2018-11-22 | 6:34 p.m.
Quick update as I don't want the last update to be considered present, as it's not. I'm not depressed. I had a really low week or so where everything felt terrifying and horrible (I think people say babies are "hard" purely to be polite). I ached for my old life and felt overwhelmed that my new life involved 24/7 care (even though Ollie helps enormously and was and is a tower of strength) for a small stranger who'd catapulted into our lives.
Whilst pregnant I never really thought much beyond birth as I was so scared of labour; but I don't think anything could have prepared me anyway.
He's seven weeks old today and I don't think things are loads "easier" yet, but I'm adapting and finding my way better.
I still want to write my birth story before too much time passes (spoiler: because every woman who gives birth deserves to remember the time they inhaled so much gas and air that they hallucinated a portion of fish and chips).
I'll start with the day before my waters broke: It was Tuesday 2nd October and Ollie and I had both been off work as I'd had a consultant appointment at the hospital to go over blood results, which looked okay, though the consultant said we'd need to discuss the results at my haematology appointment (which I never made it to as it was three days after I gave birth).
Presciently and fortuitously we finished packing my hospital bag that night and I went to bed expecting to get up and go to work the following day.
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