Monthly Archives: June 2013

The Mother Movement – Who am I now I’m a mum?

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Yesterday was a shocker. I couldn't pinpoint the source; exhaustion? hormones? By breakfast time, I found myself in a puddle in my fella's arms sobbing about our relocation from London and missing, I mean truly heartbreakingly missing, my London friends. I crave a day with my eccentric, creative, daring, quirky, talented buddies and their wee sprogs....In fact, this post wasn't supposed to bang on so much about my emotional rollercoaster yesterday. In fact, this post wasn't supposed to bang on so much about my emotional rollercoaster yesterday. It was merely intended to illustrate that mothers can struggle. Not all mothers, but a lot of mothers. And not all the time, but a lot of the time, or sometimes or whatever the case may be. We struggle with identity, self-fulfillment, self-belief, career, motivation. It is a shared experience. I simply wanted to say that yesterday I was having one of those days, and at the end of it, quite by chance, a dear friend sent me this email: "You have to visit this website and read everything on it...xxxx..." And there it is. A website dedicated to mothers. Not a sappy, irritating, we're taken for granted kind of website. But an empowering, I've been there, let's bring women together and be powerful and acknowledge that sometimes this mother business is dull, sometimes we lose ourselves, lose who we are under the mother skin, sometimes we really struggle to make time for ourselves. Just go to it and read it. It speaks for itself.
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I suffer serious daymares now I’m a mum

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I’m sitting in my boy’s room in low light, breastfeeding him to sleep with Richard Hawley’s honey voice transporting us both into a past full of memories and into a future of sweet dreams. Suddenly, Maple snatches her hand out of mine, and dashes away from me across the road. I’m screaming for her to stop but she doesn’t listen and she carries on as a four wheel drive throttles down our quiet street and sends her tiny body flying through the air. I can do nothing. Everything is too late...You don’t want to read this right? I understand. It’s too much. It is far too much. I don’t want to swim in these foul waters either. I've read it back and I too think "this is too much. Nobody wants to go there." I’m hoping that the mere act of writing it all down might exorcise these hideous daymares from my mind.
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