Just me

My first pregnancy threw me into turmoil, this one is healing me.

I never had any nice photos of me pregnant. I never wanted to be defined by it.

I didn't want to be seen as 'just a mum'. That was a big fear. And being pregnant is that fear at its most vulnerable.

Now I know different.

My girl is the biggest source of pride in my life, and I now know that if I'm to be defined by any one thing I'd choose that.

And here I am growing another person who I know I will be just as proud of. So when I had the chance to record that, I jumped at it. A huge jump for me.

Here I am. Me. A glamourous version, anyway.

32 weeks pregnant.

In the hands of a person who is like every other in my life: looking for the best in me. If I let them.

Proud of myself, my body, my children.

At peace.

The hugest thanks to the amazingly talented Ulyana, who knows exactly how to tell a story with her camera. It means so much to me that she gave me the chance to do this.

Ever tried something you don't understand?

Pregnancy hormones sometimes leave me with an inability to talk about anything terribly serious or important. I'm in too much of a Pollyanna state of mind. So I'm rolling with it - and talking about weird things I don't really understand today.

*

"The pain is coming from an increase of energy in your gall bladder meridian."

I nodded as though that sentence made any sense at all. Sitting in the tiny room, futon mattress on the floor, candles burning and relaxing music playing, I have to admit it sounded kind of normal and rational. Still, I had a sense that after this hour, back in my real life, I'd laugh about the ridiculousness of it. Clearly I was in pain because I have a baby putting pressure on various parts of my body - end of story. However.

She had checked my pulses to find this information: slightly too much energy in one meridian, not enough in another, and a vague request from me for help with pain and swelling. At worst, though, these sessions were giving me time to feel I was looking after myself - and sometimes that's enough to make you feel better.

I've had a few people helping me out with pain during this pregnancy: my Pilates instructor has been amazing in tailoring every session to how I'm feeling, and I was seeing a wonderful massage therapist. Only the latter abandoned me recently. (She left her place of employment, but I got all dramatic about it.) I thought maybe I could manage without the massages - turns out I couldn't. Not very well, anyway.

I defy anyone to be at their best and most positive when they're in pain.

I was about to ring another massage place when an update popped up on Facebook: a place I used to go to has a new Shiatsu therapist. Shiatsu, an ancient Japanese pressure point therapy, is one of my favourite things in the world. It's about all over wellbeing - body, mind, diet - and I love the idea that a problem with one part of the body is looked at holistically, rather than the modern medicine theory of 'here's a cream to put on that spot'. (The two can work well hand-in-hand; I'm not suggesting turning my back on modern medicine.)

So I rang this lady, booked in for the next day, and felt a bit spooked that the universe - or the internet - had timed it all so well.

Over two weeks and two sessions, the most amazing results.

Eczema, gone. Psoriasis, better than it's been since it started affecting me years ago. I didn't go there for my skin conditions, but it shows how much these things stem from other issues.

Swelling and fluid retention in my legs: gone. By this stage of my pregnancy with Abbey I had to buy wider shoes to fit my feet, I no longer really had ankles and my legs were restless, semi-numb, swollen and uncomfortable. It was heading that way again - but this treatment has absolutely shown my body that it can put its fluid retention in its pipe and smoke it. (So NER.)

Pain: barely appearing since the second session. I couldn't tell her where the pain really was - just a vague pointing around my lower back, hips and legs - but after the 'gall bladder meridian' thing, her first touch was in the exact spot that it all stemmed from. And the relief I feel is indescribable.

Whatever it is, however strange it sounds, it's working for me in ways I couldn't have believed. I did laugh about it afterwards and poke a little fun at it all. But secretly, maybe I have to believe the weirdness - or at least just enjoy that it's making me feel so good.

Calm and proud of it

This time with Steve away is teaching me something.

I'm okay.

I've been battling with myself over the last couple of years. Second guessing every judgement call, questioning every single thing I do or don't do, looking for a way to do the best by everyone.

But never myself.

The biggest cause of anxiety for me was a perception of being selfish. If I was doing something purely for my own benefit, I'd panic about it - it was time wasted while I should have been with others, it was bad judgement, I must be wrong, I was putting everyone out of their own lives for no good reason. I'd look for someone - anyone - to reassure me that I was doing the right thing, and then not believe them anyway.

I needed so much reassurance that I started to worry I was losing the things I was proudest of about myself: independence and strength. That I couldn't be alone anymore.

It's taken me this long to realise it wasn't about being by myself - it was about doing things for myself. Being selfish. How dare I? Who did I think I was?

The only thing I can think of that's changed this is practice.

Do something once. Twice. Then again. A funny thing happens: it becomes less momentous and more normal.

