I made the offer and instantly felt better. The BabyDaddy didn't take me up on it, but I absolved myself of any guilt once I'd made the offer.

I'm listening to the album I listened to the whole night when I was awake and alone and in labour. This music is soothing, and makes me feel focused. I bought a new ipod to replace the one I put through the wash, and my imac is too old to update the new ipod with the new itunes software and I don't know how to remedy this situation because I have no tech-savvy. I like this music a lot and I would like it on my new ipod. I do not know how to make this, among other things, happen.

So, the BabyDaddy and I argued tonight. I fucking bore myself with this update. We hadn't argued for 9 days. We'd seen each other most of those days, been civil, enjoyed the baby together. However, we'd not talked about anything. All the outstanding issues and gripes remained, shoved away in a corner while we breathed a sigh of relief and took a superficial break from upsetting each other and ending each visit with slammed doors. It was nice while it lasted, but not real and thus as unsustainable as the fighting.

Then, two days ago, at the park, we talked a little while the baby slept. Talking meant friction. The friction led to an outright departure of civility. I do not know what to do. He tells me I wanted this baby and now I'm moaning about how hard having a baby is. Yes, I have always wanted this baby. Yes, it is hard, but if it wasn't for him I would not be doing this alone, here, without any close familial support, and if it wasn't for him I certainly wouldn't have anyone making it this much harder, so yeah, he gets the brunt of my moaning. I have never bitten my tongue harder to stop myself from telling someone to go fuck themselves. I don't moan to anyone else about having a baby because 1) I love it and 2) I'm too busy ranting about what an dick the BabyDaddy is.

I went to the psychic circle last week, because I keep getting a feeling like someone is trying to send me a message. Every time I get the feeling I check my phone and e-mail, but I already know it isn't that kind of message. I didn't get the message at the circle, but it was nice to be there anyway. One of the people there told me to do what makes me happy. That's part of the problem here: Big picture, I don't know what would make me happy. I don't really want to leave Bristol but the BabyDaddy makes me want to get far away from here to get away from him. Canada is not realistically feasible right now. I don't know where I want to be. I want to be where I can raise the baby the best. Geographically maybe that is where I already am, but emotionally it isn't.

We are encouraged to be kind. My weekly horoscope began like this last week. If I lived in a movie, (and that movie was specifically Good Will Hunting) this is where I would be Matt Damon and Robin Williams would hold me and instead of saying "It's not your fault" over and over, he would tell me this again and again, We are encouraged to be kind. We are encouraged to be kind. We are encouraged to be kind.

In the park, in the arguing, we discussed Christmas and the BabyDaddy said he thinks 4 weeks is too long for us to be away. He suggested we go to Canada twice a year for a fortnight. Well, I can only afford to go once a year, so we go for a month. I tried to get him to agree on a length of time it would be ok for us to be gone for, tried to get his feelings and opinions on us being away for four weeks. I tried to get him to specifically say how long is too long, to set a boundary, to give a helpful opinion. He said he wasn't going to tell me what to do, that I should do what I want. So last night I booked our Canada flights. We'll be gone from December 9 until January 16. It's longer than four weeks but it's what I want, I can't wait to be away, to be there. When my brain is alternating between calmly reminding myself that we are encouraged to be kind and screaming "Fuck you!" I can think of the lessening number of days until December 9th, when I will be doing what I want, what makes me happy.

Nobody Parents Perfectly

I was pushed into making a quick decision last night and I'm agonizing that I may have made the wrong choice. Or not. I don't necessarily want to change my mind, but I would like to make sure of the reasons why I made the choice I did. I'm afraid I decided based on my own feelings of isolation and greediness, instead of valid reasons pertaining to care and fairness. I know I'm hurt, but I want to make sure my choice isn't ultimately hurting my son more than anyone.

