I can admit it now. Now that my babies fill every part of me with love, and their cries pierce my heart. Now that they are a year old, and the past is firmly in a box tied with ribbon at the back of my mind. I can admit that I didn’t love them. Labour […]
Thinking
Packing life's suitcase
I have packed more boxes than a removal firm; stuffed more bags than a check-out girl; closed more suitcases than a frequent flier. I’ve packed hospital labour bags with intrepidation and excitement, cramming in a hundred things I’d never use but couldn’t be without. I’ve packed boxes to move house, wrapping each piece of my […]
Big girls don't cry
In a recent post about going back to work I alluded briefly to the Enhanced Tear Duct, which is surreptiously inserted by obstetricians between stages two and three of labour, along with the Guilt Gene and the Total Fuckwit chip. Bursting into tears whilst on maternity leave is fairly acceptable, if not expected of a […]
Costa Boy
On Christmas Eve I went to Leamington Spa. It was a snap decision, taken somewhere between picking play-doh out of the carpet and explaining once again to my son that, despite appearances to the contrary, Father Christmas, Jesus and Noah are not the same person. I needed a present for my husband; one which would […]