We have been doing photos at a different location across the beaches for 11 weeks now. It has become a weekly routine that while I get dressed and become increasingly more upset at how little clothes I own that actually fit me, Anthony gets Evelyn dressed in something completely daggy. I come out in an outfit that will suffice for another week and I roll my eyes at Evelyn and march her back in her room and dress her again. While I do this and my hair and makeup, Anthony will pack some snacks and the camera. Then we will be on our way out the door. Evelyn see's the camera now and becomes excited, knowing that she is going to spend the next 2-3 hours exploring a new local beach and walking up and down with her Mama, while Daddy follows close behind. I love these days the most. I love this precious time that we are spending together as a family of three. Time spent to relish in each others company. Time spent to embrace each other and celebrate all that we are now and all that we are yet to become. So this week, when we were not able to make our location shoot I felt a little disappointed. Like we were missing something. But for this week, my sanity comes first and the thought of walking up and down a beach while my insides felt like they were about to drop out of me is just not my idea of fun. Pregnancy is hard. When I was pregnant with Evelyn I had morning sickness for the whole 9 months, that lasted all day. I had carpel tunnel and I had sciatica. But that pregnancy was a breeze. I never truly felt pregnant. Evelyn was always laying in the right way that I never felt her in my nether region. Sex was overly enjoyable. In fact I was aching for it, to the point that it hurt. Walking, other than the sciatica, was no real problem. Getting in and out of bed was simple. It was easy. And I would give anything to have that pregnancy again this time. But this time, this time it is so hard and I finally understand all the complaints that I never understood. Sex is not fun! Are you kidding me with that right now? My entire vagina feels and looks swollen and I swear Jelly's foot could be right there. Don't come near me right now. Don't even so much as glance at me. Because sex is off the cards Mister! I am walking like I am 40 weeks pregnant. There is nothing graceful about this pregnant body. I walk with my hands supporting my lower back because it might just cave in at any given moment and I waddle. I waddle because with every single step I take I feel like my body is going to be torn in half from my vagina up. Last night was so bad after just two measly steps that I stood frozen in the middle of the lounge room for ten minutes, too afraid to move an inch. I was on the verge of asking Anthony to carry me to bed, until I manned up and made a run for it. Speaking of bed, I cant get out of the damn thing. I have to roll my legs out and the heave myself upwards and don't even get me started on getting out of the car! I am only 23 weeks pregnant. How am I going to survive the next 17 WEEKS? I am starting to gain weight, a lot. Unfortunately for me, when I begin to gain weight it goes into my face and I absolutely hate looking at my face when it begins to blow out. So my body confidence that was so strong last week is beginning to falter. Whoever said pregnancy was beautiful and graceful and joyous was a liar! Or never been pregnant. Or maybe even a man! This, is none of those things. This is hard. And unattractive. And a little bit funny to watch. Because the truth is, I probably had the exact same complaints about my pregnancy with Evelyn, but after the deed was done and I was holding that beautiful girl in my arms I began to miss the pregnancy a little bit. With every day that passed, I wanted to be pregnant again. I know it. Anthony knows it and you probably know it too. That once this pregnancy is over, I will forget all the bad and remember the good and begin to crave a third time round! Because, truth be told, although it is hard and uncomfortable and tiring, it truly is amazing... isn't it? I mean, only 9 months and then I get this bountiful beautiful baby? This whole new life that was created by the fibres of the one I love and myself. A whole person that is completely ours, to mould and shape and teach. It really is incredible and it really is worth all of this. Once it is over. Jelly, you are tearing my body apart, quite literally. But I will give you my body and I will give you my heart just to get you here with us. Take all that you need because once you are here, I will have all that I need. We cannot wait to create new family routines to celebrate being a family a four. We cannot wait for you. But we will... just 17 more weeks baby, then I get to see your precious face. Be still, we will be together soon. Its you and me babe, I will fight my way through the pain just to hold your hand
