Honest K

MASKING INSECURITIES WITH HUMOUR AND SARCASM SINCE 1987

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  • baby announcement

    My pregnancy is not a secret, just none of your business.

    / August 22, 2019 / 1 Comment

    The choice for us to not share a baby announcement when we found out really early at about week 5, was primarily my choice. I knew before the 2 lines appeared that I wanted to keep this…

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  • feminism feminist

    Feminism has gone too far! We can’t touch people…

    / August 10, 2018 / 3 Comments

    “I’m all for feminism, but it’s getting out on hand. I’m scared that if I pat my colleague on the back, I’ll be hauled up for sexual assault. Are we not allowed to touch people anymore?! It’s…

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honestkirsty

Kirsty
100% maw made chunky arm bracelets. 6 months of ex 100% maw made chunky arm bracelets. 6 months of exclusive breastfeeding, with no plans to stop. During the first few weeks in the transition from nips to nips of steel and HORRIFIC uterine contractions while he fed, I dreamt of the 6 month mark. So I could stop feeding, get my body back, be a little more free. Now we are here, I don't want it to end. Not even with his 2 very sharp teeth and 2 more on the way. Breastfeeding is one of the difficult parts of my parenting journey. Mentally damaging with my first, liberating and healing with my second. I still find it intense and exhausting. Theres a constant worry that my body somehow will stop feeding him correctly. That I'll eat something and upset him. Every ache is a sign of infection. The very real feeling of being touched out or having my boobs permanently in 'mum mode'. I do get fed up being his source of food and comfort, particularly when he switches up his sleep schedule and wakes 4 times a night wanting a feed. It can feel lonely, stuck and frustrating. We are 6 months in, a few months shy of when I stopped with Jess. A stop I was thrilled with, a mutual unspoken agreement between mum and baby that it wasn't working anymore. No looking back. I already know this time will be very different. I'll miss it. The tit slaps and sharp nailed side scratches, not so much. But I'll miss this huge part of our relationship, the function of my body, the quiet feeds at night when he gives me secret cheeky smiles after he has tried his best to remove my nipple from my body. I'll miss stroking his chubby wee hands. I'll miss his furious impatient nuzzles on my chest when I'm taking 0.01 seconds too long for his liking. I'll miss his bolting upright before he has removed my nipple, then lying back telling me he wants the other boob, now. I'll miss how he just uses me as a buffet then passes out, milk dribbling on his cheek, no shits given. I'll miss breastfeeding. Who knew. What an absolute mind fuck parenthood is. #breastfeedingjourney #titstothewild #6monthsebf #ourjourney #chunkybaby #mawmilk
Top quality baby entertainment in this house. Also Top quality baby entertainment in this house. Also known as scraping the bottom of the baby barrel finding ways to keep a tired grump happy. And then there's keeping Ben happy 😏 #sleep #whatsthat #6monthsleepregression #or #teething #or #justbabies #whoknows #savagebaby #giespeaceweeman #giessleepweeman #help
I love him 💜 with everything I have, I do. We s I love him 💜 with everything I have, I do. We shouldn't see our children differently, they are equals and to be treated as such. My love for my baby pains me as I couldn't love my first born. It doesn't eat at me, there is no guilt, no shame. But I can't express how much it hurts me. I look at videos of my first baby in wonder. Here is my second baby, I adore him, grateful for this love, lapping up every day I share with him, wanting time to slow. The experience with my first couldn't be further from this. I ache watching her as a newborn. I see what I missed. How could you scream at such an innocent, small face. I was so ill, I know this. But like love for my children will never leave, nor with this hurt. My baby was stolen from me. It's been 5 years and it's still excruciating. When devastation happens, we say hugs your kids tighter. The same is true for getting out the other side of depression. I kiss his cheeks a little more, I hold my daughter when I can, I cherish my time with them. For I know my privilege and my hurt. Both seem to be just as powerful as each other. That's not always a bad thing. I say I couldn't love my first, but in reality, there