Hoping it would all be over within a few days, I didn’t really mind to get my mail a few days later than expected. But with the strike going on and with no solution in sight, I am getting more and more annoyed by the whole scenario.
In the six months since little L’s birth, I have barely been separated from my precious baby girl. There have been about ten evenings where I nipped out for an hour or two, leaving Big M behind to keep a close eye on the baby monitor. An easy task, as little L usually doesn’t wake until the wee hours, once mummy has tucked her in and kissed her good night. Then there have been about six times she spent an hour in the gym crèche, guarded by the lovely Jane and her staff. But all of a sudden, little L decided not to like staying there anymore, and Met Mum had to be called to her rescue via the intercom. So there it went, my tiny bit of me-time.
New York, New York. I completely forgot how hot New York can be in August.
Last Sunday was seeing little L and me attending the Christening of L’s babyfriend T. On our way to the reception, one of the guests asked me, if I was going to have little L baptised. Answering the question herself, she said ‘Well, I guess it’s better to have them baptised at an early age.’ Is it? I am not quite so sure.
July is my favourite month. Not only are the market stalls laden with juicy strawberries and sweet melons, it is also the month of summer holidays, ice cream and BBQs. Oh, and it is my birthday in July, too.
While thinking of what to do this year, I was remembering last year’s birthday celebrations. All very well planned in secret by Big M to surprise me, the celebrations turned out to be a lot calmer than arranged for – the champagne remained unopened and the sushi untouched, as we were hit by an even bigger surprise just the day before.
Have you ever been on a blind date with more than 17 participants? Well, I just came back from one. I was looking forward to this date with great anticipation, threw on my newest frock (Peggy ordered to buy one and off I went) and even applied some fake tanning lotion to my legs to look my best. Unfortunately, the self-tanning effect only kicked in a few hours after application, i.e. when lunch was served. I officially apologise to Being a Mummy to my left and Big M to my right for the biscuitty smell that developed slowly but steadily from underneath the table during mealtime.
Finally, I am not only allowed to drive again, I also feel capable of doing so for the first time in 10 weeks. In addition to the constant headache, sleep deprivation gives me the feeling of having a major hangover – without having had the fun of getting insanely wasted the night before. I don’t know if I am actually feeling better, or if I am just getting used to feeling spaced out all the time. What I definitely won’t get used to is being constantly weepy. It’s pathetic, really. There is not a single day where I won’t shed a few tears.
In my attempt to go over 42 weeks (despite UCLH hospital protocols and the likes), we went to have a check and the 3rd sweep at the post dates clinic on Monday, 6th. This is when they found out that the amniotic fluid had diminished. The consultant admitted that one of the sweeps could have caused a little whole and the leakage. Well, thanks for that! After a whole day of sitting around and waiting for scan appointments etc., I had to stay and finally agreed to be induced. The cost of a natural water birth seemed to be too high when paid for with a health threat for our unborn daughter.
To my own surprise, I slept like a baby the night before our dreaded Post Date Clinic appointment. Apparently Big M soaked up all my frustration and my anxieties, as he was rolling from one side to the other and muttering in his sleep. Honestly, I think I would have gone mad by now, if he wasn’t at my side.
The first time it hit me, I was walking down Islington’s Upper Street,
struggling under the weight of too many shopping bags, mobile phone in one hand, clutching files in the other.