Marriage has never seemed to stand for much in my life. I see, or hear, of people standing before the people they love and trust, declaring their undying love for each other, promising to love and support each other until "death do us part" and yet, 10 years, 20 or 30 years later, they are walking away from each other. Not because death did they part, but because their undying love, had died. Because they believed they had nothing left, they tried all they could to make it work but it just didn't work. Or, like in most cases I have been witness to, the man fell in love with another woman. I come from a line of broken families, forgotten vows and broken promises. I do not know what a successful marriage looks like, I do not know how a Mum and a Dad are supposed to work together. I have only ever seen them work against each other. Marriage, forever, promises, undying love... those sentiments were always meaningless to me. I grew up to not believe in marriage, at the hand of my own teachings. I never wanted to put myself in the situation where I could be promised the world, where I put my faith, my future, in the hands of a man. My experience was that once you put your future in the hands of that man, they just took it away from you. They tore your world down around you. They promise you love, support, a life, a family and a home. Until one day, when they meet someone else and that promise is broken, forgotten. You are forgotten and therefore broken. They have the power to give you security and then to take it all away from you and leave you with nothing. Nothing but children to care for and no home to live in, while they go and make family somewhere else, without you and without your children. It happened to my Mum. It happened to her Mum. I feared marriage and love. I despised having a promise made to me, for fear of it being broken. To make a promise to someone, in my eyes, is a guarantee. An absolute. An unbreakable bond. Yet, throughout my life I have had many promises made and broken. How can you say those words so freely, so loosely? I hold so much importance to those words, to the point of it being unrealistic. Promises can be made and they can be broken, life sometimes gets in the way. But in my life, I am not sure I have ever had a promise kept. I don't want to hear someone make me a promise. I don't want to feel the break. Of the promise, or of my heart. But then one fateful night, I met a man. A man that I truly believe was delivered to me by the good fortune of my guardian angels. A man that I was made to meet and he was made to change me. Change my life and my beliefs. And he has, so very much so that marriage is now something that I crave. Something that I need. Something that is just so truly important to me that my heart aches for the day that I get the chance to stand before the ones I love and trust, declaring my undying love for Anthony. My heart aches to make a promise, whispered between our souls, that I will forever carry his heart in the warmth of my own. A promise, etched into my being, that he is made for me and I am made for him. A promise, shared between two people, that no one will ever understand, no one will ever know just how very sincere those words will be, just how very unbreakable my promise to him will be. Anthony has never promised me the world. He has never promised much. I have never had to hear that dreaded word. That may not sound sweet and romantic to you, but for me, I will eternally be grateful. Because in his lack of verbal words, my heart hears his heart. There is an unspoken bond, a promise between two bodies, that we will always keep each other warm at night. A knowingness, that although he does not speak the promise, he feels it. A belief, in him. A trust, that he will not tear my world down. And a faith, that I can believe it all. I have so much to learn, about a man and a woman sharing their lives together, raising a family together. There was no man raising my family. I am forever teaching myself to share, to trust, to allow and nurture his role in my life and in the life of my children. But, I want to learn those lesson's. Because I want to keep my promise.
