So I decided late last night that I was going to start a new blog. I even wrote the first post, but as I went to save it (I write all my posts in Word prior to publishing), Microsoft decided to crash and refuse to recover the document. So here I am, 12 hours later, trying to write a second introductory post to a blog that I never really saw myself writing.
I am using the title “Mum Again”, because I am about to become a mum… again, quite straight forward right? I am already a mum, but as far as I can remember, being the mum of a baby differs very much to that of parenting someone who is closer to ten than they are to just having been born.
Things feel very different during this pregnancy than they did during my previous pregnancy nearly a decade ago. In the last few years, my husband and I moved our little family back to his hometown, partly due to financial reasons, partly due to him wanting to be closer to his family and partly due to us feeling that it would be a better place for our daughter to grow up. I work from home, and most of my interactions with people are via e-mail, so I don’t particularly tend to deal with a lot of people in person. As a result, despite having lived in this town for three years, I don’t particularly have a lot of friends, and certainly none that I would term as being “close” friends.
What I do have is acquaintances, people that I will speak to generally in regards to play dates, birthdays and school matters, and even those conversations are pretty scarce. My work situation isn’t the only reason that I don’t have many friends, the place in which I live isn’t the most welcoming to “outsiders”, and in addition my personality and interests tend to make it difficult for me to make friends with women.
I never really missed having close friends, despite things not having been ideal since we moved to our new “home”. I have always been a really self-sufficient and independent woman, not particularly needing, or perhaps more accurately wanted to be in need of, others. However, during my adult life, I have always had a support network there should I have needed it, something which in the last month I have now realised I am completely lacking. I am lucky in that I have a wonderful husband, who, bless him, would do anything he could to improve matters for me. Unfortunately, he has something called a Y chromosome which completely and utterly stops him from understanding my nerves in regards to not having anyone else around me during the pregnancy, my fear of my waters breaking when he is a hundred miles away for work, or not having someone to complain to about just how sore my breasts are, that won’t make a joke or attempt to grope them in response to my complaint.
Being pregnant in itself isn’t the scary bit, I am not even that concerned with the birth which will be (hopefully) around the beginning of November, but I know that I am swiftly becoming a nightmare to live with, and quite frankly, as good as my husband and I are at fighting, I don’t particularly have the energy at the moment. Throughout my entire life, the only way in which I have known to deal with issues, is to write about them. It has helped me through a lot of loss, depression and pain, as well as the odd crazy phase of adolescent (and slightly beyond) behaviour, and maybe, just maybe, my experiences can help just one person out there that is going through things similar to myself.