Back to School

You probably know the feeling. It's a very specific, nostalgic, optimistic feeling that only happened on one day per year. I'm certain the retail industry know the feeling, and use it perenially to advertise something or other. The type of weather we've been having lately - still sunny but with a slight chilly edge to it - always brings it back to me so powerfully.

You wake up earlier than usual to the sound of your alarm (or your mum calling you). The air feels a bit colder than the day before, maybe there's some dew on the cars and grass outside. Your new unspoilt uniform is hanging up waiting (instead of on the floor where you usually keep your clothes). Your bag is already packed, containing pencils with unbroken leads, fresh virgin notebooks, maybe a new textbook, a new pen, set of compasses, a clean rubber. You leave the house knowing that you are on time, tidy, and haven't forgotten anything at all. You will have a new teacher, maybe new classmates, no-one will remember how sad and stupid you were last term, or how much you got into trouble, or the pointless argument you had. In fact you can feel yourself morphing into a whole new person... Everything will be different this year...

A few weeks ago I was feeling quite disillusioned with myself. I fairly often wish I was the type of person who got things done, followed things through, and stuck to the high standards I set myself. (This is despite the fact that I have met a few of these types of people and generally they are not any happier than me - probably the reverse, because their standards are even higher.) In the practical world of keeping the house clean, getting DIY done and doing my tax return, and also in the spiritual world of staying close to God, praying regularly, fixing my mind on things that are not of this world, I fall short so often.

As I was praying about this I remembered something which is one of the most beautiful and releasing things about the Christian faith - whenever we ask, God can give us a new beginning. Through Jesus death, which paid for all of our messes, sins, mistakes and hurts, we can have a fresh start a thousand times a day if we need it. When we are forgiven, God looks at us and sees the righteousness of His Son. The tricky bit is remembering to use this amazing freedom. When I do, it's like every day is the first day of term...

I can't sleep and...

i am wishing that i didn't have to live life in chronological order. imagine if you woke up every day not knowing what part of your life that day would come from. i could wake up with butterflies in my stomach and think "fantastic - i must be just falling in love with mr me - there will be some perfect kissing today." one day i might have lost the use of my legs, and the next day discover i was 9 again, and spend the whole day running and dancing around. i might spend a day caring for baby blue through the chicken pox and be up all night with him, and the next day be 15 again and i could give my mum a big hug of appreciation for all the time she spent caring for me instead of wishing she wouldn't embarrass me. i might work a 12 hour shift in A+E and the next day wake up to find i had retired, and spend the whole day resting, reading, walking by a lake. i might be one day a widow, and the next be back with mr me, and greet him as if we'd been separated by death for years. any day i woke up and baby blue was still a baby i would be so thrilled to hold him in my arms as he was my tiny baby again, and no matter how hard the day and night were i would treasure every second.

I suppose this idea is a little like the concept behind "The Time Traveller's Wife" - and shows the sheer joy and privilege of a single day with our loved ones. Somehow it is very hard to live in that joy when you know that tomorrow will be "just the same". But it never is exactly the same. Living in time is the enemy of valuing the moment. Anybody else fancy my idea of a mixed up life? i suppose it might be a little bit hard to ever get anything done...

Warning: sentimental post coming up

I think I've finally understood one of the mysteries of being a mother. It's the trait that young people can't understand as they grow up and become independent - why their mother can't let go, can't let their babies grow up. "Time has moved on," the child reasons, "I've changed, why can't she accept that?"

It's because she's still caught in the magic of this fleeting time, the time I'm living through now. It's a time when tiny hands come up around your neck and cling to you, when huge clear blue eyes gaze up at yours with total trust, when a tiny warm body snuggles into yours, sucking nutrition, growth, life from you, when a wave or a pincer grip can make you so proud you can hardly speak, and when a little face splits into a smile of pure delight at the sight of your face in the morning. It's such an unspeakably precious time, and it's over so fast, no wonder mothers say, "But s/he's still my baby..." I suppose the only way to learn to let go is to remember that they never were ours, they were only lent to us for a short time.

Baby Blue greets his adoring public

I have decided that I should become a nomad and live in an extended family community. Actually this is not true. But over the last week I have been sorely tempted. We spent 3 days back in Liverpool, where both my parents and my in laws live, over the Easter weekend. Baby blue behaved like a little cherub almost the whole time. There were lots of new things to look at, dribble on and put into his mouth. There were scores of people desperate to be the next one to cuddle him, play with him, show him the flowers in their gardens and put him back to sleep. I love that he is so sociable and happy to be passed around (until the separation anxiety kicks in in a few months' time), but I am slightly distressed that everybody now thinks he is a fantastically easy baby and I am generally moaning about nothing when I complain that he can be clingy, bored and grumpy.

