When I began this blog, I had high expectations of upbeat stories of adventures I had been on or funny anecdotes to tell. The reality is, the whole past year has basically been one fat slob fest for me. I’m starting to liken myself to a potato.
I’m now what one would call “between jobs” …again. I decided that the travel industry just wasn’t quite doing it for me anymore. The vibe got me turning that frown upside down so I began my favourite hobby of job searching. Does anybody else have a similar hobby? I also enjoy logging on to Rightmove and giving myself a pretend budget of £500k to buy a posh house. Sometimes I’ll even go to London to ‘rent’ extortionately expensive apartments no bigger than my maternity pants. This isn’t even Lockdown induced behaviour by the way.
My newest employment within an Electric and Plumbers company local to me has the hours any mum could only dream of. Every week the SAME three shifts. Tues, Weds, Thurs.. from 9am-3pm. A dream literally made to fit around the school run in which yes, my daughter will become a part of again as I unashamedly got on the phone to them as soon as I got offered the job. I’ve had numerous jobs but this felt a step in the right direction. I can now work and run my university course alongside on a Monday and Friday giving me the whole weekend to nag, cry and moan to my other half to my heart’s content.
The problem I’m currently having is that I’ve got to actually get off my arse? No, really its currently a genuine problem. I’ve fallen victim to lazy parenting, lazy tidying, cooking and cleaning and now I can rarely be arsed to even fart. I used to punish myself for sitting and relaxing, it never felt right and now I can’t get enough! I’ve watched all these programmes basically non stop for the last three weeks. All of which I HIGHLY recommend.
The Office (UK)
RuPaul’s drag race ALL 160 episodes of.
ITV’s “The Bay”
the Crown. (Man, that’s long)
I’ve also fully immersed myself into podcasts whilst cleaning (well, attempting to) but one I must mention is ‘Morbid’ which basically is quite self explanatory and I would recommend if you enjoy light hearted true crime and Ghost stories. The girls who do this podcast have me actually LOLLING out loud.
I do wonder when all this madness will end but I wonder more if we will suddenly miss the isolation lifestyle?
FINAL THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Today, I was putting some washing away and realized that I no longer have a t-shirt drawer? I have two pyjama and “loungewear” drawers? I honestly can’t remember the day that this happened but it felt like a pinnacle moment of my life. Another pinnacle was that I IRONED, yes IRONED three sets of flannel pyjamas yesterday? Please judge because I sure am.
Its been a while since I last wrote. I suppose a lot of it is because I’ve been having some down time to heal from the miscarriage alongside dealing with ANOTHER lockdown with my daughter at home as somebody in her year at school caught Covid.
But this post is in full devotion to a special boy in my life who I met in 2008.
At the time, had been having a bit of a tough part in my life with my moods out of control whilst living at my mums and the newest solution for me to “get over it” was to move to a whole new location to try a new start. As my dad had moved to Scarborough quite some time earlier, he had kindly offered to take me in. I was really grateful however I barely had any kind of a relationship with my dad only seeing him on the odd weekend since being a child. I remember it was quite an awkward time for a while, we awkwardly shuffled around each other not really knowing much about each others routine around the house. I think we both subconsciously were praying for a bit of a distraction.. que Billy.
I remember the first time I ever set eyes on Billy. My dad and I had visited a rescue home out in the sticks near to Whitby, I can never remember the name of the place I just remember it was somewhere near to where the ITV drama “Heartbeat” was once filmed! The noise in the kennels was deafening but one bark sounded more desperate than the others, more scared and I was drawn into it. There he was, a little shadow in the corner barking his head of, he had the head of an German Shepherd and body of a corgi! But even though he wasn’t the most attractive dog in there that day I instantly felt a bond and we took him home as the best distraction tool ever known.
To cut a long story short, alot of stuff happened in between then and now with billy being with me through thick and thin, various house moves and alot of emotional trauma but also some great times too. After a few years, I had to move into a one bed flat meaning Billy couldnt come so he ended up getting adopted by my mum! He lived with my mum up until yesterday when his old age finally got the better of him.
Its strange as Billy was around for such a long time that I almost put him to the back of my mind. He was like a part of the furniture at my mums. But he always came up with his wagging tail to greet you no matter how stiff his joints were or if he could even see you through his cataracts. Towards the end, I think we all were expecting Billy to go but he outlived everyone’s expectations to a grand old age of almost 20! but for some reason it still seems to be hitting me harder than I expected. I think it got me thinking of all those years ago when we rescued him and it actually made me think that at the time, he rescued me.