On Wednesday this week I found myself sobbing hysterically on the lounge, phoning Anthony at work and pleading with him to please come home and help me. To please watch Evelyn while I took myself to be checked. When he was unable to excuse himself from his work commitments I couldn't control my disappointment or my tears. But after a good cry, I picked myself up and I packed Evelyn in the car and she was going to come with me, it wasn't going to be pleasant. I knew what to expect as this would not be the first time I visited the Drs for this very reason. You see, on Tuesday, I started passing blood in my bowel movements. This isn't too unusual for me. I was diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) back in 2007. I went through almost two years of testing. I was tested for every single bowel condition you could possibly imagine I was finding myself in incredible pain and always passing a bowl of blood. They were unable to find any real cause to this so put it down to IBS. I haven't had this symptom for a very long time. But on Tuesday morning it started. Unusually, it didn't stop. My need to go to the bathroom increased to 6 times a day and each time, always a bowl full of blood. I began to worry that this may not be related to my IBS but to my pregnancy. So I took myself to the Drs, knowing full well they will want to check for internal haemorrhoids. However, this particular Dr did not listen to a word I had to say and sent me out the door with the diagnosis of Gastro, not checking my baby, not caring for my distressed state. Knowing full well that I did not have gastro, as I had no symptoms other than blood, I cried some more. Then I called my midwives and rushed into the hospital. All this time, I was worried that Jelly was leaving me. Leaving my body. My life. All this time I cried, hysterically. I was on my own, I was terrified and my Daughter was terrified and there was nothing I could do to make it all ok, for either of us. I turned up to the hospital and rushed up to the birthing centre where the midwives opened their arms, to me and Evelyn, they hugged us. They took us to the delivery room where there was a bed and privacy. They organised for a Dr of the hospital to come visit me. They calmed me and reassured me. They were gentle and caring. Any doubts I had about going to this hospital previously (it is a newly opened maternity ward) had now parted and I just knew that I was in the hands of women who care, who nurture and love. I knew that I had made the right decision my putting the life of Jelly in the hands of this hospital and these women. The Dr did the check that I had already prepared myself for, there were no haemorrhoids, which was as I expected. There was not immediate reason to why I was passing so much blood. She checked Jelly, let me hear the heart beat, for as long as I needed. She assured me there is no harm to Jelly. She wrote me a list of Drs whom she trusts so that I never have to go back to the one who treated me so appallingly. She cared. In the end, all that stress and worry and concern was unnecessary and the blood stop within the next few hours. I am almost certain that it was my IBS misbehaving as a result to the last few weeks of emotions and stresses. Throughout those two-three days I started to prepare myself for life without Jelly and it is not a life I care have. I am very sensitive to the thought that my pregnancies will not end with a baby and so my reaction may have been a little over the top. But I was unable to stop my mind from taking me to that dark place. In those moments, I realised just how much I love this baby. Just how ready I am to have Jelly be a part of our lives, in our arms, disrupting our sleep and making themselves an integral part of our family. I may not be able to see Jelly, but I cannot see a life without Jelly. Jelly, since you started growing within me, you started becoming a part of our little family. Your presence is already felt, my arms ache to hold you, my body yearns to feel the warmth of your body. Fearing the loss of you helped me to realise just how much I love you and how much I want you and need you here with us. I cannot wait for that day. You will give our family what we don't already have, you will complete us. Its you and me babe, together forever :: The castle in these photos is found at North Head in Manly, it holds many sentimental memories for me. The first being stories that my Dad used to tell me as we sat on my Ma's bed looking across the beaches and at the big gold castle. He used to tell me that this castle was enchanted by fairies, that they would make their way down to the castle along the path of the moon on the ocean. One night he took my sister and I to this castle and raised us over his head and we touched the side of the gold castle. We were to be forever graced and guarded by the fairies. Forever safe, under their watch. :: Years later my work held their Christmas party within the walls of the Enchanted Castles. I dressed myself up as a fairy, in a black and white dress with a fairy skirt. I was like a little girl fulfilling her dreams. On that night, as I danced on the dance floor, I knelt down to pick up my bag, I look up to find standing there with his hand reached out for me to take - Anthony. Those fairies bought him to me, forever keeping me safe under their watch and letting me know that this man, is the man for me. Fate would have it.
