parenting

I remember

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I remember my alarm going off at 5.30am like we were getting up to go on holiday. But we weren’t. We were getting up to go and have a baby.

I remember sitting in the hospital waiting room and the midwife coming to say we were first on the list and we’d be going down to theatre soon. That c-section we’d talked about, it was going to be happening soon.

I remember going onto the ward and putting on a gown and compression stockings and Leon getting into scrubs. We took a selfie. We look terrified.

I remember walking down to theatre and entering a room filled with strangers and implements and bright lights. I remember remembering to be brave.

I remember placing my trust and my heart into the hands of an anaesthetist I’d just met. I remember she was nothing but amazing throughout.

I remember what it feels like to park your phobias at the door – of needles, of incisions, of surgery – in the spirit of the greater good. Our baby.

I remember having a catheter inserted and realising that when I thought the upside of having to have the baby this way was that there’d be fewer opportunities for me to lose my dignity, I was wrong.

I remember losing all feeling from the chest down. I remember panicking. I remember calming down. I remember hearing “You’re doing really well, Charlotte” again and again and needing to hear it. Needing to be the child in the room for just a few minutes more.

I remember a sheet going up and it starting.

I remember suddenly chilling right out. I remember making jokes, people laughing. They weren’t funny I’m sure, but when a woman with her bikini line cut open makes a joke YOU LAUGH.

I remember feeling some pushing and some pulling and being absolutely able to handle it. I was doing this. Somehow I was letting this happen.

I remember that I’d almost forgotten what this whole procedure was for until the anaesthetist said “I can see a foot”.

I remember nothing and then everything. Time stopping and then speeding by. I heard “You’ve got to see this,” the sheet came down and our baby was there in front of us. A girl, they said, you’ve got a baby girl.

I remember that we laughed. A deranged, euphoric, overwhelmed guffaw at the sight of our giant, gooey, bright pink and white baby daughter, shattering our hearts with her very first cry.

I remember her disappearing out of sight and calling “Mummy’s here” as she shrieked from the scales. Mummy. Because that’s my name now.

I remember the moment she was placed into my arms, the softest, most precious bundle I’ve ever held.

I remember her looking straight at me, with these enormous, beautiful eyes that I couldn’t believe the two of us had made.

I remember looking at Leon and the world feeling smaller than ever before. There’s just three of us in it now. That’s it.

I remember the moment our lives changed forever.

What does ‘ready’ mean anyway?

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“So, are you ready?”

Whatever milestone we’re approaching, that’s the question we always ask each other. Whether we’re moving house, starting a new job, getting married, or, in my current case, preparing to have a baby.

I do it too, but thinking about it, I’m not really sure what we mean when we ask this question.

Because, other than logistically, how could we possibly be truly ready for life changes this significant? Can you see into the future? Because I certainly can’t.

I’ve come to the conclusion that, due to our lack of telepathic ability as human beings, ‘ready’ isn’t really achievable. So I’m going to stop striving for it.

Sure, I’ve bought some teeny tiny baby clothes, a pack of wipes and an array of nappies, but I’m not fooling myself into thinking that makes me ready. It just means I’ll (hopefully) avoid total embarrassment at the hospital.

I’ve been carrying this small person around in my body for over eight months now and I still can’t imagine what life’s going to be like when they’re out. I know that they will come out at some point and MAN is my pelvis looking forward to a break, but the image of what parenting will look like remains ever so hazy.

But don’t worry. Because although I can’t tell you that I’m ready for what’s to come, what I can offer is my absolute openness to this situation. That might not sound very romantic but, actually, I can’t think of anything more important.

I’m sitting here struggling to reach my laptop because of the huge bump currently housing our child, knowing that I want them in our lives more than anything. When I imagine what it’ll be like to meet our son or daughter and to hold them for the first time I’m unable to hold back the tears; I’m beside myself. It’s just all too huge and emotional for me to feel fully prepared for it. But I’m seriously game, and hoping that will get me through.

Life is all about trying to achieve the unachievable. Our conversations are filled with questions for each other that we know full well we couldn’t answer ourselves. But it tends to come from a good place. What we’re doing is voicing the fears we know we’d have when approaching a big change, and trying to reassure each other that everything will be OK.

Nobody ever knows what’s going to happen. That’s the risk we take when we do anything. With every day that’s passed since we found out I was pregnant, I’ve become more acutely aware of the risk we’re taking with our hearts by doing this. But I still wouldn’t change it. I’ve just had to give myself permission to try and acknowledge the enormity of it, and that that in itself is why it’s not possible to ever really feel ready.

I’ve never had my eyes so open and yet felt so blind. But I’m here and open to what’s to come, so let’s get to it. As far as I can see, that’s the best any of us can offer when stepping into the unknown.