Dogs are emotional creatures and I think the bond you create with them can be unbreakable. I get really annoyed when people use the phrase “Its just a pet” because they aren’t just a pet. They are possibly the most loving part of our family.
If you have already read some of my previous posts you’ll know that I was considering whether or not to have a second child and the consequences that came with that, especially the mental wellbeing consequences.
Well, I did decide to take the leap and let things happen because remember, I’m a great believer in everything happens for a reason right?! Sadly it would appear the gods aren’t in favour this time of my decision.
Miscarriage – My own experience with a Blighted Ovum.
I just want to start by saying until something like miscarriage happens to you its so hard to visualize just how traumatic it can be. We all know the statistics and how common it is to suffer miscarriage especially in the early days however, I for one never really sat and thought about it. Don’t get me wrong I’ve always had huge empathy for those around me that have gone through it but nobody actually tells you HOW much of a long, messy, emotionally tiring and not to mention painful time it can be.
I’m still quite raw as mine has just happened in the last couple of weeks which is why I wanted to write about it now. To catch the emotions and hopefully help me heal and move on. Writing has always been good at helping me.
I had gone along for my first scan (12 week) last Tuesday alone as due to the covid rules partners sill aren’t allowed to come (I’ll try not to lose my rag over that situation) I didn’t mind as I thought I could video call him whilst inside if there was much to see. That idea went straight out the window as I entered the cubicle to be greeted by a very short and stern looking sonographer. “phones switched off in here please” she said. Although slightly disappointed I put my phone in my bag and got prepared on the bed.
After about 5 minutes of prodding and poking but no words the lady then asked me to go for a wee as she would need to do a trans-vaginal ultrasound (and yes, it is as bad as it sounds) I asked if there was a problem and why couldnt I see much on the screen but she turned the screen away and said she just needed a better look as I could be slightly earlier than we expected. I went to the toilet with a really bad feeling. I knew then something wasnt right but returned to the room with a smile on my face so not to look silly if everything was actaully ok!
On the screen I stared at the black hole on the screen. A black hole with nothing visible inside. No yolk, no fetal pole …nothing. To be honest i knew then that this was not going to be a successful pregnancy but to follow protocol the sonographer explained I would need to go for some blood tests to see what’s happening. I played along.
I had blood tests every 48 hours which kept consistently showing that my levels were high enough to be carrying a foetus…somewhere! Just not where it was meant to be. The stress of limbo and the unknown took its toll on me and by the Saturday my blood pressure had gone through the roof and I had started getting bad cramping. I stayed in hospital all day waiting for the doctor to tell me whether or not he thought I was experiencing an ectopic pregnancy (foetus grows in fallopian tube) I knew this to be dangerous which added to my stress. I begged to go home to be with my partner. He had waited in the car for the whole thing. Not being able to be a part of it or grieve himself, not being able to console me when I cried and not even being able to listen to the doctors when I had zoned out (thanks a fucking bunch Boris..happy thoughts..happy thoughts…) That night in bed I thought I was dying! I was bleeding and cramping and crying and almost passing out with the pain. It felt like actual labour. I called the ward I had been on that day and they explained I was most definitely experiencing a miscarriage (yeah, no shit sherlock)
To be honest it was a relief. Not because my pregnancy was failing but because I’d had enough and I wanted it all to be over. After everything, the most likely diagnosis for the loss was something called a ‘Blighted ovum’ (see description below) My body had thought it was still pregnant even weeks after the egg had stopped growing. This made me feel strangely embarrassed. I felt awful that I had been telling every Tom, Dick and Harry my news even when I technically had no news to tell. It was also a harder pill to swallow as I had got myself over excited to the point I was googling baby names and planning the baby’s room. Silly me. I have had to spend the past few days re-texting those people telling them I’m actually not pregnant now. That in itself has been pretty rough.
Its clear to me now that I really did want another baby and the last two weeks have honestly been nothing less than hell. I had all the pregnancy symptoms and stopped all the bad habits i.e. caffeine and alcohol for almost 3 months. I had felt sick and tired with boobs that felt like boulders for 3 months. All for absolutely no reason at all. This is a type of miscarriage nobody talks about. The loss feels real but the baby was never there? So now, I sit here writing it all down hoping for a bit more clarity from the fog I’ve been in but its still yet to clear.
