My little dude had a rocking weekend riding the carousel and sleeping for 12 hours straight- don’t hate me. I’ve probably just jinxed myself anyway. Feeling slightly more chilled and positive, it’s no wonder I woke up this morning and made peanut butter cookies for breakfast. Which subsequently meant that a boring old Monday wasn’t so bad. Hope yours was a good one. x
The question always lingers as they watch Georgie: So ready for another one? I’ve caught myself giving various answers to this dubious question. There’s ‘someday’, ‘in two years’ and then there’s ‘never.’ Needless to say, the latter is met with a sad look and the inevitable ‘why?’ I instantly regret being so honest. But it is true. A lot of the timeI am happy with just the three of us. I just don’t see another baby fitting into this picture. I can’t say I particularly miss those first few months, the non-stop breastfeeding, sleepless nights and the overall haze. Georgie was a restless baby, catching me completely off-guard even though I had cared for my sister’s children. It scared me, to be honest. I didn’t expect it to be so hard. Everyday, I would grieve the loss of my independence. I can’t say I was depressed but then again, many new mummies are but just don’t know what the hell is going on.
There are moments when I look at Georgie and fight back the tears. I think the intensity of my feelings for this little human being has literally made it impossible for me to contain myself. It is out of my hands. I am so immensely proud of him. And myself for becoming a better person. Everyday, every action I take is geared towards bringing out the best in both of us. Whatever that may be. A walk in the park, a nice gesture. I try. I pull myself up and I feel focused. He has given me strength this one. Thank you, my darling.
