It started with them

My how, what, when.

My new beginning

A life worth everything.

The thing about motherhood is that there is often no room for much other than the truest version of you.

The unedited at 2.00am version.

I’m trying my best.

I hope they can see that.

When my eyes do not meet theirs when they need them to, it’s not because I don’t want them to.

I remember this familiar ache.

My body feels exhausted, and raw.

My hands now mourning the bump that has been replaced by empty skin.

This is the first time I’ve caught a break today and I have been working since 11.pm last night. That’s when my night shift began. I was up every few hours keeping someone else alive.

“Don’t wish it away”.

That’s what they say.

And they mean it, they feel it, from in their own day.

My oldest friends,

We’ve known each other for years, yet it’s been months (if not years), since we’ve caught up. Adulthood has immersed us in our own new worlds.

To the mother about to expand your family,

I’ve been there twice now.

I know you are worried about what’s to come. How will your oldest adjust to the new? How will you make time for everyone? Is there any more room for the guilt you already know awaits you?

Six weeks.

It’s been six weeks since I brought my baby earth size. Since I pushed my body to it’s limits, turning myself inside out to be pieced back together by a love that seems to good to be true.

It started with them

My how, what, when.

My new beginning

A life worth everything.

My birth was beautiful. As someone who has always birthed quickly, I had missed the opportunity for water births previously. My plan this time was to try and make that happen. We did and it was incredible.

What happened next was not in the plan. No one plans for it.

We walk out the hospital doors together.

He carries our baby, and I carry my body.

Them first. Me second.

She doesn’t recognise herself.

She looks in the reflection and sees someone new.

Stomach empty, yet still heavy like a waterbed.

It didn’t go as planned.

I planned to be snuggling my newborn baby which I had just birthed, not being taken in an ambulance to the nearest hospital.

I am responsible for these moments.

For soaking in this precious time with my baby, rather than the guilt of everything else I feel like I should be doing. Because my baby won’t always need me in this way, but the dishes will always be waiting.

My love for my children isn’t always what everyone else sees.

It’s not just in the kisses and hugs I take photos of and share.