I first became a mum when I was 29 to my son. I was overjoyed as we had been trying for over a year. After a 15 hours of late stage labour (it was probably closer to 36 hours altogether) and then having to have an emergency c-section, it was far from the hypno-water birth I had imagined and I have a rough road to recovery.
However, he was a good sleeper from about 8 weeks old and I was spoiled with how much he loved to nap. I thought to myself, ‘hey, I could do this full-time’. However, I craved adult conversation and being able to have a wee without an audience. So I went back to work part-time, which was great. I had the best of both worlds, apart from the fact that I’m a teacher, so I never really escaped children. At least with secondary school kids I could have a slightly more stimulating conversation than whether Postman Pat drives a van or a car. (Clearly it’s a van, it says so in the lyrics!)
I have always enjoyed my days at home though, watching them grow and develop. Although we have had our fair share of misfortune. At 9 months old, he was hospitalised with pneumonia and it was then that one of the emergency doctors picked up that lil man had a heart murmur.
After extensive tests, it was revealed that my lil man had two complex and quite rare heart defects; Sinus venosus defect with partial anomalous pulmonary venous drainage. We were reassured, however, that it wouldn’t affect him day to day and that he would eventually need an operation but not until he was about 7 years old.
12 months later (for those of you, like myself, still have baby brain my son was 23 months old) I gave birth to my daughter. Well, I say ‘gave birth’ I had (my second) caesarean section, after I was admitted into St Thomas’ hospital 2 days prior. As much as I loved spending a couple of nights in Westminster, doing a bit of shopping and going to restaurants while we waited for the baby’s arrival, it couldn’t go on forever, hence another c-section.
The reason why I was induced in the first place was because my second bundle of joy had suspected Coarctation of the aorta . To you and me that means the main artery is a bit squashed. Sounds simple enough, but turns out it can be fatal and therefore a specialised cot and medical team had to be on standby when she popped out in case anything took a serious turn. We obviously don’t like simple in our family!
Thankfully, nothing did take a serious turn. We were though, in hospital 2 weeks all-in-all before we could all go home as my lil princess did need a small operation on her tongue. Poor sausage, had only been breathing for days and had already had more tests and more NHS staff poke her about than I’ve had cups of tea. (I’m a teacher, so that’s a lot).
Still….both babies are doing well these days, apart from excessive sick and poo, but then that’s more my problem really isn’t it?
I thought I would start writing a blog to keep myself sane on the days when you want to smash your head through a double glazed window. And also, I thought it would be great to look back on in years to come.
Lastly, I think its important to keep the identity you had before you became a mother and sometimes that’s hard if all you talk about is what soft play centres are the cleanest, the colour and consistency of your children’s poo and what brand of nappies contain it the best.
Love Carly (aka Mummy)