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 le
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 wit