Did you feel comfortable when you decided to stop having more children? Back when Phil and I were discussing our plans to start a family we had pretty much decided to have four. Then we had one.
I’ve been very open on this little blog of mine, about my challenges as a mum. Growing up dreaming of being a mum meant I pictured an earth mother, a gentle and attached mummy who was obviously exhausted (come on, what parent of little ones isn’t?!) but calm and so, so fulfilled. In reality? Silent reflux, postnatal depression, high needs; I’m not the mum I thought I would be.
Until last month the longest I’d been apart from Martha was about 6 hours. Three weeks ago she spent the night at Mum and Dad’s to prepare for when Phil and I went away for Phil’s 40th and left the children in Peterborough with them. All was going swimmingly, until I failed to actually prepare for a weekend away from our little boob monster.
When I was pregnant with Toby I just knew he was a boy. We’d picked a girl’s name just in case (Martha) but I *knew* I was carrying a boy even though we didn’t find out at the scan. I saw myself as a mummy to boys and I was really comfortable with that. With Martha, I didn’t have that sixth sense of our unborn baby’s gender and with my stress levels rising over what to do with Toby’s newborn clothes, we decided to find out. But I didn’t think I wanted a daughter.
When Martha was 4 months old I wrote a post about when to wean, how to know when the time is right and my fears about weaning a baby whose gag reflex was so overactive that even a breastfeed could result in projectile vomiting if she took too big a gulp. Fast forward to Martha at nearly 11 months old and this girl simply loves her food! Here’s how months 6 to 10 went.