Don’t wake up, please. 

The harsh reality of becoming a parent is you never realise just how much you took for granted before your life revolved around someone else’s.

Once the adrenaline of those magical first couple of weeks wears off, where your baby sleeps all day and all night and only wakes up for feeds, the tiredness, stress and I can’t do this kicks in.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t swap this for the world, he is my whole heart and the love of my life but I don’t half miss my pre-motherhood life.

Sleepoh God how I miss sleep. There are not enough words in this world to describe how much I miss a full, uninterrupted night of sleep. I get one occasionally, thanks to my darling Mother, but I will always say that I wish I knew my last night was going to be my last night, I would have taken full advantage of it rather than spending it somewhere I shouldn’t have.

Washing and I don’t mean laundry, I mean actually cleaning myself. I can go a few days without a bath or a shower, and it’s only when I do eventually get one, that I realise how long it’s been and how during that time I’ve been puked, pissed and shit on! It sounds disgusting and it really is, but again, trying to grab a bath with a grizzly baby in his bouncy chair is less than enjoyable.

Watching a movie really is one of my favourite things to do, or, well, it was. I cannot remember the last time I managed to sit indoors and watch an entire movie, without cries for attention or food. Now my viewing consists of Extreme Couponing and Toddlers and Tiaras at 4am.

Just leaving the house without it feeling like a God damn military operation! Do I have enough nappies? Enough bottles? Enough spare clothes? How long am I’m going to be out for? Will I make it there before his next feed? Blah blah blah. Where did my spontinety go?

Staying out later than 9pm is a fond memory, even through pregnancy, I rarely made it out later than 8. Even on my rare nights off, I’m too exhausted from the week of raising my little monster to have more than a couple of beers before I just need to crawl into bed and hope to sleep for a year.

Parenting is tough, tough in ways that I couldn’t even imagine. I know it will get easier, but that feels like a such long way off.

Mother & baby spin class

As most mothers, I was very concerned about weight gain during pregnancy and my post baby body. My weight has always been something that I have struggled with and I have always been a very self concious person. Before my pregnancy I worked out regularly and watched what I ate, but most of that went out the window in my first and final trimester, well, because chocolate.

Since giving birth I’ve been very keen to get back into regular exercise and lose my baby weight! But being a single parent and not wanting to rely on my family for more than I already do, getting to the gym was always going to be tough so when I heard that my gym had started up a mother and baby spin class, where mothers can set baby aside their bikes during the class, I was overjoyed!

Each class is 30 minutes long, which is plenty long enough for easing back into working out, and 3 times per week. It costs £2 per class, which is cheaper than the crèche but still on top of my regular membership. These classes allow mothers to get a great work out and tend to babies needs at the same time, so much so that I’ve seen ladies spinning while holding their little ones. Upon doing some research, a quick search via Google, these classes are held around the country!

Henry is slowly but surely getting used to sitting in his car seat watching Mumma get her sweat on, even if I do have to jump off my bike occasionally or just carry on and let him grizzle. From what I have experienced it has been a no-judgement zone whatever I have decided to do with Henry while he is fussy as every lady is in the same boat.

I would thoroughly recommend these classes to anybody that has one local enough to attend, a great work out and a great way to meet new Mums.

Does this make me a bad mother?

I have only been a mother for eight weeks now, so I’m hardly a knowledgeable veteran of parenting, and I have spent a lot of nights wondering ‘does this make me a bad mother?’. The answer, as always, no.

I love my son with every ounce of my body, but I will always openly admit that I never wanted children and deciding  whether or not to carry him was something I had to think long and hard about.

Does this make me a bad mother? No. 

Me and my boy are an exclusively formula-feeding team, due to the fact he could not get the hang of breast-feeding for the first few weeks and after the first week of frustrating failure I gave up trying. I was always on the fence about breast-feeding throughout my pregnancy but decided that I would give it my best shot, just to say that I tried. Henry is healthy, happy and we have a wonderful bond regardless of my choice not to persevere with the boob, but the many untoward tones of health visitors on the matter led me back to the question.

Does this make me a bad mother? No. 

In the eight short weeks I’ve been a mother I’ve already had my fair share of break downs where I’ve have needed to call my mother and have her come and take Henry from me just so I could get some kip. One particular evening I remember thinking I could just leave and never come back and I honestly believe the only thing that stopped me was due to the fact my bed was closer than any train station!

Does this make me a bad mother? No. 

So the long and short of it, there’s many times I think I’m a terrible mother, from not being able to cope to letting my baby cry for a while as judging eyes look on. But none of it does.

The first post

Ladies, gentlemen, boys and girls.

I had so many questions, queries and general worries during pregnancy and in the eight weeks I have been a mother. I took on board advice from everybody and anybody, I took solice in reading others pregnancy journeys and their tips for tackling motherhood.

I rarely come across single parent stories, especially ones in a similar situation to myself. So I thought I would take the time to write mine, for all willing to read, from my pre natal fears to my post natal ups and downs.