Before I gave birth to my Daughter I used to look at Mother's putting the dummy back in their babies mouths before they even had a chance to squeak and I used to judge. I am ashamed to admit it but I always thought to myself 'that is such lazying parenting'. I was never going to grow up and have a child who depending on the dummy. Not ever. From the moment Evelyn was born it was clear that she was generally a sucky baby. Trying to wrap her little mouth around anything that presented itself. She was also born a very bad sleeper, having a lot of difficulty drifting off to sleep and remaining asleep. Before long I went out and purchased my first dummy. I decided then and there that although I may be giving her a dummy, she will never use that dummy outside of nap times. Except for those select few times in the early weeks when I needed to do my makeup for a night out and only had 5 minutes left. Since I made that decision, I have been true to my word and that dummy does not leave the perimeters of the cot. Evelyn became a wonderful sleeper. I was able to put her down each night without a peep. Before 18 months I could not tell you the last time she awoke over night. Mostly she would sleep without the dummy, but she used it as her wind down routine. Each morning when I pull her out of bed she knows to 'ta for mummy' and she places the dummy in my hand. She has never cried for it and she has never tried to sneak it into her days. In the last few months I was beginning to notice, each morning, that there was a ring of hair wrapped around the dummy. Every day I would cut the hair away from it, give it a wash and return it to her bed without so much as a second thought. Until the hair on the top of her head began to thin. So I started to investigate and I found that a part of her wind down routine was to suck the dummy, then run it through her hair and put it back in her mouth. The rough rubber would just pull on her hair and break it, or rip it completely out of her head. I was devastated that my girl's beautiful hair was being ruined so I had a decision to make. I really was not ready to take the dummy away from her as it had become a part of her nightly routine and it was not causing any harm. But I decided that now was a better time than ever. So with great hesitation, one Sunday night, I put her down to bed without her dummy. The first few days were fine. It would take 10 to 15 minutes each night for her to settle, but she drifted off into slumber without too much hysteria. Until we sent her to her Grandparents for a couple of nights. There, she found a dummy. She came home a spawn of the devil himself! Her whole persona changed. She was no longer my gentle, calm little girl. But rather, she was full of attitude and frustration. She was quick tempered. She refused to sleep... at all. No more day naps and not going to sleep until 9-10pm at night. Waking up earlier than ever before and often waking throughout the night. There was no solution I could do to get her to go to sleep. No amount of playing, running, swimming would tire her out. No amount of cuddling, patting or rocking would help her to drift away. She was angry. I am embarrassed to say it but it actually did not occur to me that this whole shift in her happiness could possibly be the responsibility of the missing dummy. My Daughter, who never cried for the dummy. My Daughter, who feel asleep beautifully for the first 4 nights without the dummy. How could it possibly be the dummy that she was so dreadfully missing? This week I decided that enough was enough. I decided that I would give her back that dummy, just to see. She had been in and out of bed for three hours on this day, me trying to coax her to sleep, pleading ever so desperately for her to just please go to sleep. I laid her back in her cot and I presented the dummy. Her face light up with absolute glee, she smiled and she clapped her hands. I placed it in her mouth and asked her to go to sleep and closed the door behind me. I did not hear another word from her, for two hours! When I checked on her, I found her like this... When she woke up she was standing there, dummy in hand, literally squealing with delight. In a matter of two hours my devil child had found her happiness again. She was no longer mad or frustrated. She spent the rest of that day with serious 'Mum Love' eyes. I have never, in my life, seen anyone be so thankful!
A wave of relief washed over me. Followed quickly by despair and a lot guilt and a touch of embarrassment. How on earth did I think it was ok to put either of us through that torturous month? It made us both miserable. We were both unrested and highly strung. Stroppy with each other and quick to get upset over the smallest things. A month. An entire month I allowed this ludicrous episode to continue. For what? I didn't want to take it away from her and she definitely didn't want to say goodbye to it. All because she was ruining her hair. Hair which will grow back. I wont get that month back. I have learnt from this, that all things run their due course and not to rush them. Neither of us were ready for this decision and it turned out to be one of the worst Mothering decisions I have made to date. I will let her give me the dummy in the future, when she is good and ready. For both our sanity's!
