a little perspective

It has been a big week. Emotionally, physically and mentally draining, it’s been a week I would rather forget.

It was a week where everything seemed to pile on at once. Between the stresses of our renovation, living out of a suitcase, having a crazy busy time at work and the whole “being 7 months pregnant” thing, there were also some very sad things playing out around us this past week.

I’m not going to go into detail but life can be tragic and unkind. And sometimes it has a way of slapping you sideways, forcing you to think with a little perspective.

That’s what it life did to me this week. Gave me some much-needed perspective about what is truly important.

Lately, it has been far too easy to get wrapped up in the daily grind of everything that we have going on. So easy to loose sight of how lucky we are and how simple our life truly is.

I have found myself, over the last few weeks, becoming highly irritated and stressed about the most superficial of things. When will my shower screen be measured? When will my tiling be done? When will the driveway be free of that pile of sand? When that timber floor will be ordered? When will my to-do list at work get shorter?

who-fucking-cares

Really, who cares? That’s not what’s important.

In the scheme of life and all its trials and tribulations, the things that tend to send me into a tizz really don’t matter at all. The shower screen will get measured, the tiling will get done, the driveway will be finished and the floor will be ordered. It may not be in the exact time frame that I had expected, but it will be done, and it will be fine. I just need some perspective.

Nothing we are going through at the moment is hard. Nothing is truly a struggle. Hard is knowing that your wife won’t make it to March. A true struggle is burying your son before he had a chance to live. Our daily stresses don’t matter. None of it is important. Love and life and health and family. Those are the things that matter. That is what’s truly important.

This is the perspective that this week has given me.

So I’m giving up sweating the small stuff. I’m giving up wasting energy on worrying about things like the renovation schedule and my to-do list. It’s just not important.

I’m saving my energy for kissing my man and hugging my family and growing our baby boy. I’m keeping my mind free for that which is important.

I’m taking the time each day to stop. Reflect. Appreciate. Just how lucky we are and how simple our life truly is.

So to those people whose stories this week have forced me to look at my life, firstly, I am truly sorry for what you are going through. Nothing I say can make it better. I wish words were enough to take away your pain and sorrow so we could shout them from every mountain and make the world right again. But no words can fix it.

Just know that your stories have touched people. And hopefully made others, as they have made me, look at life with a little new perspective.

Xx A

he has ears

So I’m not sure how it happened but I’m now almost 25 weeks into this journey.  The time has gone so incredibly fast that I would very much appreciate it if someone could tell me where the last 10 or so weeks have gone.  If the last 10 have gone so fast, the next 15 are no doubt going to be over and done with in a flash. Then, we have a child.

(stepping away from laptop to have a mild panic attack about that – be back soon)

Ok, so I’m back. Lets stop thinking about the impending arrival of this little person and get back on topic.

According to all of the pregnancy related crap you are supposed to read whilst growing something inside of you, my baby now has ears. This is awkward – for more reasons than one. But mostly – I swear. A lot. Too much many would say.

medium_712869704It’s no surprise to anyone that knows me that, as much as I can be a bit of a princess, I tend to have the mouth of a trucker. A pretty pissed off, drunk on cheap beer trucker.  It’s not something I intentionally do and to be honest I don’t think I even realize I’m doing it most of the time. There is no denying it though. I’m a total potty mouth.

I don’t use all of the swear words. You could say I’m a snob when it comes to my swearing. The C word is totally off limits and I will judge you if you say it in my presence. The F word however, is pretty much a staple and the S word, well, that’s not even a swear word anymore is it? Oh, it is. Well, the problem may be worse than first thought.

I don’t tend to swear with malice and I try to curb my swearing when in the presence of children (not sure if I have been successful but I’m sure my friends will let me know). I do my best to keep the swearing at work to a minimum, but I don’t think I’m very successful at that. My relaxed relationship with my parents makes it hard to watch my language around them, although Dad does still tell me off (never too old hey!) and I try to not swear within 5 minutes of meeting someone for the first time.

Even with all of those things in mind, I’m still a drunken trucker most of the time.

But now HE can hear me. I’m not silly enough to think that he can understand my words, but the knowledge that he has tiny, perfect ears that have never been exposed to the foul mouth of a drunken trucker, makes me want to keep them that way.

So mission number one in the quest to preserve my little guys ears – STOP SWEARING.

Well, cut down at least. Shit, lets be realistic, you have to run before you can walk.

xx A

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/kato_von_kiwi/712869704/”>KatovonKiwi</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

this is not a food baby

So I haven’t written for too many days.  Lets just say life went and got in the way and I needed to take a few days to focus on something more important.  Add in a quick trip to Albany for work and I find it’s suddenly been a week since I’ve written a word.

But, now I’m back. You can all let out a communal sigh of relief. Stop panicking. Its ok. I’m back on deck. Oh sorry….what’s that? You didn’t realize I had left…? Well, this is awkward.

Anyway. Whilst you were busy missing my thrice-weekly updates, I had a revelation. A pretty big one.

I’m. Having. A. Baby.

That’s right. A real life, can’t give back, person sized, fully-fledged baby. What the fuck?!

I think it started to hit me a few days ago when a friend gave birth to her little bundle of baby boy joy. I was sent a picture of the gorgeous little 2-hour-old creature and suddenly realized – one of those is going to come out of me.  Not only was it going to come OUT of me but it is currently IN me. Growing all that hair and limbs and starting to yawn and hear and all sorts of human like

This is not a food baby.

This is not a food baby.

things which don’t seem quite right when occurring inside my once empty mid region.

Insert mild panic attack and sudden return of nausea.

Now we are 19 weeks into this journey (where has that time gone by the way?) I guess those dots are all starting to connect. Those dots, that just a couple of months ago were floating around aimlessly in my head, were, in an instant connected, lined up, pieced together and slammed into my unsuspecting brain like a freight train.

I’m. Having. A. Baby.

Not a food baby. A real baby.

No doubt the photo wasn’t the only thing to trigger the connection with my uterus that occurred other day. The large bump starting to protrude through my clothes were my abs used to be is somewhat of a wake up call, and the rock melon sized boobs where my quite delightful C cups used to live are a definite sign that something is going on.

A baby. That’s what’s going on. An actual human being that in about 20 weeks or so is going to be here and need me.

I’m going to be a mum.

You have no idea how ridiculous that sounds in my own head. But its real and its happening and I actually starting to quite like the sound of it.

Don’t get me wrong. There is still a LOT I’m learning to come to terms with. A lot that seems bizarre and at times I still feel like I’m having an out of body experience and that some other poor woman is going to push this baby out at the end. But day-by-day, bit-by-bit, those dots are becoming a part of my being.

Baby. Mum. Me.

Not a food baby. A real baby. And he’s mine.

xx A