Breakthrough with extra ice cream

This weekend something amazing happened.

We were invited to a birthday party.

Now, this might be an everyday occurrence for many mums. But I have been spectacularly rubbish at making and keeping mum friends, my depression and anxiety cutting all ties with rationality and sending my confidence and voice deep down into a pit of despair, cutting off the sunlight. I would shrink from other mums, like a vampire from the dawn. Not at all because I didn't want to be their friend, quite the opposite, but because I would just panic. Why would they want to be my friend? I kept trying to go to baby groups, I would make myself because if nothing else my darling Wriggles has always been quite partial to "borrowing" other babies rattles and charming stranger's grannies. I don't know quite what has happened but somehow things turned a corner and bit by bit I began to talk properly to the other mums and remember their names and stop my jaw dropping the floor if they remembered mine (or at least Wriggles'-it's practically the same thing once you give birth). Then I plucked up the courage to accept invites to coffee and this week, exchanged phone numbers with not one, not two but three, yes THREE mums. And received a party invitation for my troubles.

After this feat of brilliance, I seized the day yesterday and went small-person-affordable-gift-shopping. I wrote (on behalf of Wriggles) a card and sealed the envelope in the hope that if I wanted to chicken out I might reason that that would mean a wasted card. This morning I wrapped up a copy of What The Ladybird Who Heard whilst fending off an energetic Wriggles who wanted to eat the sellotape, and tried to find a pair of leggings that didn't have any food down: a near impossible task. For someone that barely eats, all her clothes are covered in bizarre stains and trodden in crumbs.

As the time drew near I ummed and ahhhed. I felt nervous and began to look for excuses. I could see the opportunity slipping away and in a rare fit of decisiveness, grabbed the A-Z and tried to locate the party location. It was less than 10 minutes walk away. The sun had come out. I was running out of excuses. Wriggles had found a shiny box and was pacified. As long as she was still allowed to hold the box, she was happy to put her coat on. Now I had no excuse. Before the moment was gone, we left. As I walked along the road, thoughts niggled at my brain. Was I going to be the only unmarried one? Were their husbands going to be terrifying? I don't even know why these felt important things. I think the one of the hard things about mental health wobbles are the feelings of inadequacy it cloaks you in. I often have felt conscious of being babyfaced and a single parent and worry that it isolates me. In reality, it doesn't or at least hasn't so far. I have been pleasantly surprised that no ones gives two hoots if your house is magazine-perfect (mine isn't for the record, it is a scruffy flat) or Mr Darcy brings you breakfast in bed. Probably as so many mothers are battling through sleepless nights and chasing around after mad toddlers to rub together enough brain cells to care. It is so easy to forget the two things that unite most parents are their children and the helpless desperation to Get It Right whilst doubt and guilt gnaw at you every time CBeebies is switched on. 

The worries were all unfounded. We had a truly lovely afternoon, the babies all played (relatively) nicely and everyone was so friendly. I hope these are the beginnings of real friendships; even if they are not, I can't think of many ways better to spend a weekend that in the company of some Good Eggs especially when you get two types of cake and ice cream at the end.

Walking back home at 7pm (if you're going to party, you need to do it properly. I'm installing this in Wriggles from an early age) in the golden fading sun, I felt euphoric. It is such a small thing, but for me, such a big step. It felt like I had broke through a fog holding me back and hiding me from the world I crave to be part of, that I should belong to. It made me so happy to feel like I was grabbing life with both hands and loving it, rather than living in bad memories. 

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...