Doing things purely for my own good or enjoyment has become part of my new normal.

So I went for a photo shoot - just me, nothing for any of my family to gain. Cool.
So I asked for help with Abbey so I could rest for a couple of hours. The world didn't collapse.
I took her out at her bedtime just so I could chat to my writers group. She thought it was fun, not selfish of me.
I go to Pilates twice a week. No one bats an eyelid.

I feel like I've finally made myself be heard. I'm strong enough now to say, 'This is what I need' and just do it.

That brings with a lot less caring about what others think. This pregnancy is teaching me that: if I can do something, great. If not, shrug it off. I can't be everything to everyone.

But when I am good to people is when I feel good myself. (Such a cliche!) Life feels amazing when I can be the mum I want to be because I'm happy to be here, when I can encourage my husband to chase his dreams without even a hint of resentment, just pure happiness for him.

It's taken a long time to learn this. More than that, it's taken a long time to stay calm about all that.

I'm okay.

And I'm going to say it: I'm really proud of myself.

The photography expedition

When I posted the other day about needing to distract my girl without expelling too much of my own energy, the super-talented Chris from Chris Allsop Photography had a good idea.

He has seen Abbey's photography first hand, when we met him at a birthday party last year. He very kindly and patiently let my three-year-old take his camera and shoot her own interpretation of the party - a big ask for a photographer whose pride and joy is his camera!

So he suggested that this week I take to the outdoors with my girl for a photographic expedition. As soon as I read his idea I knew just the thing...

One of Steve's greatest loves is gardening. He loves everything about it, even mowing and weeding... which is great, because I'm less than useless with anything to do with plants.

As he left the other day he noticed some new buds around the garden, and he mentioned that it was sad to miss part of this beautiful time of year as winter turns to spring.

So yesterday, Abbey and I took to the garden with our cameras (she with my old DSLR and me with my shiny new one). The mission? To spy anything that was a sign of spring coming, to show Steve when he gets home. Here are some of her photos:

The mini veggie patch the two of them planted last week. "It will grow
soon... in spring," she explained.

New life!

Getting slightly distracted: "Look Mum! The neighbours have a lolly
growing in their garden!" When I asked her if that was a sign of spring,
her response was an emphatic "YES!"

The special orchid her grandparents bought when she was born

There's a bee in there!

"The sun means spring!"

The Distraction Project

I'm discovering that my girl is fine with her Dad being away as long as there is suitable distraction.

The challenge, then, is finding activities that distract her enough, but which also match my low energy levels. (Really, I'd take this whole thing in a very easy stride if I weren't heavily pregnant!)

This weekend we went for the big distraction: grandparents.

No matter what we do or don't do, if there is a grandparent or two around Abbey thinks it's a huge treat. So 24 hours with my parents - two dinners, brekky, a sleepover, and letting them look after us - was just the trick to ease her into some time without her Dad.

And for me it was a chance to stock up on some rest, ready for a big week ahead.

Now I sit here, Sunday evening, in a silent house (oh but I do love some silence!) getting a bit of work done. Happy in the knowledge that my girl is okay, and imagining my man having the experience of a lifetime in the Papua New Guinean jungle.

Next step: a week of distraction that will involve friends, outings and even (shock horror) a little bit of routine. Let's do it.

Missing him

It didn't go so well.

She clung to him, screaming. "Don't go, Daddy! Stay with me!" (I swear she'd rather walk the Kokoda Track with him than let him out of her sight.)

As we drove off she was still crying. "I want my Daddy... *sob*... my special Daddy!"

I held it together enough to have her forgetting her tears within five minutes. Another five minutes and she was giggling, and we talked about silly things and laughed the rest of the way.

It was only when we got home that it really hit me.

The thing that probably annoys me most about my husband is the mess he makes in the kitchen. I can have it sparkling clean, but the minute he walks in there are dishes strewn everywhere, crumbs all over the bench, food left out and, worst of all, tiny specks of freshly ground coffee creating a film-like cover over every surface.

Today I cleaned the kitchen. Stood back and looked at it and started bawling. He won't be here to mess it up for almost two weeks.

Perpetual tidiness is a weird fantasy of mine - but it's actually a very lonely reality.

I had thought a lot about how I'd cope physically, how I'd get my work done (which is, probably not at all!), how I'd distract Abbey - everything but how much I'd miss him.

It took a little time, but then I was able to do what I needed to: remember that this needn't be about time without him, but more about time with my little girl. Over the next two weeks she needs a mum who's here in every sense of the word, and I need her.

So I spent the rest of the day playing hide and seek, reading stories, snuggling on the couch watching a favourite movie and chatting.

And today looked pretty much the same.

It's only two weeks. One day at a time.