I’m Having Trouble Detaching

Ninny’s op taught me something.

It taught me that I can be “that mum” The one who calms, comforts and looks into a beautiful but incredibly red and inflamed eye and sees the beauty and promises it will all be okay.

Because it will. I will make sure of it.

livs

But now every time I look at her, especially when she gets sad, I see this.

Then I remember how I felt when I had to wrangle her to sleep. Each wriggle pulling her in closer, each cough wanting to smack the mask away.

Then I get all upset. Worried. Guilty.

I hate it when she’s not with me. It feels horrid. I want to know where she is and exactly what she is doing. If she’s okay. Happy.

I want to try and turn it off a little. Be less anal.

To let go of her hand and not feel that horrible pain I felt when I placed her poor little self on the bed.

I worry at every grumble, cry or itch.

I just want her to be okay. Happy. No more double vision or eye drops.

When I got up on Friday morning I felt for sure Daddy would be the chosen one for the day. He would be the hero as always. Cause he’s strong and brave.

But it was my turn. And now I can’t go back to “normal”

 

My First Time #lifeisreborn

Now, this isn’t a birth story, but more about how my life changed in an instant. It’s more about my first time becoming a Mum which I think fits perfectly with Johnson’s baby new advert coming out, remembering when life is reborn, when just one minute can change your life forever.

My #lifeisreborn moment would have to be the first time. Mainly because it was the first time I had held a baby, let alone feed and change her nappy. I was clueless and still in shock from the whole birth part, but still some memories will be with me forever, those are the first few memories when my life changed.

When Pop’s was born, she looked like a porcelain doll, just was just perfect, and I had made her, I made that perfect face:

newborn

 

The birth was a right of passage in itself, but that is a story for another day. The first few moments of her life we were able to get our very first family photo, one I will always remember. Mainly because I look scary.

hospital

 

No wait, that’s not even the worst one…

me 1st

 

The fact I even had my own pillow makes this photo even more odd! Anyway hours after birth Hubby was still with me. I was unable to move for a while so he took charge. I was safe with the knowledge he was there to hold my hand and show me the ropes. It was so nice watching their bond grow, I watched him become a Dad right in front of me.

hospital together

 

But, time still rolls on and eventually it was time for him to leave. So I was left with Pops, never having even held a baby, I was left to my own devices on the ward. They were trusting me with this little life. A life that came with no instructions or how to guide, it just was.

Pops had a low temp so I was asked to hold her close for a while. So I did. About 6 hours later the midwife came round and found it highly amusing I was still sat in the same position, frightened to put her down in case she was too cold. I decided to try my hand at feeding, however Pops got the hiccups. So, like any clueless new mother I felt the need to ring my buzzer, not really sure what I thought was happening?!

Anyway, after the horrifically scary hiccups went away, I was barely able to keep my eyes open. It was sleepy time.

liv 1

 

Oddly enough, I went to sleep and woke up before she did and suddenly knew how to be a Mum. I laid everything out for her, new clothes, nappy, everything. I was sat waiting for her to wake up and when she finally did, I changed her, clean clothes a bottle and some much needed cuddles. Suddenly the whole Mum feeling washed over me, I was no longer scared pick her up, I was her Mum and she was my responsibility.

In a split second we went from being a couple to becoming a family and overnight I slowly became a ‘real’ Mum and all our lives had changed forever 🙂

me and liv

 

Head over and watch the Johnsons Baby #lifeisreborn advert. What was your life changing moment?

A Dying Art?

So, I am back from holiday, I will have a blog to follow, I promise.


I find mothers like my mother to be a dying art.


I guess it could be the ever changing times, or the ever changing people. 


My mother, to me, really is one of a kind. Now I know to each of us, all our mothers are amazing, but I always found mine had that something special. She is the always doing, jam making kind of mother. She bakes everything herself, after a 12 hour shift she would always come home and cook our tea. As a child I can never remember her being poorly or having a down day. She was always the one on the go, nothing ever too much trouble, never a bad word out of her mouth. I have to say I cannot ever remembering her use the phrase ‘I’m tired’ She is and was the most kind and caring person I know. I never realised it before, but she really is like my idol. Although I don’t have the physical strength, or ability to do everything she did and still, in-fact, does do. 


Growing up you never realise, as a moody teen, that your mother is really an incredible woman, and although I wish so badly I was like her, I simply am not. 


I don’t and can’t (unaided) cook alone, I do say ‘I’m tired’ a substantial amount and as much as I would like to I just don’t have the energy she has. 


I hope the fact I am not the same as her and that I do have to live differently still makes her proud. I now know that I was blessed to have her as a mother growing up and although I can’t be the same I take the lessons she taught me and use them with my girls. 


My sister however is alot more like my mum, strong and very able. Although she would never admit it, she is more like mum than she realises. I admire it alot.


One of the hardest things about having MS is telling people and explaining in to them. Friends have gone, the good ones have stayed. With my family however they have all stood by my side and promised to be there always. My family do more for me than most. My sister is my carer and I make sure I still call my mum everyday, sad? Maybe, but I guess I just miss her.


I think as my girls grow up and become more aware, it makes me look at myself. What the girls see and hear becomes more visible everyday, I need to be more careful with my attitude and the way I come across. As like my mum, I would love the girls to look up to me, to know I will always be that constant in their lives. Although I can’t quite be superwoman, I can be my own version. 


Where did you take your parenting skills and advice from? Did you, like me have a super-mum?