Yesterday the BabyDaddy asked if he could have the baby from Saturday until Sunday. He asked me this via text, because we barely speak anymore. It has been this way for nearly a month now. It sucks and it isn't getting better. Sometimes when you have a fight with someone, it lasts a short time and then you make up and things get back to normal and nice, or at least civil. But then sometimes things go awry and stay that way, and after a while the frostiness becomes the new normal. We haven't spoken to each other nicely or without fighting in ages. This atmosphere is uncomfortable in many ways. Neither of us is allowed to be human; if one of us is late or says the wrong thing or forgets something we've said, then the other person pounces to point out the failing immediately and triumphantly.

No-one would willing tolerate such a toxic relationship, yet because of the Little One, extricating our lives from each other is impossible. For example, I would like not to have the BabyDaddy in my house, which is completely unrealistic as we live on opposite sides of town (which he will cite as my fault for not moving closer to him), and yet it feels like self-punishment to repeatedly invite hostility into my home. Some weekday evenings he will come over to see the baby, and I will try to find a reason to leave. I see this as considerate, he doesn't need me leaning over him observing everything he does with the babe and if we are both here we ignore each other or argue. He sees this as doing me a favor; him coming over so I can go out. Sometimes it is a favor and I do want to go out but a lot of the time I'm giving him space in my house. This makes me uncomfortable, as I feel pressure to have a clean house all the time (so easy to achieve with a baby!) and I have to try not to leave anything personal lying around, from my dayplanner to my laundry to my post, and I have to not mind if he drinks my orange juice from the carton.

I am so tired of being the bigger person, especially as we speak less and less. I feel myself becoming more irate and resentful. Of being judged, hated and blamed, of backing down, of making nice, of calming down and not saying what I want to say because it's mean or spiteful, of allowing him in my house, of changing my plans to accommodate him and his family, of waiting for him to realize that us not communicating is not ok and needs to get better before the ever-closer breaking point is finally reached and irrevocably broken.

So, the (current) dilemma. He asked to have the baby overnight this weekend. He gave me a tight timeframe in which to answer this request. I (relatively quickly) said no. That was yesterday. I didn't sleep well last night and my stomach has been in knots and churning all day. I'm torn. Ideally I would be big enough to say, Ok, take him overnight. I'll get everything ready for you. I will provide all the wipes and diapers and clean clothes, I will pump all the milk and sterilize the bottles, I will give you all the equipment you need including bed and carseat, even if you won't appreciate it or thank me. I will let you parade around your family taking credit for how happy and healthy the baby is as if I have nothing whatsoever to do with his well-being, as if you still don't say you think he shouldn't have been born. The baby is more and more fun and amazing all the time, he is making great new sounds and noises and sitting up and exploring and being so so so so cute, and I do want his family to share that, I want anyone who loves him too to share that.

But instead I said no, and here is why. The BabyDaddy has had the baby overnight a few times. Each time when he has been away from me for more than a few hours, even if he has been happy while he's been gone, as soon as he sees me again he is clingy, crabby, and unsettled for at least 12 hours. He also hates the bottle and feeds near-constantly for ages after he's been away, partly for the comfort but mainly because when given a bottle he only eats enough to get by. He is with me pretty much all the time and it must be strange for him when I'm not there, even though he knows his Dad. The last two afternoons when his Dad has taken him out he has been returned with an old dirty diaper. I'll admit this is a small thing, but you can tell when a soiled diaper is fresh or not and both were stale. The baby has a sensitive bum and we are always just ahead of a rash outbreak. When on top of it he has a peachy bum. Skip one liberal cream application and he's red-raw. After the two afternoons of soggy diapers, he's been a bit sore. Overall, it's just indicative of not paying attention like I would. I know this won't detrimentally hurt the baby, but I don't like it.

