Wednesday, June 20


Of late, I haven't been blogging so much. Or rather, I haven't been posting as much. I have started writing most nights, but either words or paragraphs in, something pulls me back and I press delete or mark it in my drafts folder, which realistically never comes out again. It's not that anything particular has happened or gone wrong, I've just felt a bit "meh". After my month off work, I felt so much more settled and on top of the world. Since returning to work and accepting redundancy, I have been, to put it politely, all over the place and a bit sorry for myself. Partly, a parade of bugs that are never quite bad enough to keep either of us at home hasn't helped and neither has Wriggles' sudden toddlerdom of tantrum throwing or sleep regression!

When I started this blog, after reading others that either amused or inspired me, it was for me to use both as therapy to get over the bad memories and to make good memories. When it started, Wriggles barely ate and we had spent about four months constantly in and out of hospital between which I would go to work...only to be in hospital with Wriggles the day after or sometimes, hours. However, things were showing signs of improvement and I was hopeful that our journey might be looking more straightforward. Quite quickly, it became apparent this wasn't too be the case. Although things have been up and down since coming out of NICU, I've always been very aware how things could be more complex, more limiting. But a small part of me, the regular mum bit, not just the ex-neonatal-mum, has also been aware how much simpler things could have been.
And I think, coupled with bad memories and the depression that followed on, this has been what I have struggled with. Of course I accept it and will do anything in a heartbeat for my daughter; there is absolutely no question about that. It's not that I wish it different exactly, I just didn't perhaps anticipate how much nearly 2 years down the line we would be involved with medical professionals. I thought or at least hoped we would be one of those that pick themselves off and dust themselves up and carry on with milestones. I don't mind at all that Wriggles is taking things at her own pace. I love her to the ends of the earth, she will always be the cleverest girl in my world. 
But sometimes I struggle when we see other families who don't know any of my torment, my struggle with grief and then guilt because actually, we have a pretty good life. Sometimes, just sometimes, I'd like to kick my feet and shout "it's not fair!" and not feel that I was having a whinge.
So, if you'll excuse me....

"It's not fair!"

All better now!


  1. Do you mind if I join you?


    Thank you. Great blog btw, I've lurked here since having my 25 weeker last year. I like that you seem to find the subtle humour in tragedy. I hope that in many years from now, hospitals will be a dim, dark memory for both of us.

    1. Please do join in...I especially welcome foot stompers!

      Here's to distant memories :)