was love there. Not the rainbows and glee we are accustomed to, a different form of love. Love strong enough to keep us a family and climb our way out from the dark. A love that can endure the lowest form of theft no mother should feel. A love that kept the family together despite several pleadings to end it. A dark and selfless love, that made me tolerate my baby yet made sure she thrived. Still, it feels poor in comparison to how I adore my second baby. I hold no quarrel with the past, but it hurts. The comparison hurts. The loss hurts. Who I was hurts. The illness that warped my mind hurts. I take light in the pain, as a sign of knowing how far we have come and how much I truly and deeply love my children. For that alone, I'll welcome the hurt. Love is a luxury we don't all get to feel. #lifeafterPND #postpartumdepression #Depression #honestparenting #mentalillnessrecovery #myloves💕
A wee reminder that it's not the best idea to go f A wee reminder that it's not the best idea to go for a bath and mermaid yer hair when yer 5 months post partum. Unless you want to look like Chewbacca, well more than usual that is. The only time a treat anyone to a shave is when am goin oot wi ma pals, and since its been lockdown av hung the (stolen) Gillette up for a while. Mixed with mothering, av barely got the energy to eyeroll my teen self who wouldn't be caught dead out the house wi leg hair, never mind have the want to dust off the razor. Anyway, a fully expect to hear the rumbles of 'a think the shower is blocked' soon. A cani quite hear it right now. Ma head is too far up the fucking hoover, unwrapping what appears to be enough hair to facilitate the wigs necessary for a Lady Gaga world tour. Should have bought the pet version of ma vacuum. What an oversight that was. Do you know how fucking annoying it is to be wiping yer wains arse, over and over and over to get off what used to be ma side parting?! A don't know how or why the babys arse is constantly covered in ma hair. Truly. It boggles the mind. But it is what it is. It's no bad enough he is shittin for Britain, but now a need to add 'hair picking' into the routine. I'll no be committing any murders soon, nae chance I'd be able to leave a clean murder scene. Not even Dexter could pull this one off. Aye well, it was lovely to have ma lush locks. But it's back to looking like Gollum caught in the torrential rain - on a good day. #myprecious #5monthspostpartum #byehair #mrmuscle #drainunblocker #needstosponsorme #baldpatch #butnoonmalegs #mightmakeawig
Breastfeeding seemed like the lesser of 2 evils fo Breastfeeding seemed like the lesser of 2 evils for me. Less to do with bonding and nutrition, the choice was based on my own needs. Im terrified of my baby being upset, it tenses my shoulders, makes me unable to focus. I have this belief a boob will sort everything. Its quicker to whip out than make a bottle. No hungry screams. No frantic hurry to make a bottle. I willingly placed the sole responsibility of feeding on my own shoulders. Now I see why breastfeeding contributed to my depression. It's so much more than sustenance. Being the machine that creates another humans food can play terrible mind tricks. Every cough, upset, perceived sore stomach you wonder what you done wrong. What you ate. If your latch was wrong. You question what YOU have done to upset your baby. You fret over what YOU can do to make it all better. All too often society reinforces the idea that the mum is at fault when the baby is upset. What did you eat? Maybe he's still hungry? How do you know if he is getting enough? Do you want me to bottle feed him? Maybe nothing more than concerned words of help, but they can also cast doubt into the already washed out mum. Who has been sold the image of a mum and baby, smiling as they feed. Abundant in love. We don't often see babies pulling and squirming. Upset with letdown force or lack of. Fed up suckling at hind milk, impatiently wanting the other breast. We dont see babies refusing breasts, for reasons only known to their own little minds. The slapping and nipping of chests and faces. Full feeds being thrown back at the mum, while screaming in pain at something. You wonder why this 'natural' process isn't like the warm, fuzzy, happy pictures you've seen. You wonder, with every single challenge, what YOU are doing wrong. As a 2nd time boob feeder, I know I am doing nothing wrong. I know this is hard. I know a perfect latch will not help soothe nipples being sucked 24/7. I know I have really little to do with breastfeeding, it's more about the mood and age of my baby. What he is going through rather than what I'm doing. I know, this time, it can be enjoyable. #breastfeedingawareness
