I know I know, its been a very long time since I wrote anything on this blog. Why you ask? Since I found out I was pregnant in December 2015, I have been too scared. Scared of what? There are so many pregnancy blogs out there, new mum blogs out there, but I couldn’t do it. To begin with, I was terrified of writing something on pregnancy and getting too excited in case anything went wrong. And then I had my little M, and I was too afraid of the depth of emotion to put anything into words. 6 months on, and I am coming to grips with the changes in me, our lifestyle and the future.
Motherhood … well nothing anyone can tell you prepares you for it. I was incredibly lucky and apart from some heartburn had a relatively easy pregnancy. Yes, my feet ached at the end of the day and I experienced fatigue, but these were outweighed by the feeling of having your child move within you, respond to your touch or noise. It is an incredibly special episode in any woman’s life, and I felt so privileged to be able to experience it. However, it felt incredibly fragile at the same time, almost like holding a beautiful flower in your hand, that any touch may crush the petals and rob them of their beauty and perfection. People also don’t help – if you run for too long you might do damage, if you have too much caffeine, the wrong food, too much stress – you name it, people continually harbinger fear which I largely tried to ignore but I think your mothering and protective instincts already kick in. The pregnancy flew, not least because we were rushing to finish our ensuite bathroom in order to move back to our bedroom. DIY filled many late evenings, with Superdad rubbing my feet and back to ease the strain. What would I do differently looking back? I don’t think I would do much different. I would speak more to my unborn child, caress her and enjoy her, as I think in true Lianne style, we just got on and tried to do as many jobs as possible. I don’t regret that, nor the travel for work at 34/5 weeks, but I do regret the impatience with which my last 4 weeks were filled. I wish I could have been more patient but we were so desperately keen to meet our precious bean at that point.
6 months on, and our darling child is a joy. Her smiley presence can infect even the toughest London commuter, and she never ceases to amaze us. Of course we think she is the cutest, smartest, strongest child but I think this is (in part) the protective nature of parenting – of wanting the best for your child and thinking they are the best. 6 months in and I have experienced tiredness in ways I couldn’t have imagined (I was an 8-hour a night girl); but you know what? Sometimes I cave to the exhaustion, but most of the time I can carry on. I have been more emotional that ever before, but that too is not a bad thing, as it reminds me that my heart is being changed, softened and moulded into that of a mother. I have known love for both my spouse and my child in deeper quantities than I knew possible, coupled with relief at having his steadfastness at my side, joy to share this journey; gratefulness to be able to cry on his shoulder and defer to him when I am too tired. I have experienced joy in depths I couldn’t imagine when hearing her laugh, seeing her master a new trick or reach out to someone I love. It has given me a new appreciation and longing for family. A constant reminder that living abroad renders us alone in this journey for most of the time. We are fortunate to have my sister 3 hours away and my parents who visit at least once a year, but I have missed their presence whilst on maternity leave in both my life and my daughter’s life.
So it has been a year of blessing. A healthy child, an easy pregnancy, a birth that conformed to my birth plan. A child that brings joy, and is showered in love, and a home that can support her. I feel our lives have been enriched by our poppet, and we look forward to this new adventure of parenthood.