Some memories from Alder's first month

In a year

This time last year I did not imagine I would see in this New Year breastfeeding a newborn again.

At times last year was unbearable. And yet we bore it. We couldn't take one more step and yet we did.

This year we already have some sparkle back. This, this is everything. Yes, he was a hundred times worth it. (And yes, never again!)

How the light gets in

It's Christmas day and I'm holding my newborn son, warm in his blue sunflower romper, and I'm thinking of Polly.

I've been thinking of her a lot over the last few months; one of the few people who really know the hell of hyperemesis and the crushing darkness it can bring to a time with so many expectations of joy and lightness. I have been lucky, so so lucky, that the moment Alder arrived I felt that rush of relief and the whole ten months faded instantly. The midwife who had been trying to coax me to drink sent Rowan running for a cup of water and I drained it in one and said, "it tastes like water!" The past two weeks have been all the lightness and joy I could have wished for, in spite of everything. I'm still crying allll the time but it's relief and happiness. I wish I could share this with Polly. She'd cry for me, too.

When I bought the sunflower sleepsuit months ago I thought of Pol. I knew I'd think of her every time I dressed my baby in it. Clung to that sunshine, light through darkness, she'll be remembered with sunshine, this long long grieving pregnancy will end with light.

I have food poisoning. I spent part of my Christmas afternoon being sick. And part of it talking to a suicidal stranger on a comments thread. I have no idea if she's still with us and I might never know. I told her although we're strangers, we're sisters, and I meant it fiercely. Holding my newborn son, remembering a dear friend for whom nobody could hold it all together no matter how much we loved her. We never really know for sure if the love we send is received, if it helps. We love anyway.

Love and loss and pain and fierce joy. The sounds of my children arguing, giggling, eating all the food. Morgan brought me a plate of crackers upstairs so I didn't attempt to sleep on an empty stomach. This was not the Christmas I planned, or the update I planned to write, and yet here it is. Imperfect. How the light gets in.

A month, feeling heart-achey and exhausted

1: Window sill

2: Rosliston

3: Baby Loss wave of light candle

4: Huge pouty face for the dry arms

5: Gritty floor, mama's journal

Another whole month and I have barely taken any more photographs than this. When I created a new blog space for myself it was with the feeling that I wanted to journal my own creative explorations more, start finding the courage to post my poetry and art, begin to accept and enjoy the lovely and liberating aspects of moving out of the baby phase of family life.

I feel like I've spent seven months using a series of placeholders to chart an ongoing feeling of panic and disbelief. I wanted another baby. I chose this. But I didn't *expect* it, and every part of it. Impossible, exhausting beyond anything I've ever done, a series of "life spiralling out of the familiar and safe". Hyperemesis whilst attempting to keep a creative business alive, home educate four children, and not give way to the lurking depths of depression and anxiety which I'd so thoroughly shaken off before this awful sickness. This isn't what I expected to be writing about. Feeling. Experiencing. 

I'm tired of my own misery, bored of trying to articulate it, sick of trying to justify it, worn down by trying to minimise it.

Where the hell has this year gone? It feels right now like so much failure and wasted time. I feel like I should be feeling strong, prepared, grateful, any number of things other than sad. I wanted a better year for my children. I wanted a better "one last" pregnancy for everyone. I wanted to approach birth feeling optimistic and joyful.

Just a little longer.

Getting there

1: Rowan, play area, bee shorts
2: Blessing the wriggly creature, and mothering the mother
3: Jenna, woodland, baby Torin
4: Henna fading, new pyjamas
5: Morgan with a pancake sandwich because reasons
6: Talia and F chalking their names in town

The midwife is still telling me off for losing weight, though I do honestly feel the hyperemesis is improving now (albeit still really tiring and emotionally draining). Martin is gradually recovering too, and we're finally able to leave the house a little more. It has been a seriously strange few weeks really! We've had a heck of a lot of help getting through it, and of course I have cried a fair bit about not deserving these beautiful people who show up time and time again. Smallest human is mainly head down now, and I am finally starting to feel like I can survive another two months.

Another month on

1: Accidentally coordinating outfits.
2: Making paints with berries and flowers.
3: Cat love. (Yes, Morgan is obsessed with those dungarees.)
4: We *could* be making bird feeders. Orrr, the peanut butter is nice for sticky sensory play...
5: Gloop, arts festival with friends.
6: Painting in the Silk Mill.
7: Birthday arcade.
8: Bunny child loves sweetcorn.
9: Gorse, heather, bump.
10: View from the sofa, on another day when I just couldn't.
11: Leaf.

(Still here. Still hanging on by a thread. Martin has had his hernia surgery and is slowly slowly in less pain. I am pretty low on coping, but trying to find the bright moments.)

Almost a month in not very many pictures

1: Dinner at my mum's house, giggling
2: Pot painting
3: Cookie dough
4: Stickers and babysitting
5: Some of Rowan's beach collection
6: Park climbing
7: Blue hair, blue tunic, blue icecream at the board game cafe
8: Jenna entertaining Talia, in between a week away at camp and another week away in Estonia (she's having all the adventures)
9: Talia has been taking Milly the Monster out for walks, taking very seriously Jenna's parting instruction to look after her toys for her while she's away
10: Muddy community garden play

(Mainly I am sick and exhausted. Mainly I am not coping with everyday life. I don't really know what else to say, except that I'm very glad of all the people doing things with the children and looking after us.)

May catch-up: the worst of it

I spent May throwing up, crying, falling asleep on the sofa, doing really simple crafts to occupy the children, and getting to grips with taking meds during pregnancy. The medication that worked well only continued to work well if I took it on time, getting my prescription re-filled wasn't as simple as I thought it would be, and just not throwing up every meal and every glass of water felt pretty damn wonderful actually. I'm getting there, honestly. But May was mostly hard work interspersed with sunshine.