This was Jessica's little pink hippo. One of many This was Jessica's little pink hippo. One of many baby items we kept. Each one of them bring forward a memory, all with a string in the tail. I found the mobile we had on her crib. I remember adding it to her made up crib, all clean and ready for the arrival of our little lady, sending a picture to my mum. This thought brings me to tears. In this mobile I see the excitement of first time parents, then the crash and destruction that quickly followed. I have no memory of using it, only the pre baby happiness. Yet the mobile symbolises unhappiness. PND not only stole the joy of my first baby, it continues to gut punch me as I revel in love and contentment with my second baby. I feel what I missed. I feel sad all over again for myself, my partner and my baby. I feel the strength in my growth and happiness, but it hurts to close the door on that chapter of my life. We don't want more children. This is the last time I will use these items. I've always been ready to be rid of PND, and now when that is happening I feel a sense of grief. I never thought I would be sad at leaving behind a very difficult stage in my life. Who would mourn such a darkness? But this is where I find myself. Emotional closing the door on a shitty time. Reminded every day of the love I missed when I look at my happy baby chomping on the hippo. My past seems so foreign to my life now. It's strange to hold a baby I love completely while holding a toy that was given at the height of my depression, to my daughter that I couldn't love. I didn't expect to be happy this time, let alone be wading through the emotional leftovers of PND. Fucking glad I am though. I'll take blurting out crying at a hippo over crying about self hate any day of the week. PND isn't just something you get over or deal with, it's going to be life long. Pulling up memories and pain when it sees fit. Replaying the most horrible and upsetting replays of events when you get a whiff of baby shampoo you used first time around. Everything is a trigger. And I'm not even sure im ready to give up those triggers just yet. #PND #Depression #depressionrecovery #Mentalhealth #mindfuckery
'What can I do for you' he asks. 'Be mum' I reply. 'What can I do for you' he asks. 'Be mum' I reply. Mum is tired of her role. The constant 24/7 demands. Being chained to the baby who wants to nap, yet hasn't mastered the art of napping quite yet. The baby that requires entertainment in his wake time. Mum wants a break from trying to work out what the baby wants, confused at his refusal to feed, then accepting the boob 3 minutes later. Mum is being torn in her role of 'mother of 2'. Watching her 4 year old's mental health nose dive as we continue in lockdown. Mum cannot give her babies what they need and it hurts. The guilt and pain kills her, the adjustment to 2 kids while being in lockdown is taking it's toll. Mum feels the immense weight of parenthood and the household pushing down hard on her chest, suffocated in this stifled environment. Combined with her post partum body, worries, changes. Her thoughts on her own future, the future of the family, our goals and aspirations. There is no rest bite in her mind. There is no peace. There are no sleepovers, no babysitting, no days out which the 4 year old thrived upon, no nursery, no social norms for her children, no village. Mum cannot 'give' anything more than survival right now. And even that is beginning to crack. I don't want to be mum in this environment. It's more than relentless. I want to be free of the extra pressures lockdown is causing. I want my 4 year old to wake with a spring in her step again. I want my baby to let me shower without shouting for me. I want my shoulders to drop without my instruction. I want the roof of my mouth to be clear of my tense tongue. I want not to dwell on the mental impact this is having on my family. I want a break. This burden is too much to carry. But I'm a mum, a parent. This is our job. Albeit in one of the most trying of times. And so I say 'be mum', not to be cruel or aggressive. I say it fully expressing this daily torture for wanting the best, yet not able to provide. Not for my babies. Certainly not for me. I say it because this is hard. And there is nothing I can do about it right now. I will continue to endure, but make no mistake. If I could hit the pause button on 'being mum' I'd smash it.