I have just begun feeding the baby solids. This is an adventure! One that the BabyDaddy has not been involved in. I held off on feeding so he could participate and not blame me for missing another "first" and he declined. He doesn't agree with the approach I'm going with (baby-led weaning instead of purees). He has never seen the baby eat, as far as I know he hasn't taken a kiddie first aid course so I don't know if he knows how to deal with choking, he hasn't been interested in the feeding process or results (hence the dirty nappies?), and I don't trust him to uphold the process I have begun. Because he has been disrespectful of routines I have established before. On the two dirty nappy days I asked him not to let the baby fall asleep while they were out. This can be done easily with distraction when you notice he is getting tired. But on both days the baby returned to me asleep. On the second day I saw them outside and went to meet them, to find the BabyDaddy waving the baby around in the air trying to wake him up so I didn't realize he'd been sleeping. I'm not mean about sleep, but after his afternoon nap I try not to let him sleep again until bedtime, so he is ready to sleep at his established bedtime. As the BabyDaddy has been hard on me about implementing a routine, it galls me that he ignores my requests to maintain the one I have put in place, that, until he disregards it, has been working well. So, obviously we have some trust issues. Nothing that will hurt the baby, but things that will confuse him and set us back in areas where we have made progress. The last time the BabyDaddy had him overnight they got up at 3am and watched rugby because the baby "wouldn't go back to sleep". Once again, galling considering how many lectures I've had from him about structure, routine, and tough love, but also just a great big fuck up in terms of the baby's internal clock. Which I had to deal with in the following days, thank you very much. And really, had he been left alone in bed, he probably would have gone to sleep within a few minutes. It's not nice when they cry and it does sound louder at night, but he is used to sleeping in the middle of the night, as was I.

Here's what I can't tell: are these legitimate reasons not to let the baby go away overnight? If I am deeply honest, I fear that despite any and all the reasons, I just want to hurt and upset the BabyDaddy like he hurts and upsets me. I want to believe that my decision not to let him go is because I am a Good Mum, but overall it's just making me feel like a Bad Person.

I don't want to stop his family from seeing the baby. If they invited me to bring the baby for a day, I would do that (and have in the past, at my own expense of time and train fare). I get no credit or acknowledgment from his family, despite them saying they would be supportive and there for us when he was born (and after the DNA test results). Of course, they only hear the BabyDaddy's account of events, which is undoubtedly biased to make me look unfair and crazy. The baby himself is happy and healthy and thriving, and yet somehow it seems that must be all down the the time the BabyDaddy spends with him and has nothing to do with me. They love my child and disregard me. I would like to be someone who isn't bothered by that but I'm sooo not. I don't know how to be true to my feelings and improve their skewed opinion of me.

Perhaps it could be easily improved by me saying Fine, have whatever you want, take the baby away every weekend, ignore me, but even if that made them happy, it would make me feel so downtrodden and unheard and like shit, which also can't be good for the baby, for his primary caregiver to be made feel so worthless and low? All my midwives and now all my doctors keep telling me that what is good for the baby is what's good for me, happy Mum = happy baby. And yet, I put myself out, twist, compromise and upset myself to try to please and accommodate the BabyDaddy so that maybe one day he will see a glimmer of good in me and not hate me so much that he needs to make me constantly miserable. Because is what's good for me good for the baby? Would it be better for him to be with his extended family but without me all weekend? Or alone with a happy me? Am I protecting him because he's too young to be away from me, he hates bottles, his Dad hasn't invested in learning how to feed him, and he's always out of sorts when he gets back? Or am I being selfish because when he's away and that family is all together I feel even lonelier and more isolated and heartbroken for my far-away family? I DON'T KNOW AND IT'S TEARING ME UP.

The worst thing here is, that no matter what I am going to feel like shit. If I called the BabyDaddy and said he could take the baby I would be miserable and feel like a pushover all weekend. If I keep the baby with me I am going to feel selfish and like I should be a bigger person who rises above all the anger and frustration, who is more reasonable and mature than the BabyDaddy. It seems like either or both options could make me a good parent, or not, and I hope I've made the right choice. Because that kid there makes everything right for me and I need to do the same for him.

