Survived being the operative word here.
Sunday was a day of great joy in the Warwick household as Wills rolled over. Our clever little man. He naturally waited for the 30 second window when neither of us were with him, we entered the living room to see him on his front looking ever so slightly bewildered. We might have cried a bit.
This week has been busy, I’ve had something to amuse me most days, hubs had an extended weekend so we had a jaunt to a park. Where we were swarmed upon. By ladybirds. There were hundreds of them. Crawling all over us and Wills. It was horrific. I’ll tell you what else was horrific.
Something else new mums aren’t really given adequate information on, post partum periods. In the FOUR I’ve had since giving birth (not including the fortnight of daily bleeding) I’ve noticed they are now incredibly painful (like labour but without the fun of gas and air) and very heavy. In addition to worrying that if I sneeze, I might drown someone I seem to be experiencing hormones like never before. Hubs has started hiding anything pointy and avoiding eye contact.
So this the lowlight of this week was definitely not coping with Wills incessant screaming and telling him I didn’t like him.
I said those words.
I don’t think I’ve ever regretted anything more. I cradled him, told him I loved him more than anything and cried. Repeating I’m sorry I’m so sorry through sobs. And that’s what hubs came home to. His wife holding his now quiet son, crying almost hysterically.
And I cried when I told my sister what I’d done. And my mum. I feel sick thinking about it. How could I say that to him?
You see the problem with people bleating about having children being the best thing in the world and telling people without them ‘you don’t know what love is until you’ve had children’ (Something I will never say to the childless), is that no one thinks to tell you how absolutely shit having children can make you feel. How absolutely inadequate you feel. And like you are the only parent on the planet who is completely fucking it up. Yes I love my son, I adore him. I know every contour of his beautiful face, I know his scent , his cry, I know the exact smile I’ll get from him in the morning. I know which of his toys he likes the most. But even with all the love I feel for him, sometimes coping with day to day life is incredibly tough.
Parenting really it taking the rough with the smooth, sometimes the rough greatly outweighs the smooth.
In other news:
Both the cats have taken an interest in William. Wills seems to enjoy a combination of smacking/grabbing Captain. Captain seems to enjoy this too.
Wills has had his last set of immunisations until he’s one. *sighs with relief*
Sophie the Giraffe is officially William’s favourite toy.