I was born a restless soul, my body never truly at ease when in the one place for any length of time. My mind has always craved change, at its most peaceful when surrounded by spontaneity. It was never my desire to grow old and marry a man, have a family or own a home. It was always my dream to travel the world, the country, and leave just my footprints behind. When I was just a young girl my parents divorced. In the divorce my Mum moved to Forster and took my brother, sister and I with her. We lived in two addresses before settling in our new forever home. I think it was at this time, that my love to move and change was born. Before long my life uprooted again and I was a 14 year old girl living out of home. In that time, I never had one true address, I never stayed in one place for too long. As scared and lonely as I felt, living life solo, my soul was at its most content. I didn't belong to anyone, I had no roots and I was not tied to any belongings. I was at peace, I was free. There was no one to answer to except myself. I was carefree and my life was my own. I have never had a desire to find a home, find somewhere that I belong. For me, not belonging, was my normal. Growing up, I was never a part of a friendship circle, always the girl who skipped between groups. Befriending one here and there. My life was never full of people, I had my person and that was all that I needed. As a young girl I never dreamed of being married, in fact, I despised the idea. I did not want to put my faith in one person and have my life forever joined to someone else's. I never knew what I was missing, I was not aware of the love that you can experience, the sweet warm embrace of acceptance... of belonging. When you do not know that such emotions exist, you don't yearn for them. I had spent my whole life without the taste for a home. Until I met Anthony. Then my views changed and my expectations of this life grew. We created something really special, for me. With him I learnt that roots are not to be afraid of. With him I learnt that belonging is warm. With him I learnt that I wanted a home, that I needed a home. We created a life together, a life I never could have envisioned myself living. We created life, very own child. Yet, while I felt settled with him, I never felt settled with life. I was still looking for that place that I could call home, that place that feels like home. Since our latest move I slowly become more content. I do not rush out the door every morning and make myself busy until the afternoon. I take life slowly, happy to spend the time at home. I walk more gently. In the last 12 months, I am loosing that sense of restfulness, that desire for change and spontaneity. I no longer yearn to travel the world, I ache to just be. To be at home. Because, now I have one. I have found a place that I belong. I have found people I love and who just so happen to love me back. Sometimes the happiness I feel when I look at these new friends is so overwhelming that I walk away and I cry. This new life I am living doesn't make sense to me. To have people care for me with such a fierce love, to have them want to be with me, for them to call me, it is something I have never experienced. I have never allowed myself to have that. Each day I sit back and I look at this life I have created for myself and I truly know that I am blessed. I have found a man whom has changed my entire belief of the world and relationships and marriage (and I don't resent that change). I have a Daughter whom I would give the world and loves me unconditionally. I have friends who chose to be with me and who show me every day that they want to be. I have a home that I walk into and I finally feel that relief. My life has taken a turn that I never imagined it would. I have become settled, content, at ease... happy. I no longer want to pack up and leave my life behind. I want to be stuck, right in the middle of it, living it every day. My soul, only now, truly knows what it feels like to be content - when it belongs. My restfulness has never been about a need for change in the physical sense, it has always needed a change in the life I was living, it needed this life... ...this warm sweet embrace.
You know what I have been thinking to myself all this week is that if we happen to go into labour early with Jelly, like we did with Evelyn, then I only have 17 weeks left of being pregnant. When really, I have 19. But as this week has bought with it insomnia and an uncomfortable body, the thought of it only being 17 weeks left to go is somewhat comforting. 17 weeks is just a blip of time. In fact, so is 19 weeks! Before I know it, Jelly will be here and I will be missing this baby bump! This week has been exhausting, for more than just one reason. Whilst Evelyn has decided that she no longer needs to sleep so has my body. I am on the verge of collapsing to my feet and every night that I lay my aching body down I breathe a sigh of deep relief. But as I strategically place all my pillows around me to settle into a night of supported sleep, my mind decides that it does not agree with my body. So as my body lays and rests, my mind and I toss and turn. We battle with hopes and dreams, fears and uncertainties. Once we drift off into slumber we are awoken by the most terrifying of nightmares I could possibly concur up. Never a full nights sleep, but always a rested body. My body is beginning to really feel pregnant. It wasn't until these last few days that I noticed that my tummy was really starting to grow to accommodate baby Jelly. Over this weekend people are noticing that I am pregnant, no longer offering me a beer or a wine, forgetting that this seasoned body can no longer say yes. Not only is my tummy expanding but my back is crumbling, my sciatica saying hello and my pelvis is aching. Jelly is sitting in a position very unlike Evelyn, who I never felt. Jelly pushes down, making me painfully away that there are two tiny baby feet pushing on my cervix. Lately I have been thinking a lot