It Doesn't Matter What They Tell You

I saw a great baby shirt which read "My Mum Doesn't Want Your Advice". I decided it would be passive aggressive to dress my baby in this when I delivered him to the BabyDaddy's family, but I had fun thinking about doing that.

You will get so much advice when you are pregnant, and even more so when you have a Little One. People will try to "prepare" you, even though you cannot be prepared for having a baby by anything anyone says. You just have to live it with your whole heart, and wing it, and say YES THANK YOU! to anyone who offers to make you a meal or hold the baby while you shower.

In all the advice I got, here are a few things it would have helped me to know that no-one ever mentioned.

*If you have your Mum staying with you, and you ask her to put clean sheets on your bed while you are in the hospital giving birth, 1) so you don't put clean sheets on only to have your waters break all over them and 2) because even if you are getting very little sleep climbing into clean sheets is still divine, suggest that she doesn't choose to put the white sheets on your bed for you. The red sheets, the navy sheets, the black sheets or even the beige sheets would all be better for you to sleep on in the days after giving birth, rather than the white sheets.

*Doctors will try to convince you they are always right. I made a choice during the delivery of my Little One which the doctors disagreed with, because it wasn't as convenient for them. At my post-partum check-up six weeks later, a doctor looked at my notes and asked why this thing had happened, and why they hadn't done this instead. I said it was because I had asked them to let this thing happen, and not to do this. The doctor gave me a really condescending look and asked/told me, "Now, wouldn't it have been better if this had happened?" My response was that no, it would not have been better, I stand by my well-thought-out choice, I would chose the same thing again and seriously, fucking hell doctors like to be right so much that even six weeks later they will tell you how you are wrong and should not assert opinions on what is easiest for them to do with your body.

*People will make assumptions. Any time I was out with a male person, just the two of us, it was assumed he was the father of my baby. While having the baby the BabyDaddy was there, and so it was assumed we were a couple, even though I referred to my birthing partner SweetestPink for reassurance, help, support, and decision-making way more often than I turned to him.

After the Little One had arrived I asked if I could have a shower before being taken to the ward. The baby, the BabyDaddy and I were escorted to a bathroom and were left there all together, because I couldn't be left alone to shower due to all the numbing my post-birthing stitching-up required, and as it was assumed we were together, it shouldn't have been a problem for me to shower in front of him. As it was it wasn't a problem, he'd watched the baby being born (despite prior discussions where we'd decided he would stay by my head), so when that bathroom door clicked shut on us and he asked if I was comfortable with this situation I told him to look at the baby and let me shower because, really, after the day we'd had, we could manage this.

I'm sure I'd had more advice to impart but then there's this thing called Baby Brain, where even when you get more sleep it is never enough sleep and you can't remember much including what you were just saying and it's a wonder you are coherent at all really, seeing as most of your daily conversation is to the baby and isn't always intelligible. So I'll finish with the best thing I've found about having a baby, and that is: it gets better every day. Not in the Dan Savage kind of way, which I'm not mocking or knocking. But the first day after the Little One was born, me and his Dad sat there staring at him all day, amazed he was here. And now, six months later, I've not gotten bored of watching him. He does so much more now, is so much more interactive, his little personality gets bigger every day as he explores and learns and discovers. He smiles, and makes lots of sounds, and frowns when he doesn't like things, and giggles when he finds something funny, and snuggles into the crook of my neck when he's tired. I looked at him one day when he was about a month old and thought I know you better than anyone, and I hardly know you at all. I know him so much better now, and getting to know him, and seeing him getting to know about life, is consistently amazing and fun, more and more so all the time.

Having the Baby, Part II

In the first part of the birth story I'd gotten as far as the decision to have an epidural after deciding that pride was a stupid reason not to have one. Turns out once I'd decided to have one, I wanted it done as soon as possible. I had to read some information on epidurals, all of which I agreed to, as even in reading it I was thinking, yeah, as if anyone ever reads this leaflet and then decides no. Besides, it's not like the leaflet is getting your full attention at this point.

