Forgive the absence... it's been a bumpy ride!

Forgive me blog for I have sinned. It's been a month of pregnancy and seven months of motherhood since my last entry.

I took maternity leave from my laptop. It reminds me of all the years of computer-committed work I dedicated my adult life to. Keyboards bring me out in Hives.

OK, there may be another small reason why I've taken time out. That would be giving birth to my wonderful son (and days being full of milk-producing, brown and yellow-stained nappies, more milk-producing, sleep-deprived nights, tears, laughter... and did I mention milk?) Amongst the joy of seeing my son for the first time, and getting to know him, day by day, I have had other time-consuming relations that have tried to eat up every emotion and spit me out. My marriage. It ended in late November.

I won't go into details. I'll save you. And me. But it's been a bumpy ride. Conversations revisited try and eat me up when my day's duties fade with the sun. The why's and wonders circle my mind as the moon lights up the sky. Unanswered questions hover. Then, today's priority cries out at me. I lift my son out of his cot, cuddle and feed him.

I look at my son and know... he'll always be mine. I may hold his hand for a short while, but I'll hold his heart forever (so the saying goes).

My son arrived six days earlier than his due date. It all happened so fast, just like the ending of my marriage.

The memory of H's birth will forever turn up the corners of my mouth and give me the warmest feeling. Yep, all the pain really does fade into a big hole of forgetfulness! It's the silly things... like...

• Standing outside Tesco's with my hub waiting for it to open after my water's had broken to buy sanitary towels. We didn't make it inside the shop, as I had the worst 'period pain' and wanted to go home. 
• The 'crouching over the swiss ball' moment is also up there, as I noticed that my hub had bought me every gossip mag going for the labour, a bottle of Pink Verve Cliquot in prep for our celebration, and the important post-pregnancy towels (like frickin' bricks).

Cheekbones to die for

My labour was quick. I woke at 7amish with a 'show' and broken waters... slightly. Nice. My hub dutifully rang the labour ward and we went in. My waters were 'broken'. She talked us though returning 24 hours later, if things hadn't progressed. I was uncomfortable on the bed and couldn't really take in what she was saying. Was I a Brosette? Could have been up there for all I knew. OK, I doubt it.

I told her I had cramps. That was all fine. Contractions are "different". Now I look back - I was in labour.

To cut a short story shorter...  I managed to clamber off of our toilet to get down the stairs to the car. Water was trailing. I'd already changed my leggings, but the fresh pair were now soaked.

I was driven to hospital by my sweating hub (it was 10 July... hot, and he was about to have his whole life changed). I only just got into the car. I repeated: "Water is going everywhere!" I'm a respectable woman who always leaves the house with a bit of blusher. Now, I was blushing. I was driven into the hospital car park and I hobbled into the ward like I'd shat myself. I hadn't. Yet. (No, I didn't btw). I pressed a button outside the door around 1pmish. "Let me in." Not the most rehearsed, or polite way of putting it, I agree. But, I never expected it to happen this way. I mean, the hired TENS machine was pointless!

I threw my folder at the receptionist and raced to their nearest loo. Water trailed my tracks. Could I leave the toilet? I look back and I never had 'the urge' to push. I felt like sucking it all in to be honest.

Hub - all parked up. Hub - at my side. Me - in pain. I'd forgotten my volume levels. I was taken straight to be examined (after I swished myself off the toilet and down the corridor). I was 10cm fully dilated. I had to push my baby out. Hang on!! I've not had my hair done yet, nor painted my nails. OMG. IT WAS TIME.

It felt like 20 mins later... although I believe it was about 40. Towards the end I was threatened with forceps if I didn't push enough, so... Harry was born at 2.17pm at 6lbs 9oz (in a little distress). It seemed to happen so fast.

throughout almost every One Born Every Minute, I would cry when I was pregnant. I also wondered why the mum's hardly ever did. My hub cried... so did H (a given). I didn't. Is it hormones? I was so overwhelmed. I even had the Community Midwife (who delivered H) chatting about her holiday to Cyprus as she was stitching me up. All I could think about was: 'I've got a son. I'm a mum. I've done it!!!'

Every day since, I've been fortunate. I count my blessings. Yes, my hub, whom I adored, didn't have the same future or dreams as me, but my son makes me smile every day. At seven-months-old he's already pulling himself up to standing and crawling so fast. I trail him with his clean nappy.

And... those gossip mags? I read them more than three months later.

Good toes: Raising my head above water to always put my son first. Eating salmon and spinach risotto. Holding off on dessert.

Naughty toes: Letting others get to me. Being a lone parent is a full-time job... it's not easy to fit much else into my day.