Sacrifice

Parents sacrifice a lot, that goes without saying. We sacrifice our sleep, our boobs, our "me" time. I even sacrificed a MAC lipstick once (RIP Mehr). 

Sacrifice is defined as "an act of giving up something valued for the sake of something else regarded as more important or worthy". 

Ok, so maybe I didn't quite sacrifice Mehr. But I did sacrifice my job. 

It was kind of a given that I was going to have to give up my job once I had Evie. 

I was a Programme Support Worker for NCS and my role involved driving 42 miles to Eastbourne daily and then going away for weeks at a time 3 times a year. It was time consuming and fuel consuming and I very often took my job home with me. But I did it because I loved it. Very rarely do you find a job you love that much. 

I am working now, and I enjoy it, but the job doesn't ignite anything within me. If an advert for NCS comes on, I have to turn the TV over or walk away. It hurts my heart to watch it. 

Sometimes I look at Paul and I resent the fact that he didn't have to give up his job. And it's doubly not fair because he's not as passionate about his job. But then I look at Evie and I feel so guilty because she is that something "more important or worthy". But that doesn't stop the achey heart pains. 

And so today, as I was walking through town, I saw a stand of NCS kids doing their social action project. Instead of walking away being secretly a bit sad, I went to speak to them. I found it who they were raising money for and I bought Evie a teddy polar bear from their bric-a-brac. Then I got the email address for their coordinator. I thought, fuck it. Why can't I have it all? At the minute I'm working for a pretty measly pay check when really, I want to be working to feed my soul. 

So here's to chasing after your dreams, even ones you willingly gave up. Because if I know one thing, it's if you have something worth holding on to, you hold onto it. Or you work your arse off to get it back. 

My life after suicide.

James was a skater. He did a lot of things but if I was to ever picture him in my mind, it would be with a board in hand. In a beanie (which I had tried on so many occasions to throw in the bin), sun kissed and sweating. 

Something happened to me today which hit me like a freight train carrying 12 tons of bricks. It's a humid Friday and it's raining. It has been all day. So I've stayed in playing with Evie, attempting arts and crafts for Father's Day but mostly just being lazy. Lazy enough to not shower this morning. I think I even forgot to put deodorant on. Well, I know I did because I caught a whiff of myself and that's when the freight train came along. 

I smelt like James after a intense session of skating and it broke my heart into a thousand pieces. A smell I'd only come to associate with him. One I haven't smelt since one of the last times I would have watched him skate. A weird thing to say and probably a weirder thing to admit. 

But let me start by saying there is nothing romantic deep rooted within these feelings. Explaining my relationship with James is difficult. We were together for a few years and then we weren't. It was natural and mutual and we remained good friends throughout our new relationships and then our breakups. I don't see him as an ex boyfriend, I see him as someone who was once one of my best friends.

As well as being mine, he was one of my younger brothers closest friends. After my older brother moved to New Zealand I think James filled that older brother hole for Tom. His influences weren't always great, but he was a friend to him. A really good one. My dad had a soft spot for James, he cared about him like he was one of his own. So he was a part of my family in a way. 

I guess it's a weird time to be writing this. But it's that freight train which prompted me because it was a feeling I haven't felt in a long time. I've come to terms with James' death. After years of torment, and counselling followed by CBT, I've come to understand that it wasn't my fault, and I couldn't have saved him. I can talk about him now without hot tears prickling my eyes and my heart feeling like it's being crushed by some sort of heavy machinery. I actually like talking about him. But it will always be hard because he was my ~ex~ and I think people will always find that strange. So I push it to the back of my mind as something tragic that has happened. A piece of my past which shaped me, for better and for worse, into the person I am today. 

But days like today, which don't happen often, snap me back into the harsh bittersweet reality that he was real. He was, he is, a very real person who meant a lot to me. I struggle so much to come to terms with the fact that he was a mere chapter in my life. Years will go by and it will go from being the 4th anniversary to the 10th anniversary to the 20th anniversary of his death. The fraction of my life he was in will become less and less. 

He deserved more. So much more. He was beautiful, and bright and intelligent. He had a way with words and with music. He was kind and cheeky and he was also a bit of an arsehole. He pissed me off beyond belief and made me seeing-red angry and pathetically sad. 

I don't really know why I'm writing this less than a month short of the 4th anniversary of his death. This post also has no real direction. Other than to tell you if you've lost someone to suicide that it does get better. And it also doesn't. Day to day life gets easier. And days go by that I don't think about James. But when I do, it hurts. It doesn't hurt as much as the day I received that phone call and my life shattered before my eyes; but my God it hurts. However I suppose I'm thankful. No matter how many years go by, when he comes to me in a dream or I watch Flight of the Conchords, listen to Prince or hell, even smell my sweaty pit; I will remember him. Vividly and in colour. How he should be remembered. 

What to pack in your hospital bag...realistically.

I don't know about you, but I agonised over my hospital bag for months. I wrote lists, and rewrote lists and whittled the lists down then added to them. It was slightly therapeutic and made me feel in control - its something I do for all trips I'm taking. In fact when I went on holiday as a child, I would pack my suitcase about a month in advance.

However as it would turn out, my labour and delivery was pretty out of control and as it turns out, I didn't use 90% of the things in my bag. In fact, I left most of them at home anticipating a long labour and expecting Paul to come wandering in through the door in the morning with my bag of make up and contact lenses so I could look fresh as a daisy to deliver our daughter. Instead my official labour was about 4 hours long and Paul only just made it to the hospital to be there for the birth.

Here's how it actually went...