When the anesthesiologist came in I was instructed to lie on my side for her to put in the epidural. This began the worst part of the whole labour. Lying down was excruciating, I had to be still so I didn't get paralyzed, and it seemed as soon as I lay down the contractions started coming back-to-back (as opposed to every 2-3 minutes). The leaflet had told me an epidural took 20 minutes to put in. Mine took 40 minutes. I had a lot of gas and air during that 40 minutes. I was fully concentrating on breathing and not moving during this process. SweetestPink and the BabyDaddy were both sitting facing me, I think SweetestPink was touching my head and I was gripping the BabyDaddy's hand. It was awful. About half an hour into this procedure the midwife said "We're about to put the needle in now" and in my mind I was like What?! You haven't even put the needle in yet?!?! I think that was the point where I whispered This is awful to SweetestPink, if a whisper can also double as a whine and a whimper.

I was holding the gas and air nozzle in the hand that was underneath me, and this hand began to turn blue from lack of circulation. I could feel this happening but didn't care, as I was trying to deal with much bigger discomforts. In an effort to be helpful the BabyDaddy yanked this arm out from underneath me and transferred the gas and air to my other hand. Unfortunately the biggest result of this action was the hand which had formerly been holding the gas and air now had intense pins and needles, which didn't really improve things at a time when I wasn't allowed to move because they were sticking a needle in my spine. Anyway, eventually the epidural was in and we could all relax.

In fact, after the epidural, all the drama and heavy breathing and intensity seemed a bit ridiculous, like a big fuss over nothing because everything was fine. I sort of felt like we should have brought a deck of cards to pass the time, as we all were just sat around killing time. I sent a few texts, phoned my Mum, tried to sleep a bit, answered the phone when the ReluctantQueen rang and asked if it was a good time to talk, (Not really, I'm having the baby).

Things were gravy for a few hours until the epidural wore off, which no-one had warned me would happen. Then I was back on the gas and air for awhile until it was topped up again. We had a wonderful midwife for 12 hours during the day, and during this calm time we enjoyed chatting with her and the student midwife (because after you have an epidural they aren't allowed to leave you alone).

I had a part of my upper abdomen where I could still what was occuring, and with each contraction I willed the drugs to be working, so that I could birth this baby naturally. I did not want to be stuck in the hospital for three days (mandatory after a C-section) and, I wanted to believe in my body and my strength. After a year of being so angry and frustrated with my body constantly doing wrong, scary, and painful things, I had learned to love my body again during the pregnancy. I wanted to see the process through naturally. Even though I had already "failed" on giving into an epidural (rebuke to self: it was the right choice, not a failure), it was really important to me to give birth naturally. For a bunch of reasons, but honestly, the biggest reason is probably because I am a perfectionist, and unrealistically hard on myself.

We got a new midwife at 8pm, and I didn't like her, but I also didn't care because I knew we were almost done. When I was checked at 9pm I was fully dilated. They left me to rest for another half an hour, and then the pushing began. I was so ready for this! It was a bit strange for it not to occur organically, and to have to be told to push, and the few minutes before we began when everyone was standing around waiting for it all to start was weird. It was great, after all the hours of labour, to finally feel like I was doing something!