about how my life will change once there are two little babes in my home. How I will change as a Mother, my approach and my ability. There is absolutely nothing I love more in this world than being someones Mummy. Hearing those words. Having someone look up to me and love me so unconditionally. I want to be able to do all I can to ensure that I provide my children with the best possible lives they can have. I want them to feel loved. I want them to never have any doubts. I want them to feel safe and secure. I want them to know that I am living my life to ensure that their lives are all that they deserve, are all that I wish I had more of. Providing love to that extent is beautiful, but it is tiring, to even just one child. I wonder, am I capable of giving myself to more than one? There is nothing I want more than for my children to know and feel love, to its umpth degree. It is my journey in life to ensure that they will forever know that they belong. Always and forever. My love will never falter. My arms will never close, only around them in a sweet embrace. My door forever open. My children have a home with me, in me, until the day I am no longer here. Jelly, you live within me now and in 19 weeks time you will live, held in my arms but your heart will never leave my heart. Because that is where you belong. I love you now and I will love you tomorrow, until there are no more tomorrows. You are mine. Its you and me babe, where ever we go, we will have a home
Evelyn is only 19 months old today, but in the month just past it feels like she has grown a year. Right before my very eyes I have watched my baby girl become a little person, full of personality and strength. As each day passes I am watching her become more independent and capable. I am watching her become more and more like her Mama ~ head strong and stubborn. These last few weeks have been a battle of the wits, her pushing her boundaries and limits resulting in me trying to find new ones. Each day over the past three or four weeks we have fought with each other for her to sleep, day and night. We have struggled through meal time, breakfast, lunch and dinner. We have wrestled, me, her and the car seat. It has been exhausting and chaotic. But it has been challenging and exhilarating. With each battle we fight, lose or win, I learn just how very able she is. I have learnt that she knows more than I have ever given her credit for. I have learnt that in her wee 19 month old body, she has the most incredible strength. I have learnt that what I have always been told was shyness, truly is nothing other than her making a decision ~ to trust or to distrust. I have learnt the power of her screams, to crumble me into tears, but also the magic of her laughter, to cure any bad mood. I have learnt that I can and will continue to be mad with her, but that my love and adoration for her will absolutely, never fade or waver. Evelyn has always be weary of new people, especially of men. But in this last month I have watched her open her heart to many of the men I trust to be in my life. I have watched her adopt my closest friends as her own. I have watched her bond form and strengthen with her little friends. She no longer stands to the wayside, but rather, she initiates conversations and cuddles. She takes people by the hand and walks them on an adventure, just the two of them, leaving my side and making her own way in life. Making her own decisions. The tantrums are intense but the cuddles and kisses are twice as strong. The screaming is impossible but her words and communication skills are beyond belief. Her ability to make herself heard and understand is indescribable. Her vocabulary is growing every day and I cannot believe I ever doubted that she would learn words. She is a girl of routine and process. No longer allowing anyone to do said routines but having to do them herself. Each day starts with throwing all of her bed buddies out of the cot and walking them out to the lounge room for the day. She then goes to the cupboard and chooses a bowl and passes me the milk. After breakfast she places her dishes in the dishwasher and washes her hands and wipes her face. Each time we arrive home, she takes the keys and locks the car, unlocks the house, closes the door and puts the keys in the bowl. She wants to be grown up. She wants to do for herself. She wants to do as her Mama does. Life as a Mama to a 19 month old independent, head strong Evelyn who refuses to sleep is the most exhausting thing I have ever done, but it is the most challenging and the most rewarding. I read something earlier today that said, something along these lines, you will not remember the nights that you slept. And I believe that! As tiring as the days and nights have been, we have made some of the most amazing memories and experienced places and things that we other wise wouldn't have had the time to do. Evelyn, before this last month, I never could have imagined myself becoming stroppy with you. But in the last month you have pushed me to extremes, both good and bad and for every moment that I felt stroppy with you there were bigger, better moments where my love for you exploded and just doubled in size... again and again. You are becoming a young girl. My young girl. I get to watch you grow and develop. I am blessed to watch you find your feet on this world. I am blessed to have the chance to experience your life by your side. You are my best friend, my shadow. I cannot imagine my life any other way and I truly could not choose a better best friend! You are everything to me, you show me the way, you give me strength and inspiration, you encourage me to find the light and beauty in every situation. You remind to smile more and laugh louder. You make me play more. You make life so much... greater, than I ever could have known it could be. You are a true beauty, a true star and I get to spend every single day with you! How lucky I am! I love you, forever my baby girl xx **Photo's taken by a beautiful woman named Jo**
