To Mummy and Daddy

I have an apology to make. To every parent I ever judged, before I became a Mummy.

I’m sorry.

I used to roll my eyes when you were late and I was bang on time. I thought: sure, it takes longer to get the car packed with a baby and all its stuff. So get ready to leave ten minutes earlier. Be more organised. It’s not that hard.

I am sorry. I didn’t know you were feeding your baby on demand, and when baby is hungry, baby is hungry. I didn’t consider you might have been attempting to problem solve on the fly. Baby vomited all over themselves just as you put them in the car? Back into the house for you. With that heavy baby capsule.

I used to judge you for being over protective and maybe a little too soft. Just leave your baby at the childcare centre and walk away. Easy, said me, who looked on and wondered why on earth it was so hard for you just to say goodbye as your baby cried in the arms of a stranger. She is a friendly stranger. And she is good at her job.

I am so sorry. I had no idea. Your little angel was crying out for their Mummy. Their Mummy.

I used to wonder why you were so worried about getting your kid home to bed right on time. Really. It is one night. Deal with it.

Again. Sorry. I had the luxury of knowing that every night I could relax with my husband and just be us, without fail. I didn’t know that you were petrified about changing baby’s daily routine, even for just one night. What if that one change meant that the next night and the night after, you would have to say goodbye to those precious baby free hours you craved. The ones where you’d finally get to really look at your partner and marvel at the beautiful person that once was your whole entire world.

I am sorry. I was pompous and naïve. And I suppose, I was a little cruel. Because you were just doing what you needed to do. And I was looking at you thinking you were doing it all wrong.

I now know that there is no wrong when it comes to parenting. We all do what we need to do to get through each day with a smile, just as we did before our beautiful babies came along.

We are Mummy and Daddy, now. How could that not have changed everything? Now when I see your child in pain, I think of my own child and my heart cries for you. Now when I see your child throwing a tantrum in the supermarket I smile and I-just-know.

Of course, if you are one of the many Mummy’s or Daddy’s reading this apology, meant just for you, you also know that I have to cut this apology short. And you know why. Because there is a small person in my house—the one that has my husband’s beautiful long lashes and my soft pink cheeks— who has just woken from his nap.

And he needs his Mummy.

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How Early is Too Early?

ImageHow early is too early? That’s what I’ve been wondering.

Even before Mister C and I started trying to conceive—I couldn’t help it. I just had to buy the books. What to expect when you’re expecting. What to expect before you’re expecting. You know the drill.

But my question is: have I peeked too early? My worry is that by the time I actually do become pregnant I’ll have run out of pregnancy books to peruse!

To combat this very real issue, I have set some boundaries.  I have three books to help me through pre conception. And until I am ‘up the duff’, those three will be it.

Some of my other rules are as follows:

 Rule number 1: My google searches must be limited to pre-conception only.

Curious about maternity clothes? Too bad Miss Cookas! Those kinds of searches will have to wait for the BFP (Big Fat Positive—don’t you love all the crafty acronyms used in internet land?!)

Rule Number 2: Absolutely NO baby clothes or books. None. Not even a glance down the baby isle at target. No Miss Cookas. Put down that teddy!

You might think all these boundaries and rules are silly. And if you do, I don’t blame you. I can be a bit weird sometimes. But the thing is I just want to leave some mystery for my pregnancy. I want to save the magic of being an expectant mother for when I actually become an expectant mother.

For now, I’m just trying to savour the moments I have alone with my precious Mister C. I’ll enjoy my sleep ins. I even had a moment of clarity when picking Mister C up from the bar the other night at mid night—this is a symbol of my last years of true freedom.

Me and Mister C were only just talking about that the other day—how much we’ll miss it being just us. But at the same time: we are so excited to share our special love with another.

And that’s where baby comes in.

Miss Cookas and The Snotty Two Week Wait

The two week wait—a phenomenon that envelops women everywhere who are trying to conceive a baby. Symptoms include excessive googling, possibly imagined nausea, possibly imagined back pain, possibly imagined abdominal cramps and a snotty nose.