I know I will recover from this but now I ask myself whether I was only ever meant to be a mother to one? Whether this will happen again? Whether this is the clear sign I should take note of? Or whether I need to forget everything I ever believed about how things happen for reasons and try again. Time will tell I guess but in the meantime I will hug my daughter a little tighter at night and be thankful for her and her health.
If you’d have asked me six months ago whether I would ever consider another child, the horrified look on my face wouldn’t even need me to give a verbal answer. Me? with two children when I can barely manage one?!
Fast forward a few months and I found myself answering slightly differently than the answer I gave to the last person who asked. Whether the main change has been just simply having more time on my hands to ponder or its whether I’m watching all my friends who have two, three and even four kids just absolutely boss it.
This would be a good time to talk about one of my dearest friends who I completely admire and wish I was more like. Having her most recent little cherub at the end of last year she now has three children 5 and under! This girl can breastfeed, read a bedtime story, change a nappy whilst simultaneously putting a wash load in..all whilst baking a fricking cake! Serious mum goals there. Some people just have the knack, don’t they?
Then there’s me, who almost goes into cardiac arrest if my daughter gets more than one toy out at a time. I mean, I’m trying to get better but I have a major control issue in the house. If the house is chaotic, so is my brain.
One of the main things my therapist and I worked on was to try and let go and relax. Apparently, it stems back to keeping my bedroom such a tip when I was growing up, almost mentally scarring me of all the bad times and struggles I had when I locked myself in there for days at a time! Sounds dramatic but makes sense as I can’t relax if there are things out everywhere and I lose my temper unnecessarily.
Mess triggers me. But weirdly only at home. In my own little bubble.
So anyway, the thought of another, although still slightly scary, is enticing me more and more. Sometimes I watch my daughter talking to rocks in the garden and it breaks my heart. She asks all the time for a little brother or sister as all her friends have them and it stumps me… I’m full of um’s and er’s as I have no real excuse other than reminding her she would have to share everything and sometimes mummy wouldn’t be able to give her ALL the attention. She usually pipes down a little bit then. But still. I am wondering.
But my questions are –
Am I mentally strong enough to do this all again when I struggled so much first time around?
Am I letting childhood memories of having an extra three step-siblings pretty much torpedoed into myself and my brothers little broken home overnight affect my judgement?
Am I letting the collective family opinion of ” I think ones enough for you Jaz” shape me more than it should?
Xbox Widow A girlfriend or wife who is denied sex because of video gaming addiction I’ve become a Xbox Widow because I offered David head, sex or even ass sex and he refused sex with me because he was gaming to many times to count and I need some sex badly.
Quite a funny description from the good old Urban dictionary there. Funny. but horrendously relatable.
I’ve just completed my 3,457th argument with my other half about putting our daughter to bed. Usually, I get her ready for bed and do all the teeth brushing, toileting and storybooks and then he will come in to sit with her for 5 minutes as she settles much better for him. This evening apparently was a massive inconvenience to him as he was just waiting for a “Gulag” what the hell is a Gulag when its at home? I’m pretty sure its some kind of Labour camp the Soviet Union created back in the 1930s.
My boyfriend is leading a double life as a gaming addict enthusiast.
During daylight hours he holds down a normal job. By night, he is a Call of duty soldier who spends his time running aimlessly around the battlefield and getting killed every two seconds leading to…Gulag (sigh).
It wasn’t always like this. The living room hasn’t always been a mass of cables, controllers and consoles. He used to actually go out and speak to humans face to face but then it all just changed. More so since having a child and even more so since this bloody lockdown! Now he sits in front of the TV for hours at a time, while exhorting his clan-mates to “come over here mate!” or “back me up, ah fucks sake! and the ignorance doesn’t end there. As he wears headphones (obviously) its rare I can get him to even look at me. Now and again I’m treated to a grunt or more rarely a smile but usually, I might as well talk to the cat.
I should point out that I know how easy it is to be seduced by the winking white box in the corner, having myself had an intense yet brief infatuation with games in the past. I once completed Final Fantasy 8 on the PlayStation 1. It was a proud moment of my life…but I was 11..not 35.
In 2015, a 24-year-old man collapsed and died after playing “World of Warcraft” for 19 hours in a Shanghai Internet café…