Hospital Bag

-Dressing gown

Yeah ok this was used but not often. I spent a lot of time in my knickers and sweatpants. Mostly because my dressing gown is actually a really nice light grey colour and there are a lot of fluids during labour and delivery. A LOT.

Large t-shirt and comfy bottoms

Note how I started this list fairly realistic?

'Big sexy pants'

I mean, I had good intentions but I actually wore those free mesh hospital pants the entire time after delivering Evie. So hideous but so comfy. And no matter how big you think the pants you bought are, they are not big enough to house maternity pads.

Swimwear

I didn't even see the sign for the birth pool let alone get to give birth in it. A water birth was my idea of a perfect birth but it just didn't happen. In fact, the midwives didn't even know I wanted one (mostly because they didn't read my birth plan AT ALL but that's a different story).

Toothbrush and toothpaste

These finally came out of the bag on the 2nd day in hospital. Thank you gum.

Hairbrush and hairbands

My hair lived in a topknot, unbrushed and unwashed.

Pineapple juice and water

I read that pineapple juice stimulated the uterus and promoted contractions?! I actually ended up drinking it after I gave birth when I was sick of lukewarm hospital squash. The water however was a lifesaver. I was so damn thirsty throughout my labour. What I will say is, bring a large water bottle because those tiny hospital cups just don't cut it when you're growling at your partner to JUST GET MORE WATER.

Snacks

Nobody wants to eat an organic protein bar during labour. Nobody.

Birthplan and maternity notes

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

Microwave heat bag/hot water bottle

Because I obviously thought that contractions would be like period cramps. LOL.

Make-up bag

I think I maybe managed a bit of lip balm on the day I was discharged

Contact lenses/glasses

Well I took my contact lenses out to go to bed. But I instead went into very fast active labour. So my glasses fell down the toilet while I was being sick and were tossed aside from then on. One of the first things I said to Paul after Evie was born was "can you pass me some contacts because I can't see her".

Books/magazines

I still have magazines left over from the day Evie was born because when you're not feeding/changing/gazing at your newborn, you're sleeping. Not reading bloody Grazia.

Cleanser and flannel

I rarely use make up wipes but this was an exception

Blanket for dad

Paul went home every night because he just "couldn't get comfortable on the hospital recliner". Yeah well I just pushed an 8lb baby out of my twinkle with only gas and air sweetheart so I think I trump you on that one.

Pillow

I found this very comforting actually, a bit of home away from home and doubled as a nursing pillow which is completely did not use at all.

Razor

I didn't brush my teeth for over 24 hours you really think I had time to shave my legs?

Camera

Yeah phones exist and everything but I'm old fashioned when it comes to capturing first moments. And turns out the hospital photographer doesn't work on weekends. Cheers for coming on a Saturday Evie.

Thank you cards and cookies for midwives

We accidentally left a few bits at the hospital so went back a few days later to pick it up. I dropped a card in then - the midwives didn't even realise I'd been in and had a baby. And lets be honest if I'm making cookies, I'm eating them myself.

This was just me though, I think everyone's different. And it's so much fun preparing that bag and having it sit in the hallway from 37 weeks all ready to go. However all I will say is you do not need exfoliator in there. I promise. 

e,x

8 things you will learn whilst on maternity leave...

1) You will become really very passionately angry about parking spaces. 

Oh ok cool so your kids about 16. You definitely need that extra room *glares angrily, slowly shaking head*. 

And don't even get me started on people who park in parent and child without a kid full stop. Just. Don't. 

2) You will not go to bed without a kids tv show theme tune in your head on repeat. 

*ah finally, sweet sweet slumber I can't wait to get maybe 5 hours sleep tops...PAW PATROL PAW PATROL WE'LL BE THERE ON THE DOUBLE* 

3) Being a stay at home mum is expensive. In fact, I'm not sure who coined the term stay at home mum because when you've got a clingy, whinging 10 month old, the last thing you want is to be cooped up indoors; with piles of washing staring you in the face. Sometimes what you need is the bright, shiny, distracting lights of Tesco. And those trips often result in buying stuffed dinosaurs you were using to distract said 10 month old, because she's chewed the tag and dribbled on its face (yes, that happened). 

4) You will engage in hot debate about Peppa Pig with other parents. 

Why does everyone call Daddy Pig, Daddy Pig? He's not everyone's daddy? Why does Mrs Rabbit seem to hold every job in town? Why is she not called Mummy Rabbit? How does George put up with Peppa's shit every damn episode? Why do they all live on such steep hills? 

5) Now this is a bit of a weird one, but you end up on the floor a lot. At least, I do. If I go anywhere with Evie, I'll start on a chair and finish on the floor. Health visitor appointment? She finished up the paperwork cross legged on a snake rug. Meeting with my uni lecturer? We were all on the floor. I believe I actually lay down at one point. I can't explain why this happens, it just feels natural now. 

6) 7am is a lay in. You want to punch people who whinge about getting up for work at 8. I'd stand on Lego once a day for the rest of my life if it meant I got to sleep in until 8. 

7) You learn and can recognise the regulars at baby groups. The oversharer. The perpetually tired one. The one who looks far too put together for 9am on a Monday. The one who's constantly running after the speed crawler. The bragger. It goes on. 

8) You learn who your true friends are. The harsh truth is, friends show their true colours when you have a baby. And although they think they can just pop back into your life after a year and your child will magically like them as much as you do, it doesn't work that way. Kids have favourites. Namely those who are around often, and they feel safe with. But you also make new friends, and they're pretty damn great.