Since coming home, obviously, he has been clingy, bored and grumpy. But to be fair to the boy, I've had some empathy training over the last few days. I've had a nasty infection in the gum over my impacted wisdom tooth, and it's surprising just how grumpy a bit of toothache can make you. He's been a lot more settled today, probably because I didn't stop moving - 10am coffee at a friend's house, followed by Ikea and lunch there, followed by another coffee in Borders with another friend, followed by the doctors' and the pharmacy. He just likes new places. Maybe he's going to be an explorer...

negative voices

It all started this morning when a friend dropped by to lend me a baby door bouncer... My elderly next door neighbour said hello to her and her 1 year old daughter, and she mentioned that it was a lovely day for gardening. He then said pointedly to me, "Yes, did you hear that? it is a lovely day for gardening."

Now our next door neighbour is a retired man (normally really lovely), and obsessed with his garden. As far as I can tell, he spends most of every day out there, despite his fairly advanced lung disease, and it is always pristine and beautiful in every season. Our garden, on the other hand, is a little rough around the edges. It has a wild unmown section at the bottom, which is a deliberate choice to give bees etc some habitat, but I sense he's not too keen on that feature, since some weeds grow there. The beds mostly have easy care perrenials in, because that's all I had time for at the best of pre-baby times. And ok the lawns haven't been mown yet this year, and things have gone a bit "to seed" since the pelvic pain kicked in halfway through pregnancy. But in my opinion it looks presentable. Compared to two and a half years ago when we bought the house and the plot was half rubble, half bed full of weeds, it's practically an oasis.

What was really disturbing was what that simple jokey comment, (which I may have totally read too much into), did to the rest of my day. I was instantly torn between paranoia (oh no he thinks I'm a terrible neighbour and inadequate housewife, gallivanting off to baby groups all week without attending to my own back garden) and anger (doesn't he understand what it's like having a new baby to take care of and how difficult it is to even keep the house clean?). I became unable to focus on the conversation with my friend after she came into the house, even though she dismissed him as a cheeky old man, and then I began to feel bad that I was coming across as scatty and absent and not in control. We talked a little about it at the end, and she said to me as she left "You're doing a great job. Hear that." But sadly this was no use. The negative comment had sunk into my brain somehow and was blocking all positivity out.

By the time I set off for my breastfeeding support group, my brain was a storm of negative voices. I spent the pleasurable sunny walk across the park thinking about my choices as a mother, and spiralling down into self-doubt. I began thinking about what will happen when I go back to work. Currently I'm planning to complete my training working half time, and then get a permanent job with even less sessions than that, if possible. I started hearing the (mostly male) voices of my colleagues at my current practice, who already feel that a year of maternity leave is an extended holiday and that I won't remember anything when I get back. Soft option they were saying to me, don't you care about your career? don't you want your son to go to private school like our children? don't you want to be a partner? Then my paranoid version of my parents voices started, You need to give your time to your child, they grow up so fast... and Christians I have read books by if you have the means you should give up work, God intended mums to look after their children. I began to feel that I will be giving both baby blue and my work less than my best. Next I began to worry what mr me was feeling about me, and projected onto him the view that I spend all week having fun and coffee with my friends, while he slaves away at work. Then I started wondering what other mums think of me, and whether they see me as a failure because baby blue is still in disposables and still has to be cuddled to sleep for his daytime naps. Then my childless friends - do they think I've turned into an antisocial baby bore? Then my own judgements on me - I forgot to clean his tooth again this morning, maybe he'll grow up with tooth decay... I didn't realise he was hungry for half an hour of grumpiness, maybe he's not growing as well as he should be because I don't feed him enough.... You get the general idea.

Fortunately the thought bog was stopped when I got to baby cafe by an hour of chatting to fellow mums, venting my frustrations re the next door neighbour, and feeling a little more that everyone's in the same boat i.e. we're all doing our best. This evening has cheered me up even more, with some affirmation from mr me, and an 8pm decaf vanilla latte at Borders, accompanied by some Marie Claire reading while he kindly manned the baby monitor at home. However, just typing out these frustrations and insecurities and (mostly unfairly attributed) opinions of others has already put a bit of a weight back into my chest.