There are all different types of babies. And there There are all different types of babies. And there are all different types of mothers. Some mums relish babies, the cuddles, the rocking to sleep, attached at the hip, sniffing up every ounce of their baby. Some mothers embrace and adore the relentless need for some children to be close to them all the time. I'm not that mother. For a long time I thought it meant I was a bad mother. It goes without saying that I adore my children, but fucking hell, I do not want to be in contact with them more than needs be. This mother needs space and silence, alone time to recharge. Space on the sofa void of tiny feet. A baby who likes his crib more than the rocking of his mothers arms. This mum is easily over stimulated, a noisy room and a crying baby tighten the vice around her head. Making soothing a baby and answering questions too much. We are told to enjoy and lap up every second of parenthood, to have independent babies, yet always be with our children 🤔 else we are just not mothering enough. It's ok to be whatever type of mother you need to be in order to raise kids. Being less excited about cuddles and co sleeping doesn't make you less of a parent. Judging and maintaining your own boundaries and mental health should be a priority. Setting your limits doesn't make you less loving or a bad parent. I for one, endure parenting some days, and others I love it. But each night after my hour of being alone, I'm recharged and ready to do it all again. Excited for the future, grateful and thankful for my family, for each day we get to spend healthy and happy. And so I give myself the kindness we all should allow ourself. I'm not a bad parent, I'm just not one who would add 'loves babies' to her parenting CV. I'm not happy being constantly needed, not all the time. It's taken a lot of mental work not to become agitated when this happens. Some days, I can't handle it and it is too much. Some days I need to cry and escape into a quiet room for 5 minutes. I don't see this as a bad quality. I see it as a result of me giving my all to my family. Maybe too much for me to sustain, but I am trying my best. And that's all we can do. #mawlife #wainsgotmelike #lockdownlife
If you want to raise awareness for mental health, If you want to raise awareness for mental health, goni just say how you feel. To yourself, to your friend, to your doctor, to a stranger online. Easier said than done. But do you know what one of the biggest strengths mental illness has? Its bullshit lies. Making you believe you are the only one in your thoughts. You think you're crazy for your anxiety, wrong for your depression, ungrateful for not enjoying your life. It breeds self hate. It breeds isolation. It breeds suicidal thoughts. Once you start to expose your mind, you realise, shit, I'm not alone. There are a million other people who have had the EXACT same thought as me. Therefore, it's the illness giving me these thoughts and perceptions, they don't belong to me. They are all lies. Time and time again I've been told, to become aware is half the battle. I'm only aware after sharing my internal monologue and having others say 'I feel that'. Your words, no matter how terrifying and exposing to you, are powerful. Strong enough to save a mother from wanting to run away from her newborn baby. Strong enough to talk someone down from that ledge. Strong enough to release the grip of your mind demon. Strong enough to keep couples together who would have otherwise called it quits - over what? Lack of honesty and support. So as much as we all want to raise awareness, let's get down to the grit of this and share how you are really feeling. No happy as shit 'you can get through this' awareness meme saved anyone. Bare your soul and out mental illness for what it is. Then we might start to smash those taboos and stop the false bandwagon hashtag crap around mental illness. #mentalhealthawarenessweek #betitstrending #dontpickandchoose #actuallytrytohelp #ifyougiveashit #thegramannoysthetitsaffme #grumpymuch
Anger, rage, frustration and irritability - no one Anger, rage, frustration and irritability - no one wants to talk about them. And so, when we experience them, we believe we are the only ones who feel like this. The new mum angry with her fussy baby. The parent losing their shit when the kid is having a tantrum. The father raising his voice a little too far at the flip of his temper. The angry mother who raised a hand in frustration at her child. Often without warning, a temper will erupt. You've had 3 minutes too long of trying to soothe this baby, who just won't respond to any of your help. When the rage passes, regret and guilt sets in. Right beside shame and failure. We keep it to ourself. It's hard to stand up and say 'I get a bit