After a planes, trains and automobiles style journey to The Royal Albert Hall (because of course, it was the one and only night it decided to snow which meant the trains went up the spout) Me and the Mr arrived late, somewhat stressed and ready for a glass of wine. Which saw dry January go out of the window. Oh well, when needs must! As we settled into our seats I wasn’t too sure what to expect from Amaluna, my first Cirque Du Soleil show. The Mr had been to one in Vegas and described it to me as, ‘a bit like a posh circus’. So could I expect cannon firing and tight-rope walking? Well, not quite but essentially, a ‘posh circus’ is a good description of what Cirque Du Soleil is. But as I soon saw for myself, there is much more to it than this.
I stumbled upon the term Secondary Infertility during one of my many Google searches last year. The phrase empowered me somewhat, because suddenly what I was experiencing had a name! This was good, it meant I could find a resolution and get to the bottom of things. But, it hasn’t been so. I didn’t think my husband and I would be that couple who’d have problems getting pregnant second time round, that happens to other people right? That wouldn’t happen to us? But here we are, a year and a half down the line and still no baby joy. After having a really early miscarriage in December 2015, I’m now experiencing what is known as ‘Secondary infertility’ (SI). Doctors describe it as, ‘the inability to conceive or carry to term a second or subsequent child’ and SI now accounts for six out of 10 infertility cases. The reasons could be a number of factors, but experts say it might be because women are having babies later in life, they’re stressed and tired already with their first child or from work, there might be a hormonal imbalance after their first pregnancy or there might be an underlying medical cause. In my case, there is no set explanation, there’s nothing physically wrong, things quite simply just aren’t happening.
Hello there. How is everyone? Did everyone survive Christmas unscathed? I did, just about although I’ve come out the other side another year older and the kid was sick on, yep you guessed it, Christmas Day, so that was fun. These things pick their moments don’t they *rolls-eyes*. Because of the eternal coughing, throat clearing and nose blowing that’s been taking place, I’ve not really felt in the mood for writing and having a break from it all at this time of year is rather nice. But, on the eve of what is a New Year, it seemed appropriate to stick some words down, for my own benefit really.
Being a mum is a whole load of swings and roundabouts emotions. It’s a constant up and down from the moment you have your baby. A lot of people suddenly have an opinion once you become a parent. It’s like the world now has the right to chip in about how you adult your children. And what with being judged, there’s also us judging ourselves. With Social Media now there’s a lot to compare ourselves too. You can’t but help look at that ridiculously smiley, perfectly edited family on Instagram and wish your child would just bloody well sit still for a photo, wearing those hilarious comedy glasses you bought. Social Media can at times make us think that our lives aren’t pastel enough, colourful enough, or fun enough!! Argh!! You can also (without meaning to) spend a lot of time comparing yourselves to other mums that you meet, at playgroups, softplay or at the school gates. This post is about not being that mum who seems to have it all.
I don’t know about you but I feel like I’ve had a hectic few weeks despite not really doing anything. It’s this time of year I think, everything seems to come to a head at the end of twelve long months. We’ve had coughs, colds, teething, sleepless nights, fertility drugs side effects and slow realisations that I’m going to be thirty eight in less than two weeks (sobs into wine). The kid has had permanent snot face since she started nursery in September (the joy of shared germs) And teething hit her hard a few weeks ago. This lead to a stint of interrupted sleep, traipsing the corridor back and forth in the small hours between her room and ours, running on mumbie mode (zombie mum). Everything then came to a head and I found myself weeping down the phone to my mum, wine in hand. To help me get out of this funk, I’ve reverted back to a few simple things, that help me relax. To get me feeling more ‘me’ again.