Friday, 23 September 2016

Four months later.

We’ve hit the four month mark. (Actually in fact we hit it around about a week ago now, I just honestly don’t get a minute to think. That’s what being a mama is all about). I’ve been wanting to write a post for the past week to tell you truthfully but once you become a mama, things change. What you hope and plan for at night when you go to sleep and wake up bright and early in the morning seems to never blummin’ happen. So after a ‘I’m not having a nap’ meltdown, I finally get to have time to write while the other half plays on some football game on the PS4.

Over the past month we’ve gone through the works, from injections with a fever, to rolling over. To crying for hours on end with my partner while I was having a night off at a gig, and about to hail a taxi  in a storm, to babbling happily away and properly laughing.

I feel proud as a parent. You know the type. Them over the top parent’s that think that everything their child touches is golden. I’m just so proud that she’s coming on as a little girl and that her personality is shining through. Unfortunately for her, she has my temper. I’m already thinking about booking a cabin for when she turns two-teen.

The 16 Week Injections
Oh bother. I mean it can happen at any and we’ve been so lucky with her as she’s never been run down after injections before so we we’re pretty okay with her stepping in for these ones. We did the usual. Calpol as soon as we could. Keep her cool. Check her temperature. Extra milk if she wants it. We just didn’t expect around two hours later after we had all been lying in the garden, that she would boil up. She came close to 39 degrees.  It was honestly like holding a radiator I had never felt so horrible in my whole life that she wasn’t well.

I know everyone has their own reasons when it comes to injections but after 24 hours she returned to normal. I would honestly put her through it again, if it stops her from catching a deadly disease. It sounds horrible and maybe abusive to some people but I would never put her at risk for something so bad when it’s still out there.

Rolling, rolling, rolling. I can officially say that she is trying to roll over. Well. She did it a few times and has since trying to skip out the stage by trying to sit up all by herself. I hope she’s not one of those super babes that misses out on that stage all together because I can’t wait to see her crawl after us.

Imogen has been a bit iffy when it comes to her milk this month. I put it down due to teething. Some days she wants an extra bottle, some days she will only drink half of each. Now this is the proud mama moment I was on about. She’s starting to hold her own bottle when it’s not as heavy to hold. Yesterday she drank 3 ounces all by herself. I didn’t think her little arms could hold the weight! My hand was underneath the entire time waiting but she was so determined to do it.

For us, Imogen has been showing us signs that she’s ready to wean for a while now so we’ve tried her a couple of times with food but it’s been nothing but disastrous. She would rather just sit babbling away and push the food out. So that is that. I think we’re going to wait until the 6th month mark now but we will see!

And me.
I recently read a post or a billion about how mums are forgotten about and seen as just ‘dossing around’. I’ve got myself a little job where I work a couple of hours a week just for a break from everything. Money isn’t my concern although having more undeniably would be nicer. It’s just nice to go out and work a shift and talk to people that you’re not around 24/7 or a baby that can’t talk back properly to you just yet. The first question I got asked ‘how old is she’ followed straight after by ‘when are you going back to work?’. I’ve never been more offended. 

Okay, my daughter is 4 months old that might seem a long time to some people but when it comes to a baby’s life, their first year is full of first that you’ll never get to experience again. Sure, some people go back to work for the money or whatever reason they have, some never go back. It’s each to their own. However, I felt a little off guard, when I’m working, asking when I’m getting a proper job.
  • I was at work. Working.
  • I will work more hours if and when I want to.
  • I didn’t appreciate feeling worthless, that I wasn’t doing enough.
  • Being a mother is a job.

It’s a job you do for love, with love. It’s hard fucking work. It’s rewarding but crickey yes I’d love a hot coffee sometime this year.

I think a lot of people think that being a mother to a baby is just a doss job, that you sit on your arse all day doing nothing but watching Jeremy Kyle. Okay maybe you got me, my neighbour is actually due to appear on it in the next couple of weeks but anyway. Yes. Being a mother. It’s full of nappies, crying, playing, feeding, restlessness, tiredness, wanting a minute to yourself or to be able to pee by yourself. It’s cleaning your house endlessly from toys and poo explosion clothes to cleaning bottles because your daughter can be fussy and not want it all in one go. It’s being up in the night every half an hour because your baby is teething and won’t sleep without a soother. I could go on and on but I think you get my point.

To end on a high note, I’ve had 20 minutes to myself. I’ve left a mess of clothes at the side of my bed and got into my pj’s. Imogen is sleeping next to me for now so I might go make myself that quick brew.

See you at 5 months!



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