rage filled in parenthood'. I first noticed my snap temper with my daughter. Only weeks into #PND and I was screaming at her. Continuing for years, as she grew, my temper didn't stop. Shouting, screaming till my throat hurt, warning her to leave me alone. Rage and anger are very common symptoms of depression, yet no one dare utter the words 'I feel angry with my child'. Its maternal mental health week. A time when we all share our struggles and plight. I want people to see the reality of dealing with your own health while trying your best to raise a child. No happy person screams at others. No healthy mind becomes recluse and selfish on their emotions, completely neglecting to care, in that moment, for the emotions of others. It's very hard to say, even to yourself, you've emotionally hurt your child through your temper. What we need to highlight is this is very much a part of parenthood and it should be ok to say how you struggle, without fear of shame or being misunderstood. Being sad doesn't mean you are a sad person. Having a temper doesn't mean you are an angry person. It means you are being pushed to a limit and you need space, help, a voice, a break. It is ok to express any emotion you have in parenthood. They all tell you something. They do not define you. There ain't anyone getting through this without flipping a lid at some point. It's ok to say out loud if you feel angry or frustrated. #maternalmentalhealthweek #maternalmentalhealth #depression #anger #rage
There's a last time for everything. A sentiment I There's a last time for everything. A sentiment I desperately held onto after the birth of my first. Wishing away weeks, longing for it to become easier. Her last evening screams. The last time breastfeeding would hurt. The last time I would feel so isolated and trapped. There's a last time for everything. Now I hold my second baby tight. Enjoy his snores and hugs as he rests on my body. An enjoyment I know stolen from me first time round. A dark place filled with little memories, the only ones surviving are of tears, pain, arguments, hate and resentment. There's a last time for everything brings a tear to my eye this time. Healing and mourning for the love and peace I didn't feel with my first. With each new skill he learns I'm reminded time is passing quick and I'm not yet ready for it to move so fast. I look forward to watching my kids grow, no longer wishing away time. I wish I could slower or pause it some days. Because there is a last time for everything and now I know what I was robbed of, I'm not keen on rushing past these precious days. #lifeafterPND #postnatal #postpartum #pnd #depression #mentalhealing #newborn #8weeksold #motherhood #parenthood_unveiled #mentalhealthawareness #maymentalhealthawarenessmonth #maternalmentalhealth #motheroftwo
When this is all over, I'm going for cake and goin When this is all over, I'm going for cake and going to enjoy it Jess style 👍
I am fucking sick of seeing these reality V insta I am fucking sick of seeing these reality V insta comparison pictures. Comparing, predominantly thin women, to those with a bit more skin on the bones. Usually of a mocking nature to one women, while the other is labelled 'real'. I get that we do not want to project a certain body image, we need more pictures of all body types. But I am so fucking over women comparing, mocking and belittling other women's body shapes under the guise of body positivity. Some women, even 6 weeks post partum, look like a stick insect. That's their body and they have every right to share it without being mocked compared or labelled as 'Instagram'. This is their reality. Who are we to judge and say it is not, who are we to mock and tear down for our own gain. Women are not more or less than based on their shape, something all these mocking posts could do with remembering. This isn't equality, feminism or helping body image. This is bashing other women for not having your body shape. Imagine if it was flipped, a thin woman impersonating a larger women, gyrating around the place in a mocking manner. What a fucking shit show that would create. Women do not get to mock other women because they have a smaller body shape. It's shaming. Its disgusting. And it's really not funny or clever. By all means, share your body, please, we need to see every size, type, colour. But stop labelling it as reality while dragging another woman down in your comparison shot. You do not need to drag another person down, or even use them in your post to promote you view. You can stand on your own and share your shit. I'm all for the 'real' side of insta, but not at the expense of others. Everyone has their own version of real, share yours without the needless bashing. #myreality #itsvalid #itsreal #6weekspostpartum #bodyimage #bodypositivity #stopcomparing #stopbashing