What really annoys me is that I am still this vulnerable and weak. I was chatting with some church friends last week and bitching about the fact that most church seminars and days for women seem to keep reinforcing the same point - that you are accepted and valued by God, you are His daughter, His princess, you don't have to worry what others think of you. I implied that I'd got that by now, I'd heard it enough times, couldn't they move on to something meatier? Not all women were seething masses of insecurity, I said. Well maybe they're not, but sadly, and mortifyingly, it seems that I still am. I still need this message to sink from my head to my heart. I know this needs more prayer. I know I also need practically to learn to let little comments bounce off me, especially as society seems to judge mums for every choice that they make. I'll never be able to do everything and please everybody. I need to learn to be happy and confident in our family choices and in doing my best. But how? Does anyone have any more tips on how to beat the guilt, insecurity and self doubt that being a mum seems to exponentially increase?

the crest of a wave

I've had a few feelings of euphoria over the last two weeks, and when people ask me if I've had a good day I realise that I really have. Suddenly the pieces of my new life seem to be falling into place and I feel like I can balance again. Apparently it is quite common for this to happen when your baby is around 3 months, but I don't mind being common in this particular case.

For one thing, the feeding seems to have finally got easier, as everybody told me it would when baby blue was 3 weeks old (I didn't really believe them). Soreness is now rare, and I've managed to feed in various situations now - sitting cross legged on the floor, sitting in a folding chair, in a cafe, whereas before, I had to be either lying down or propped up by multiple pillows. This makes such a huge difference to my day, as I no longer dread each feed, I can enjoy the time spent with baby blue, and I don't dread going out of the house for longer than two hours.

Also making a huge difference to my state of mind is the improvement in baby blue's sleeping patterns. We've started over the last 2 weeks to try gently getting him into a routine, and it seems to be working relatively well. He now goes to bed at 7, meaning the evenings are free for grown up time, although he tends to wake and cry once or twice. I feed him before I go to bed, again at around half ten, and he now goes right through to 5 or 6am before needing another feed!! This is another thing that seemed totally impossible 6 weeks ago. It's amazing how much rosier the world looks when your sleep comes in 6-7 hour chunks rather than 2 hour ones!

Then there are the changes in baby blue which are happening every day. It's now possible to play with him, as he will grab a rattle, smile and laugh when I pull faces or sing songs, and have a conversation with me consisting solely of vowel sounds. Somehow the fact that I'm encouraging his development makes my day feel so much more productive than when I got to teatime and had only managed to keep him alive, fed and clean and maybe checked my emails and put a load of washing on. He can also entertain himself much better, meaning I might actually have time to hang the washing out as well as putting it in the machine!

I have discovered that getting out somewhere every day, even if it's just a walk to the Co-op, keeps me sane, and I am blessed with knowing several other new mums, so I'm rarely short of someone to have coffee or lunch with. I've been going to a breastfeeding support group, which has really helped me, and I've also started postnatal Pilates and baby massage classes, which are good fun, and have helped me make a few new friends. Today I even went to a special baby-friendly showing at the Hyde Park Cinema in Leeds. It was a little difficult to hear the movie at times! The moment when a gunshot went off in the film also caused a little bit of commotion among the babies present. But it was really great to be at the cinema again.

I'm sure within the next few weeks there will be more testing times, when baby blue starts teething, or starts waking again as he gets more hungry, when he starts rolling over and I have to start watching him like a hawk... But it's good to know that actually, I love this time, I love being a full time mum just now, and I've come through so many of the difficult things. I know if there are more difficult times, I'll be able to come through them as well, with help from God, mr me and my friends and family.

doctor/woman/mother

I've taken a long time to get around to this post, and I'm still not quite sure what to say. Everything sounds like such a cliche. On 29th November 2008 I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy after 53 hours of contractions and 17 hours of established labour. I didn't realise just how exhausting, painful and draining it would be. Classically though, as soon as I heard his cry and knew he was OK, everything else was forgotten in the wonder of meeting our surprisingly clean, deliciously warm baby boy with his huge dark blue eyes. I think I shall here call him baby blue, as that's one of my many nicknames for him. He has changed our lives forever, of course, as babies do. We are both head over heels in love with him and can spend hours just watching his face. He can get me up four times in the night (as he did last night), leaving me totally exhausted and grumpy in the morning, but one big smile as I get him dressed melts my heart completely.

Some things have been (and still are) so hard, including the slow torture of sleep deprivation, both me and baby blue getting the hang of breastfeeding, getting used to the changes in my body, the sheer insane wash of emotions that swept over me in the first couple of weeks... I found the huge shift in my identity and thought processes a bit of a shock, as I got accustomed to being a life support machine and being tied so closely to this tiny dependent demanding little person. At the moment being a doctor seems so far away, and even remembering to be a woman requires a little focus and time to myself. Mostly I'm just a new mum - worrying about doing everything just right, fighting to get myself enough rest and down time, overcome by this new love, and convinced that this little boy is the most perfect in the world. I am desperate to just have a bit more predictability to my life, and to be able to leave him for a few hours, and simultaneously aware that I should savour every second of this time, which will never come again. So forgive me if I don't post very often, but I'll try to keep you a little bit updated. But mostly I'll be wrapped up in my son for a while...