Lost

Part of the shock from having a new baby is that suddenly you go from being well, you, to 'Mum'. No one can remember your name except from the bills company and unless you are attached to your new bundle, people seem to seldom recognise and acknowledge you. Of course, part of this is lovely. There is a certain inner glow that comes everytime someone says "So-and-so's mummy" and you think, yes! Me! I am so-and-so's mummy! After all it is such an important job, why wouldn't you want to tell the world? But somewhere along the line, there are days when it grates on you. Days when you think that it would be nice if just once someone at least pretended they knew your name once. And then comes the guilt. Why would you want to do or be anything that is not 100% mummy?

Personally I think this guilt is nothing more than a reaction. Wanting something for yourself does not mean you are neglecting your child, as long as you are not dropping their care. Wanting to reclaim some of your personality or maybe even a hobby (there is more to life than folding tiny socks...? Really?) or a social life does not mean you are trying to shake off being a parent. I think a good parent is one who has a healthy sense of self; if you heap everything onto your child that is suddenly a lot of expectations for that child and at worst, a chance resentment might build up. of course we all have periods where this comes and goes, circumstances, mood and even mental health fluctuate. We cannot be perfect, or striving to be sort-of-perfect all the time.

For myself, having gone through difficult periods of neonatal and a sick child, I am beginning to feel this even more keenly. I don't want these times and grief to describe me or settle my identity. As a single parent, I want to be a strong person and a good mum. I want this blip in coping I am having to be nothing more than a blip. In these times, Wriggles become like a benevolent force or shield, saving me from seeking deeper. She is the reason that when I feel bleak that I do not feel like contemplating removing myself forcibly from the equation. She is like a rock in a turbulent sea to cling onto. I feel naked without her, like I am exposed and that there is nothing to look back to. She is undoubtedly the most important thing, but I want to be able to claw myself back without relying on her alone. I will always do it for her, but I need to have a stronger sense of self again. I know it is in there, just hiding. A bit lost. I am primarily Wriggles' Mama but I am also a young woman who has a range of interests, passions and dislikes. I don't believe that finding other things equates to losing some of her care or giving up some love, more that it stretches things to include more. Yes, I am changed since our experiences but this is time to stop just dwelling and start doing. I owe it to my daughter and I owe it to myself. I want to stop saying the right things and start doing the right things. Whatever they are...

 

Eyes

 "She talks with her eyes."

So many people have said this to me. And it is so true. You may not yet be verbal but my goodness you are expressive. Your large and beautiful eyes are like a window to yourself. I could stare into them all day as if I had all the time in the world and not a care.

When I was lost for words when you were in Special Care I would stare endlessly into them, pure and utter jet black, newly opened, trying to decipher your face and thoughts. The premature and new infant can only see 6-8 inches infront of them and may not recognise you instantly if you change your appearance. They see black and white. I held you close and peered practically nose against the incubator doors.

When you first began to smile in the beginning of January 2011 it felt like my world began to glow that little bit more. It seemed like I had passed the test. You recognised me and I knew it, really knew it.

The very worst time was when you were 7 months old in Intensive Care and unconcious. Not being able to look into your eyes and see them dart about and drink everything in made it seem like I had lost my baby. The only thing that reassured me I still had you was the monitering screen which recorded your vital signs. You were passive and still, like a doll. When you regained conciousness and drowsily, confused opened them again there was colour and meaning to my life once more and a happiness I did not think possible. It was the visible sign that recovery was happening. 


Your eyes are like mine, I think. They have the colouring of your Great-Grandma but look like mine and your aunt's. One is always that little bit more open and wider than the other, a slightly sqwiffy glint! Yours are always so eager, so bright and full of energy. They are piercing and make my heart skip a beat everytime I look into them.  

They also often have bags underneath them as you dislike napping in the day, adament not to miss a second of the life you love! But I promise, you won't miss a thing. I'll make sure the best bits are still there waiting for you. 

One of my favourite things is to have you snuggled up with me in my bed on lazy weekend mornings so we can come-to together, nose to nose. There is nothing better than to wake up than a pair of bright, cheeky eyes filling your vision as if to say "Come on! Hurry up! There's a whole new day ahead!" as you poke out my eyes. But I'll forgive you. This time.