I scored 0 on the #PND scale during Benjamin's 6 w I scored 0 on the #PND scale during Benjamin's 6 week check up. I answered honestly. I felt like I should be ticking the depressed boxes. I'm scared to be happy, if I drop my guard maybe I will be smacked in the face with depression. Waiting for the darkness to creep out the shadows, I cling onto each day I'm happy. Each night I rest my head and think 'marked safe from PND for another day'. Every milestone I think back to being a first time mum. Having a newborn triggers memories daily. Jessica's first cluster feed that enraged and confused me as I pushed her 6 week old body from me, screaming I hated her. I give 4 year ago me love and grace as I sit with Benjamin. I thought I was healed from the past, but I'm healing right now. Seeing old me through new eyes. Understanding the path that made me so ill. Unsolicited advice, worry, stress, anxiety, lack of knowledge, lack of taking it in my stride, thrush in my breast, miscommunication, feeling like a failure, comparison. It all mixed to create my darkness. Second time round I know if my baby is fed and not in pain, then that is the all that is required of me. I am happy. He will develop just fine. I no longer feel sadness for old me. I get her now. And I'm proud that I've managed to get to this space, proud of my partner too. My heart goes out to all parents suffering, especially during this time ❤ #maternalmentalhealth #isolation #mentalhealing #lifeafterPND #mentalillness #postpartum #newborn #6weeksold #mygift #depression #nothedaypal #getitinthebin
I read #PND is likely to occur weeks 5/6 post part I read #PND is likely to occur weeks 5/6 post partum. I'm well into week 5. Watching and thinking about my mental health is a daily occurrence, it kinda needs to be. This time, I'm trying to be more open and voice my mind. When days don't go as I want, I get frustrated and resentful. Thinking 'can I not just get a fucking drink in peace'. Normal I guess, but for me it's dangerous waters. Thoughts that follow next are WILD. Nose diving straight into my self esteem, my relationship, feeling helpless and trapped. All complete bullshit I know. The lies still knock at the door though. It's all to easy to listen to them and be the victim, let them take control. I'm working very hard to be positive, thinking beyond each day is daunting. Newborns are very hard work and I need to mentally chill to accept it. I do feel trapped with a baby, but I also feel immense love this time. It allows me to breathe and enjoy all the smiles, the love between Jess and her brother and be extremely grateful for everything in my arms. I still don't understand why I feel anxious with a baby. Maybe it's because I only want the best for everyone, never wanting my baby to be upset. Or maybe it's more selfish, I need alone time, I need quiet. I don't handle being social for prolonged periods of time. Feeling 'touched out' an wanting space is very real. I accept it this time, I accept what I am. A good mother, but one that gets frustrated, can be moody and one that needs to apologise on the daily. At least this time I can see it. I'm terrified of PND, I dread to think the impact it would have on Jess now she is older. So I work on keeping myself in check. One taxing day is just that, one day. All this shit passes, I already miss my 1 week old baby. Everything passes - this keeps me going. #5weekspostpartum #5weeksold #postnatal #depression #ppd #newborn #anxiety #honestparenthood #parenthood_unveiled #parenthood_moments
My kid picks her own clothes and can leave the hou My kid picks her own clothes and can leave the house looking as fabulous as she likes. She eats ham sandwiches, daily, for lunch. There is no limit on screen time. The piles of toys in each room are eye twitching, her bedroom is wild - to me. To Jess it's a safari park, with the animals all having lunch. She has eaten more treats than I care to mention. And had more pyjama days than being dressed days. Nothing, other than bedtime is enforced. We've brought a new baby into the house at the same time as her life has gone into lockdown. There are days which her behaviour is unusual, tears and attitude that make me want to pull my hair out. She is very aware of what is going on, yet can't always communicate how she feels. I believe kids are very resilient, but not immune to stress and change. There's no educational or daily doses of growth happening in this house. We are getting by the best way we can. Some days that even means mum backtracking on her 'taking the Kindle' as punishment, because mum has her limits too. They don't extent to reading books in bed at present. So lap up the Kindle time little one 👍 Don't feel guilty for the way you're getting through this tough time. Don't compare your life to others, especially right now. Do what feels right for you and take each day as it comes. Ain't nobody getting a prize at the end of this for being a Pinterest Parent. #isolationlife #mumof2 #keepingsane #gettingthroughit #lockdown2020 #shitbewild
