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A first time mum at 39, trying not to let my son kill me off too soon. Busy juggling a new family, a new house and a tricky recording schedule I figured blogging would be less expensive than therapy and less embarrassing than shouting at rude and stupid people in the street/on trains/at the supermarket.

Thursday, 13 September 2012

One month later

It got  better. 

Well it had to really otherwise I may have thrown myself from a bridge.  I had a meltdown - it was pretty bad.  Completely lost it at my husband.   On that particular day I was hot, bothered, exhausted and covered in baby sick.  Boychild had been screaming all day and I just felt as though my life was over.  

5 months ago I was juggling a £1M budget and booking some of the best musicians in the world and now I was looking like shite wearing clothes my mother wouldn't be seen dead in (too fat for regular clothes and too thin for my maternity clothes), spending hours trying to clean the flat but not able too as my child wouldn't sleep for long enough (or allow me to put him down) so fed up of living in a pigsty, constantly washing bottles and trying desperately to keep my milk supply up (after the abominable mess made of breastfeeding caused partly by the midwives and partly by the bureaucratic arses at Kings College Hospital - another long story for another time) and having absolutely no life whatsoever as that would only be achievable with some energy - something I was clearly lacking.

Husband listened.  He didn't really understand and thought I was criticising him (I wasn't)  but he knew I was close to breaking point.

I stopped trying to be superwoman and also gave up fighting the losing battle of my own milk.  Husband therefore could do some of the night feeds.  He now does Friday and Saturday night feeds - I can't expect him to get up at 3am during the week when he has to go to work, I'm not that unreasonable.  I've still only been out alone 3 times but I can live with it.  2 on Friday nights so that hubby can do the feed and I can sleep and once to a Pilates class.  It's a vague hope of trying to get back my pre-baby bod and shake off the backache!

I also have given up being bothered about Freddie crying when we're out.  He needs to get used to it as needs must and one must shop occasionally!  Now I'm more relaxed, then he is too. I always knew that would happen but it's very tricky to implement when one is completely shattered. 

He still won't nap much  - 30 minute bursts  - but now he's older he will sit in his chair for a short while and watch me in the kitchen so I can at least clean all his bottles and prepare his feeds.

This morning he slept for 90 minutes whilst I attended a mum and baby fitness class - Pushy Mothers.  He loved it and I can barely move.  Lord, the last time I ached that much I had been beasted by a personal trainer in preparation for my wedding!  And that time, I got to come home, have a bath and cry quietly in the corner.  Today I had to come home, wash my sweaty face and change my t-shirt and carry on with looking after Baby Boy.   I must stink!  But I am so proud of my little one - he clearly loves being out in the fresh air and has absolutely no interest in watching me exercise!

Basically, what I'm trying to say is that he has got better - it's not perfect and I'm still not getting anywhere near enough sleep, but I can live like this and not feel like a total failure.  I'm even beginning to get quite sad about having to go back to work - something I never thought I would say.  People change I guess.