Skip to main content

Featured Post

A mothers Loneliness

I am lying in bed wondering when the next feed will be.  It is usually around this time so it feels almost pointless to go to sleep before he wakes.  It's in these moments I dare to let my thoughts loose.  The ones I have been too busy all day with my baby to listen to.  It's in these moments I hold back the tears and try to push the welling grief down.  I am led right next to my husband, he is sleeping, and although I could just put my hand out and touch him - he feels further away than ever.I am lying here knowing I am lonelier than ever. My baby is asleep in the adjoining room, he has a cold and I can hear his nose whistling as he sleeps soundly.  In that room is my whole heart, my reason for going on, my reason for living.I have never had many friends, I came from a military family so we moved so many times friendships were fleeting and even in my adult life I have also remained nomadic! Maybe it's a learnt behaviour, not holding onto friendships because I always leave…

A Mum's response to Terror

Today I am still reeling from the terrible events in Manchester. I held my little baby boy last night and cried at the thought of the world I have brought him into, such pain and suffering.
The fear that grips my heart though is not that these evil monsters exist in this world and they could take me or my loved ones in such a cruel and callous way. Not these horrible cruel people who I cannot protect my son from but is a fear that they will win.

I scrolled through my newsfeed and saw hatred spewing from people I call friends. Shocking sweeping statements. I see racist slogans and far right groups capitalising on our fear. I see a whole religion being tarred with the same brush as this evil scum without a second thought.

I look at my son and he knows no prejudice, he knows no difference between race or skin colour, he knows no difference between a Muslim, Christian or Jew. He has no sense of superiority or hatred. He was born, like we all were, as an equal to all others and with a purity and innocence. Any hatred or prejudice he grows up to have is what we as a society have taught him. This is the challenge of my generation. To feel the pain and fear that such atrocities cause but to stand firm and grow strong to not fall victim to their evil. Not to believe or spread the hate they want us to feel, not to divide our societies but instead we need to be strong and resilient and raise our children with hope.

I will read all the stories of my childhood to my little boy; of how good triumphs evil. Of how monsters are defeated and how kindness and love is always right.

I will rise to the challenge these monsters have set us as a society and bring my child up to be accepting and loving and kind. To fight for what is right and to reject all that is evil and wrong. I will bring him up in a world where the innocence he was born with will be stolen from him far too early but I will be there to guide him and cherish him and teach him to be the beacon of hope that his generation must be.

As a mother all I can do is hope that it will be enough.


Popular posts from this blog

Motherhood and Depression: The fight of my Life

Today I woke up and for a moment I lay still staring at the ceiling and forced myself to listen to my breath.  I lay there and felt my chest rise and fall as I breathed.  It took all my will power to keep my focus on my breath, a mindfulness technique I have been taught.  I did this for maybe 30 seconds maybe a minute as my husband got up to the baby.  I was lying there trying to keep my focus off the one thing that has dominated my thoughts recently.  The dark, dismal feelings that have clawed their way into my life that bring with them the thoughts that I just can’t go on anymore.  These thoughts bring with them tears and heartbreak and they make living a normal life more and more difficult.

My bipolar disorder has made me prone to depression.  It is a life long battle, but as my husband carries my beautiful son into our room that battle has to be put on hold; a momentary truce.  He is my world, the reason my heart beats and despite my turmoil he is not going to see me cry.  I take …

The trials and tribulations of choosing a nursery

It has come far too quickly! Everybody told me it would fly by and it has done.  I cannot believe that I am fst neqring the end of my maternity leave and as the SMP runs out I have to go bck to work!  Yes I would rather stay at home with my baby boy, but sadly for me that is just not a viable option. I could weep and break my heart over this but instead I am trying to focus on the positive that I only have to go back part time.  What this has led to is the trauma of deciding which nursery to send my most prized treasure too!  Something I was not anticipating to be quite as difficult as it was. For me geographical poximty was kind of irrelevant as I live in a rural village in a rural area so the local town is really the only option; any nursery would require a car journey so this factored quite low on the priority list. Which opened up about 6 possibilities. People told me I would have a gut feeling abour a nursery and it didn't matter what anyone else told you, you would know whi…

Time to take back control: A Mum's battle with the Post Baby Body

I have not been happy with my post baby body for some time now.  It just has never felt like the right time to take on the battle of getting back into shape! There is always something that seems to take priority and one thing I have come to realise is that taking time for myself to work out or to go for a run has seemed selfish and unimportant since becoming a mother! 
But as I stood in front of the mirror the other day in my underwear and I let my critical eye survey the damage of these last few months of neglect, My heart sank and the tears flowed!  I am baring all, to say to all you lovely mums out there who are feeling a little overwhelmed with your post baby bodies - you are not alone! So here it is, wobbly tummy and love handles galore!
This is me! I am not ashamed of what I have become because every curve and wobble tells a story of my journey in motherhood, it tells a tale of me putting my baby first, making poor food choices out of weariness from loving a poorly baby, or b…