Ahem. Please excuse me while I unashamedly brag so hard my ears might actually pop, but last night I got NINE HOURS SLEEP! Nine hours! Unfortunately it wasn’t our little angel sleeping through, it was Luca retreating to the safety of the sofa downstairs with Gabriele after sleep deprivation and suspected heat-stroke turned me into a walking and debatably talking bollard. Last night I was so tired and weak I was literally ghosting around the house cooking dinner and doing the dishes, although I was standing up I was staring into space, and my answers I gave to Luca’s questions were barely comprehendible words more Neanderthal grunts and slurs.
In the twenty-seven days since Gabriele’s birth, and I’d say fifty-odd days since the last time I was actually comfortable and able to have a nights sleep during the end of the pregnancy, this has been the first night that I have slept through in one go. No broken silence every hour and a half, no burning dried-out eyeballs, no watery mouth and aching bones, just peaceful desperate slumber anchoring me to my pillow and releasing the knots and tension from every muscle. And this has been my reward. I had to have seen the castle and accepted the MOT station as a test of faith, and my snoring dog-like drool induced slumber was my sweet recompense. Thank you God
And this morning I stepped onto the scales for my weekly weigh-in and was greeted pleasantly with a four-pound loss.
So my body this week is still against me, but edging closer each day to normality. I’m still putting up ‘Lost’ posters trying to find my waist, which was last seen a year ago. I have far too much junk in my trunk and jelly in my belly for my liking but it’s gradually reducing so I must persevere and keep the biscuits at bay.
My thighs are still squishy and pale, when I sit down in shorts on a hot day they embarrassingly flatten out and almost join together like a white meat tablecloth covering my lap – not very attractive! I’m making a mental note to do squats and lunges in two weeks time when I reach the holy grail of six weeks from birth. My arms feel podgy and my belly feels swollen, I have at least one chin to remove from my face and about four muffins to remove from my midriff.
Overall I am happy and positive, I’m glad that I’m still trimming off the pounds gradually as it keeps me going for next week and I feel like I’m on the right track; but at the same time I’m frustrated and impatient that day-to-day my body is not how I want it to be and there is very little that I can do about it. It’s as if I’m in a hole-ridden canoe in somebody’s garden pond and it’s filling up with water and sinking fast, but I must stay aboard with Millie’s pink little sand-castle bucket feverishly emptying out the water to stay afloat when I know sinking is inevitable and all I have to do is step into the ankle deep water and walk to dry land. But I must stay afloat for just two more weeks, and then I will leap from my canoe and laugh in the faces of every snooty gnome that sits mocking me from the edge of the pond, with their little smirking faces and fishing rods, I will rise like a phoenix from the flames and stand triumphantly by the begonias and pansies once more.
I continue to cut out pasta, no bread, no chocolate, no ice-cream no alcohol, no biscuits, no treats, no crackers and cheese after Eastenders, no take-aways, no no no, no nothing!! I do feel healthier, I do have more energy, I am being a good vegetarian eating more fresh greens and fruit and drinking lots of water, but wow, isn’t it boring! I’m desperately hoping I will stick to my new healthy regime for the rest of my life, but I’m smiling as I write this as I can already picture in two weeks time the mountain of junk food and the carnage of wrappers and devastation left behind when I stuff my face silly on an almighty binge at silly o’clock in the morning in my nighty and pop-socks
This morning Gabriele is so delicious I could kiss him from head to toe in ten seconds flat. He’s my big boy now, he no longer feels like a newborn, he’s alert and responsive; he holds his head so well and is beautifully content and cheerful. His skin tone has evened out, his eyes are always open, he’s filled out enough to no longer appear fragile, and he just melts my heart over and over everyday. And Millie is wanting to help more and more everyday, I would never leave her alone with him just incase she tried to pick him up or give him a cuddle by herself, but she has so much love for him you can almost taste it.
We took the kids for a walk in the meadow and Millie absolutely loved it, we sat and had a picnic, played at the park afterwards and picked wild flowers on the way home. Millie has a thing about picking daisies and blowing clocks she reminds me of myself when I was a little girl. I used to love making daisy chains on summer mornings and bringing my mum dandelions that no doubt several dogs had urinated on. There’s something reminiscent of lazy summer days that make you realise how sweet life is; especially when you return home at the end of the evening and both your babies snuggle up and fall fast asleep on your lap. x x x