8 thoughts it’s totally normal to have when you’re pregnant (I hope)

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8 thoughts it's totally normal to have whilst pregnant (I hope)“Oh my goodness, WHAT HAVE WE DONE”

There isn’t a bone in my body that isn’t happy that I’m pregnant (except perhaps the ones in my poor, squashed pelvis). But that doesn’t stop me feeling a bit panicked about the effect this decision will have on our life. So many of the things we can currently just do – go for dinner, bugger off on holiday, dance into the night at 28 weddings a year – are going to be either off the table or a much more complex process.

Parenthood will undoubtedly bring a world of joy and discovery like we’ve never known before too, and I can’t wait. But you’re still allowed to have moments to think “WOAH WE DID NOT FULL CONSIDER THE IMPACT THIS WOULD HAVE ON OUR KNOWLEDGE OF COOL EATERIES,” too, I feel.

“It would be great if I could just not be pregnant for this hour/day/moment”

I am incredibly happy to be pregnant and grateful for the opportunity to have a child. That being said, the total takeover of your body is no small deal. Heartburn is a daily occurrence. My back hates me. My lower regions sometimes feel like they’re all just going to fall out. So it’s a bit tough and therefore inevitable that every now and then you wish you could have a brief break. That you had the option to pop your tummy and the baby down somewhere safe while you do the big shop or mop the floor without getting puffed out.

It’s worth every second of discomfort, of course, but it’s also OK to wish for the occasional bit of time off.

“What if my child thinks I’m a loser?”

I’m not scared that my baby won’t think I’m cool, I know they won’t think I’m cool. That’s the deal when you’re a parent, as I understand it. I just keep wondering what they’ll think about what I’ve done with my life. I have a terrifying vision of them being asked what their mother does and them saying “Well, she dicks about on the internet and talks a lot about writing, but I’m not sure if she’s really ever done anything.”

Every milestone makes us feel the need to assess whether we’ve lived a worthwhile life, so I guess it’s inevitable that pregnancy would do the same thing.

“But… we have absolutely no idea what we’re doing”

We didn’t have to take an exam to establish our abilities to look after another human being. We were free to get pregnant and then deal with the consequences. And it dawns on me a good few times a day – particularly at night when I’m definitely at my most rational – that we have absolutely no idea what we’re doing. If parenting was just cuddles and saying “HELLO SAUSAGE!” into a baby’s face every few minutes, we’d have it nailed, but I hear there’s more to it than that.

Everybody I’ve spoken to about this says that everyone feels the same way, which is reassuring. Perhaps if every parent wore a badge that said “I am making all of this up as I go along” we’d all feel better.

8 thoughts it's totally normal to have when you're pregnant (I hope)“If I’m not careful, one of these days I’m just going to wet myself”

Our baby can now put more pressure on my bladder than I’m comfortable with. With one kick or punch, they’re able to test my pelvic floor more than any yoga or pilates class ever could. He or she enjoys challenging me at the most inconvenient times – in the middle of wedding ceremonies, in meetings, during my commute. I’ve managed to stay on top of it so far, but the risk of a sudden damp incident has never been so real.

“Perhaps it won’t hurt that much after all?”

At prenatal yoga, the teacher gets us into positions that’ll be particularly ‘helpful’ when giving birth. The problem is, I’m in such denial about ever having to give birth that I tell myself this doesn’t really apply to me. I know the baby’s in there – the sight of my slowly expanding stomach is a handy reminder – but their exit isn’t something I’ve faced up to yet.

I think it’s human nature when faced with a major feat to either catastrophise or naively assume it’ll be OK. And although I do not believe for a second that it’ll be anything other than the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced, I can’t face that thought yet. Not properly. So, to help protect me from the truth, my brain keeps suggesting that maybe it’ll be all right. You know, not as bad as EVERY SINGLE WOMAN IN THE WORLD says.

Could happen, guys. Could happen.

“Life would be so much easier if it was socially acceptable to just make whatever noise you need to, when you need to”

I can no longer put on shoes, sit in a chair, get out of bed, or lift anything whatsoever without groaning. My chest and throat are home to such levels of acid reflux that I could burp or hiccup or both at any moment. And what pregnancy does to an already fragile digestive system, well, let’s just say, it doesn’t make it more predictable.

So, for those of us juggling a world of unexpected occurrences within our bodies, life would be a lot simpler if we could just let all the sounds happen, without fear of funny looks/social exclusion. But alas, we do not live in such a society, so I save as many groans and throat-based surprises as I can for the comfort of my own home.

“I just don’t want to let anybody down”

Although you know you’re not doing it on your own, there’s no denying that physically being pregnant is very much a one person job. So it’s normal to feel the weight of that responsibility. And with that comes a fear that you’re somehow going to ‘do it wrong’ or let people down.

There’s only so much you can control, of course. You can look after yourself, read all the advice, and ask for help when you need it. But you’re just going to have to take it day by day and expect the unexpected.

Nonetheless, it’s only normal to be afraid and it’s healthy to admit how you feel. Acknowledging that something this life changing puts as much pressure on your mind as it does your womb can only help to make us all feel less alone.