As soon as the pushing began it all seemed to happen quickly (SweetestPink later told me that it did all happen really quickly). With every contraction the baby's heartrate dropped, so other medical people were called in, and it was decided that the delivery would be assisted. As the obstetrician was preparing the ventouse I was pushing as hard as I could with each contraction, trying to get the baby out before she got her equipment ready. I was giving three good pushes with every contraction and after the third this midwife I didn't like always said "And one more!" and I was like Uhhh, no, that's it. My whole being was focussed on pushing, I had no time to take in anything else about this moment. It was only when I'd look over at the BabyDaddy that I realized the magnitude of this event. Bless him, he was holding his head in his hands and his eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his face and when I looked at him I'd think, Huh, this is a HUGE thing happening right now. And then I'd have another contraction and nothing except pushing with all my might was important. I remember him telling me to breathe, but it was impossible to push and breathe and during the contractions I chose push. In between contractions the obstetrician was sticking things up me, which was against the process, and hurt like a bitch. I did not like her either. She dropped the first ventouse she was going to use, rendering it unsterile, so she had to use a smaller one, which popped off the baby's head both times she stuck it on him, after which she went right for the forceps. As soon as she had the forceps on, his head was out with the next contraction. And then there was this lull while everyone waited for me to have the next contraction and everyone was staring at me and kept asking if I was having a contraction and I was like "In a minute!" And then I finally had the last contraction and he was out, and a million things happened in the next moments, including him being taken away to the corner of the room, me being given a needle I didn't want, SweetestPink telling me he was beautiful and crying, and me lying there feeling satisfied and strong, because what I'd just done was really hard work.

He took a few minutes to cry, which I wasn't worried about because he was born fast, but I punched my fist in the air when I heard him first yell. Then he was brought over and laid on me and he was all gross and squashed and red and angry. They'd put his hat on without cleaning off his head, so his little hat looked like it has been in a massacre, and he screamed and screamed, and raised his head up and looked around and screamed. I wasn't sure he was supposed to be able to lift his head up, and I thought he was really ugly but I also knew I loved him anyway, and that I was really really glad he was finally here.

Edit: Having a baby makes you forget things, like that I already started writing the second part of this. Twice. I just checked my draft posts and found the beginning of Part Two again. I think it was better than the beginning of this post, so I am ending this post with a beginning. Awww, much like the end of pregnancy is a huge new beginning.

**OMG, I have almost bored myself writing this story. Not really, I loved this day. However, I have almost forgotten how to blog it's been so long. And what I now want to blog about is all the things which have happened since I brought the baby home, but I'm stubborn (or as I prefer to say, tenacious) so I'm going to finish the story I've started, because, much like labour, you just can't quit halfway through, no matter how tired or fed up you are. (Edit: At which point I obviously quit writing this post, hahahahahaha)

Talking Behind Facebook's Back

In this edition of Things I Would Like To Say But Not On Facebook, I'm going to say a few things which, if I made them status updates, would lose me friends because I have "friends" who do these things and they would probably know I was referring to them unless they are keeping me as a friend because they are all about numbers but in terms of actually caring about me they don't because I'm not in their news feed.

So, without further ado in the form of another really run-on sentence, the following is a short list of Things I Don't Think Should Happen:

* Don't give animals chemo. If your pet is sick enough to need chemo, do the heartbreaking and right thing for your beloved pet. Bring the pet home to die if that's comfortable, or give the pet all of their favorite treats before the vet gives it a needle. You can't explain chemo to an animal and it isn't fair to put an animal through it.

* Make-up on children. Unless your child has found your make-up and liberally applied it themselves, as in smeared it all over their face because doing that was fun, kids should not be wearing make-up. Five year olds do not need false eyelashes or to be worrying about whether their lipstick is smudged. This item on the list is one of the very many reasons why pageants for children should not exist.

*Posed photo shoots for babies. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not opposed to professional photo shoots just because I can't afford them. I have seen lovely, natural photos of families done by professionals, and I think those are great. What I'm referring to is dressing up your three month old in a cook's hat and apron and placing a whisk in his hand and proclaiming him "Our Little Chef!" Or balancing your wobbly toddler on a pile of books with a library backdrop, making her wear a mortar board and telling us her nickname is Doogie Houser. Wrong wrong wrong. Even though your baby is wearing a safari hat and khakis, and gnawing on a whip, no-one believes that you've propped your baby up in an actual jungle. Unless you are making a novelty calendar, I don't like these fake scenes. Babies are cute enough! Make real memories of things they are actually doing, like chewing their toes and squashing banana into their hair.

