Molly: I know this one!
Molly enters the letters for "I Dreamed A Dream"
Me (not remembering which musical it was from): What is that song from?
Molly uses the phonetic pronunciation for Les Misérables, effectively, Lez Miz-ra-balls.
Cue much mirth.
A random blog of random musings, sometimes updated daily, sometimes every now and then...
How does Love speak?And only with that paragraph, and this entire rambling post, have I managed to prove to myself, you can't word how it feels. It just is.
In the faint flush upon the telltale cheek,
And in the pallor that succeeds it; by
The quivering lid of an averted eye--
The smile that proves the parent to a sigh
Thus doth Love speak.
You've not met me yet. I'm the one that keeps rubbing mummy's tummy, pushing you when you push out, talking to you, and the one that makes mummy squish you when I tickle her and make her contort around.
But we will met really soon. Well, people keep telling me it's "soon" but it feels like I've been waiting to meet you for the longest time. I've watched you growing from, well, when you were just a little ball of stuff up to the actual baby that you are now. But I've not seen you properly, not yet.
And I just want to give you a cuddle.
Of course, day one is the easy part for me. It's once you're home that the real work starts - but then, that's when the real fun and games start too. I can't wait to see your eyes focusing on mine, to see you smile, hear you giggle and chuckle... All the milestones are spread out ahead of us, and while they seem so so far away now, no doubt it won't be long that I'm sitting here telling the world about you being a grown up.
As with any new daddy, I am sure the worries and nerves I am feeling are all normal. Will I do everything right, will I be a good daddy, will I always be able to do things with you and for you. I want everything to be just right, perfect, and for you to be a happy little thing. And I hope I don't mess it up. I hope me being, well, me, doesn't make you decide that I'm not that great.
I know I am going to love you completely and utterly. When mummy is asleep and you're having a wiggle, I feel like that's just you and me, and I can't put into words how that makes me feel. That touch - even through skin - makes me want to burst with excitement and happiness.
Maybe that's why it's taking so long. I want you to be here NOW. I'm normally quite a patient person, but this is making me the very opposite of that.
So my little Tadpole, I am still here, waiting for you impatiently, feeling you getting bigger and bigger (and stronger and stronger if mummy's internal bits are any indication!) and counting down the days until you get to be cuddled and loved properly.
See you soon my gorgeous baby.
Lots of love,
I imagine the few of you that still read my blog are the ones that haven't clicked "block" or "hide" or "mute" or whatever else on my social media profiles of late. And believe me, I know exactly how I sound a lot of the time... When it's not random stuff, it's me, moaning and fed up about, well, me.
And this post is not much different.
Once again, I'm struggling to sleep very much. And this is with medication to help me sleep. I've been put back onto Amytriptyline which I hate, as past experience has proven it makes me exhausted and spacey. Well, not this time. I took a tablet at 10pm,and another at half past midnight. It's now a quarter to two in the morning and I'm still awake.
This time I suspect it's due to a hardcore 24-hour migraine that hit me Monday lunch time. I flaked on the sofa, thinking a nap would make it bugger off, but no... At half five that evening I went to bed, and woke up again at 3am. Then 10am. Then midday. And 2pm...
I got out of bed at seven this evening, had something to eat, and went back to bed at ten. I feel shit even now... Still have a headache, and now I feel bunged up...
On top of this (seriously, I know...) I've got a bloody tooth ache. Thanks to a dentist visit which was filled with needles and drilling to prepare a tooth for a crown, as the filling in it was too big apparently... My tooth wasn't hurting BEFORE, but it is now.
I'm so sick of this. All this. Me feeling crap all the time and not sleeping. Me feeling crap physically and mentally. My body hurting or being exhausted, my brain being filled with crap and worries...
I ended up being discharged from care under the Pain Management Service, thanks to my piece of shit brain. I had an appointment, which I remembered wrong, checked the appointment letter which I read wrong, and ended up going to the wrong place at the wrong time on the wrong day. So as I classed as a "No show" they discharged me. Back to square one, waiting for a re-referral. My brain sucks, I hate that it is so unreliable.
I CAN count on it to be paranoid. To over-think everything. To imagine the worst in every situation. To wind me up, stress me out and drag me down. I wish I had a period of quiet time, to chill out, recharge, run at my own pace and do my own thing. Every day just seems to be filled with STUFF and I struggle to keep up with it, so the next day has more STUFF, so I struggle more...
And on and on and over and over.
I'm tired, I don't feel well, and generally am sick of feeling and even looking the way I do. I'm sick of people telling me that "positive thinking" will cure me. I'm sick of people asking how am I as a way for them to tell me what's wrong with them without even acknowledging my reply. I usually just say "I'm OK" now, as people don't want to hear me detailing how my body feels trampled. I'm fed up being the one that has to message first to start a conversation, let alone writing long messages to people that only get an "ok" reply three hours later, or even better, no reply at all.
I probably sound like a whiny, moping brat to some of you, and that's fine... This being my blog and all. I just wish people understood how I feel 95% of the time. You don't even have to care that I feel like crap - just understand that I do.
I'm sure I could go on and on, but I won't. I'm just fed up of trying to make people get that I feel like complete crap most of the time. If you still don't get it or care, then I'm pretty sure you never will. And that's fine too - just don't roll your eyes and sigh when I moan about it here or anywhere else.
You don't know me. Not to see, anyway. You've definitely heard me, and I am one of the fools that puts my hand over you while your mummy sleeps at night, but you've not seen me. Not yet.
I've seen you, though. I saw you before you were really anything, and I've seen you when you were ever so tiny. And just a few times, I have felt you nudge against my hand while you wiggle around inside mummy.
And tomorrow, I will see you again. But this time, I am going to be very nervous. Tomorrow, we are going to see a special doctor. Part of my brain - the logical part - keeps telling me that there is no real reason to see this special doctor. That I am just worrying over nothing. That it's going to be a waste of time. But the other part of my brain - the bigger, over-powering, illogical part that makes all my decisions and sets out my thoughts...
That's the part that's winning.
You see, ten years ago, your big sister Bethany left. You will hear all about her as you grow, I promise. But because of what was wrong with her, the illogical part of my brain is now screaming and kicking and banging against its bars. And tomorrow, we are going into London for the special doctor to make sure your heart and tummy is OK.
And that, my beautiful little Tadpole, is why I will be a nervous wreck for the next 24 hours. I've never touched you, you've never seen me, and I've never heard you make a sound, but I am filled with so much love and worry for you, I am close to bursting. And that we are going to see a Fetal Cardiologist is killing me on the inside, because I am so scared of the What If that my brain is doing. It doesn't mean I will love you any less, it just means I will have to be bigger and braver than ever, and hold your hand, and your mummys hand, and know that with these special doctors, you will be in the best possible care ever.
That doesn't mean I won't be worried. Or scared. Or angry. But I will be there for you every single step of the way. And I will love you as much as it is possible to love someone, if not more.
Logically, I know that you are going to be fine. Logically, I know that the doctor will check you from head to toe tomorrow - and aside from being able to see your beautiful face on the screen, I know tomorrow will tell us nothing more than you are growing into a big strong little person.
But for the next 24 hours, please excuse your daddy, and his crazy, strange, neurotic behaviour. I might sit holding you more than normal, or drifting off to places in my head. But logically, I know that this time tomorrow, I will be laughing at how silly I am, and how I got so worked up over nothing.
Night night baby, with love,