Newborn babies are hard. I can't describe how hard Newborn babies are hard. I can't describe how hard or why, theres so many emotions, thoughts and feelings that contribute to the toughness. It's easy to go inside yourself, wonder why I can't do this, when does it get easier, convincing yourself no one else feels like this. No one else gets frustrated at their baby, for just being a baby. No one else gets pangs of feeling trapped by the monotonous daily chores of keeping a baby alive. It's easy to believe those words. But doing so is wrong. Second time round I remind myself, this passes, others feel the same, I'm not a monster. I'm a tired human. I've always been an impatient, easily frustrated human. This doesn't change when it comes to motherhood. I've snapped, I've cried (several times), I've felt like I cannot wait for 6 months to pass and the baby to release his tight grip from me. And I've felt bad for all those things. But I'm also here, doing the feeding, the hugging, the soothing, the nappies, the shit explosions. Babies are bullshit. Babies are testing. Babies are relentless. It's ok to break some days and wonder what the fuck you have done and if you can do it. Because you are doing it. Along with cuddles and coos, there will be tears and frustration. It's normal. It's ok. As long as the happy days and hours outweigh the bad ones, we are all ok. It's ok not to always enjoy parenthood, it's ok not to 'enjoy' that bundle of joy. Coz let's be honest, it's hard to 'enjoy' such a demanding little monster every second of the day. The newborn stage is more about endurance and stamina. Keep going, it gets better, it gets easier. Be kind to yourself. We all cry over spilt shit at some point - that's the saying, right? #4weekspostpartum #newbornlife #newbornsaretough #motherof2 #honestparenthood #postpartum
Dimbles - check Smiles - check Cute chubby chin - Dimbles - check Smiles - check Cute chubby chin - check check Mr B dishing out some happiness and positivity for everyone. #bemoreBenjamin #Smile #Cozeverythingelseispish #onedayatatime #fuck #onehouratatime #hesahappyweesoul #grateful #luckylady
Benjamin ❤❤ I love your soft squishy rolls. I Benjamin ❤❤ I love your soft squishy rolls. I could do without the waddle and questionable bladder control, but your adorable faces and bright eyes more than make up for it - for now. I'm sure when you are driving me batshit with your sister I'll be cursing you as I pee myself. This whole pregnancy and birth was always going to be shadowed by PND, the extent to which I was naive. That shadow still continues. I couldn't be more happy or in love, the things I missed first time. I've caught myself wondering 'what if I stop loving him' 'what if I crumble' 'what if I get lost again'. I take a minute and breathe. What if none of that happens and I get the happiness and 'maternal' bliss robbed from me the first time. I'll take it one milk filled day at a time ❤ #newborn #titmental #milkfiend #bigben #10lbbaby #neverwillheforget #whatisbladdercontrol
I don't know who to credit for making this meme, b I don't know who to credit for making this meme, but it sure made me laugh! #40weekspregnant and shockingly, this is the best I've felt in weeks! He's no longer relentlessly ripping my skin, I get the odd rip and nip - pretty sure hes done his stretch mark damage by now. I've mentally made my peace with birth, whatever that may bring. I've been reassured it's my body, my choice, and as long as baby and I are ok, he will not be forced out against my will - something that needs to be highlighted. Women have a choice, 40wks+ is not over due, there should be no 'let you go' or 'forcing' until medically necessary - if that is your choice. I'm thankful my midwife sees me as a human and not a vessel. I'm actually enjoying the last week or so. There have been very low points, but I feel a storm has passed. And I don't see birth as a storm, what will be will be. Gotta keep my zen game strong #namakeepyerbadvibesawayste I am beyond excited to meet the baby, and if that means waiting a few more weeks, then that's ok. I'm hoping to reach 43 weeks pregnant, just for the banter. Fuck it, why not at this point eh? At least inside me he is a breeze to look after and my nipples are enjoying the prolonged peace. #namastebitches #euphoric #amfuckingwildaknow #moretimetoplaythemehospital #andsquat #andeat #andthealonetime #amazing #nipplesmarkedsafefromcracks #mybetisonamarchbaby
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