Yep. That’s me. And with all the googling I’ve been doing –every single day, every other second—I’ve noticed that I am not alone. I take comfort in the knowledge that there are other women out there who are just as obsessive dedicated to researching ‘symptoms of the two week wait’ as I am.

I do try to listen when the rational part of me says ‘chill out and step away from the computer.’ I really do try. But in this, my first two week wait, I’m finding the rational part of me is fighting a losing battle.

And really, I have to ask myself, is this craziness all that bad? Okay, so the googling might be making me go a little loopy, but at the same time, it is making me super smart. I can already feel my inner smart person praising the pregnancy gods, thanking them for my new found knowledge of all things ‘trying to conceive.’

Also, I can’t believe it has taken me this long to learn, and actually appreciate what is going on inside my own body. For me, that has been the real eye opener in this whole experience.

As I said in one of my previous entries, the cervix, and cervical mucus, was uncharted territory for me before all this baby making began. And I’m guessing the same goes for many of you women out there who are also trying to conceive. As for all you men out there: I’m guessing she’s told you too much information all about her inner gooey stuff too.

Enjoy that. Because when she finally conceives, I hear you’ll have a whole new set of challenges to face.

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And then the tears came

You all know the moment don’t you? The one where some unsuspecting person asks you how you’re feeling—and you reply by bursting into an irrational bout of tears?

The other day, that was me. An irrational, sobbing mess. And the thing is, once I’d started, I just could not stop crying!

I can only assume that it’s hormones I have to blame for this ridiculous behaviour. I’ve been off the pill for two months now; there are going to be kinks. And girls, even though we take comfort in the knowledge that every girl goes through the craziness that hormones present, don’t you think it is just-so-weird?

But, I guess I can’t blame it all on the hormones. In fact, I’m betting that stress is a major factor in my ‘raining eyes’ syndrome. You see, I have just moved from the city to the country. And although in the long run I know this is a good thing, for now, it’s a little bit scary! I’ve gone from being stuck in city traffic to being stuck in a vortex of Kangaroos, long grass and small town gossip! It is a lot to take in, let me tell you.

But this place that I’ve found myself in; this beautiful miracle of earth that is my
new home…this is where me and Mr C belong. Yes, it’s awful starting a new job (that I’m pretty hopeless at by the way, hence the stress). But this is what we have wanted for a long time: to settle in the quietness of the country.

And I couldn’t have picked a better time to do it. Before the baby making begins.

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Alas, dear Cervix. What’s in a name?

IImage‘ve never really thought about my cervix.

And when I say never really, what I actually mean is never ever, ever, ever really thought about my cervix.  Now though, it’s all about the cervix and—get ready for it—cervical mucus (gross).

Where is my cervix? Is that my cervix? Is that my cervix? The questions are endless. And that’s where Doctor Google comes into it.

It turns out that Doctor Google is not a Doctor at all. Doctor Google is actually a whole bunch of lovely ladies out there who are just like me—women trawling the internet searching for information on how to get the job done.

It is refreshing to know that everyone is just as obsessive about this baby making thing as I am. They have all the books. They’re doing all the ovulation tests. They may have even joined a trying to conceive forum— yes, I’ve noticed those out there!

And while I really do appreciate the questions they put to the other Dr Google representatives out there, I’ll never be one to ask a question. I’m happy just researching away.

I have the books. I’ve made a choice not to do the ovulation tests.  I’ve found that this baby making business already gives you so many things to analyse and obsess about. And don’t get me wrong, I’m sure that the tests are fabulous for some woman. But I’ll be the first to say that good old Miss Cookas here can be a bit of a basket case on occasion: extra stress is just not for me.

So, for now I’m going it alone. Just me and my Cervix. I trust that it’ll point me in the right direction when the time comes. It is a natural part of me after all; Mother Nature is one clever lady.

And when she gives me the ‘heads up’ to start making babies…

I can’t tell you how excited I will be.