* Recently a man friend of mine updated that he was out for lunch with a lovely lady (his Mum, not me). His fiance (who he has been dating for five months and engaged to for four) commented "TELL ME WHAT BITCH YOU ARE OUT FOR LUNCH WITH SO I CAN KILL HER!!!" There are so many reasons why her reaction is wrong but mostly it made me wonder why, when a guy cheats, does the girl so often get really mad at the other girl and hate on her, instead of holding her boyfriend accountable? For some reason it's always the other woman's fault as if she has somehow seduced and tricked the innocent man into philandering. Getting cheated on hurts, but it is the actions of your loved one, not the stranger, which has hurt you. Don't displace your anger so you can justify staying with a man who cheats on you.

This concludes my list of Things I Don't Think Should Happen. Facebook brought all of these things to my attention, but this is not a list of things which specifically shouldn't happen on Facebook. For that list, go here.

Midnight Diamonds

This is not Part Two of the Birth Story. It's not like you're hanging on for the ending anyway, everyone knows I had the baby. No, I intercept that story with a truth I need to say, but more privately than on fb: I'm lonely.

I love being a Mum so much. My little man is undoubtedly the best thing in my life, I am amazed by him and grateful for him daily, hourly. But at night after he's gone to bed and I'm on my own for a few quiet hours, that's when it hits me that I'm mostly alone. I can't go out so I can't stay busy, I feel like my friends and their social lives, which I used to be a part of, continue and I'm not even invited any more. This is the only time when I think it sucks to be a single parent, when there is no camaraderie in which to share how life has changed so much.

The baby is still only little, I must slow down and calm down and know that this is only for now and not forever. I'm so impatient, I want everything right now. There's subtle competition with the BabyDaddy, to be seen as competent and busy and keeping up all the time. It's like I lose face if he asks what I'm doing and I'm not doing anything. After all, it's Saturday night! And I know he's at a bbq with mates, drinking and smoking and having a laugh, while he knows I'm in my flat with the sleeping baby, otherwise alone, and lonely. He might meet someone tonight, he might get laid, he might move on with his life in ways I can't but would like to feel weren't totally inaccessible to me......but they currently are.

Sigh. Blog whine. This week has been tough y'all, there have been a series of shitty and unsettling events that I've had to handle alone because I'm an adult with big responsibilities, which I do handle but it can be tough sometimes, especially when being overwhelmed or quitting isn't an option any more, my actions and choices directly affect more than just me these days. Coming back from Canada was a reality smack in the face. This is it now: lovely days with my happy baby, constant fights with his uncooperative daddy who still cites that "this is why we shouldn't have had this baby" every time I ask him to help or say that it's tough sometimes, grandparents too far away to help, friends getting on with their lives and seemingly forgetting about me, and long nights when I'm tired but I still wouldn't mind knowing that if I could have gone out I'd have had somewhere to go. Tonight I even had a look at some online dating sites. That lasted about five minutes, literally, and made me feel even worse than I imagined it would (I have never imagined online dating would make me feel good). I never thought I'd have a baby and I wanted that kind of love in my life more than any other kind. I have it now and I'm still so greedy even though I have a child, I also want a soulmate. Will that never happen? Will I always be alone? It feels so, especially nights like this, when I feel invisible to my friends, when my old life seems light years away. Everyone said having a baby would be hard, and the baby part so far has been so delightful and so natural it's felt easy. The only really hard part has been this, these nights and this loneliness.

Oh precious heart,

You think you're lost,

Look down look down

And find your feet

I'm a good Mum to a happy, healthy baby. I've had a tough week and not much sleep. I'm not a loser because I'm not out on a Saturday night or because nobody loves me in a way that makes them want to stay in with me on a Saturday night. It might feel like it but things change all the time and I am good at waiting out difficult things, especially when these lonely nights are a small difficult thing at the end of wonderful days I spend with my best most blessed thing ever.