Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo

Before starting this entry, I went back and read some of my entries from before the wedding. It was weird to remember that time again – how utterly obsessed I was with the wedding and losing weight and how annoyed I got at my mother on a number of occasions. Which makes me wonder what went through my head when I suggested going to stay with them for 4 days at Christmas this year. Must have been pregnancy hormones or something.

Anyway, can you believe my little girl is 13 weeks tomorrow? I can’t. I can’t believe 13 weeks has both flown by and yet it seems like a lifetime ago that I was in hospital about to give birth. The title comes from the nickname I currently use on Zoe. She loves it when I sing the song at her. So, my 13-week old daughter (currently sat in her chair next to me and refusing to sleep even though she’s so very tired) has only 12 more weeks of me at home. I can’t believe that either. I really don’t want to go back to work and yet circumstances (not helped by events of the previous entry) dictate that I must. I well up at times at the thought of leaving her alone all day. Well, not alone alone, obviously, I’m not evil, but alone with people she doesn’t know. God, I hope I’ve made the right decision on the nursery.

We’ve been starting to get out and about a bit more. Last week we met up with the rest of our NCT group, which was a lovely way to spend a Thursday morning. Unfortunately Zoe cried for a lot of it and seemed to want feeding for most of the time but I coped. I did feel a bit stressed by it, but still, that was largely because I felt I was being judged. No doubt in some small, subconscious way I was, but we all do that, don’t we? A couple of days later, one of the girls emailed me (about a cinema trip) and said I was lovely with Zoe. That made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

A few years ago, when I started this diary, I’m sure I mentioned the feeling of playing the role of a grown up without actually feeling like one. I’ve always had this sense of play acting, that someone will find me out eventually as a child who has no clue what she’s doing. This feeling has increased massively since Zoe. Some days we stay in the house, just the two of us, and I try to do the best I can – remembering that she needs time on the floor with her toys, time on her tummy to strengthen her neck and back, time with her nappy off, etc, etc. And then I hear how people are out every day to various clubs and classes and I am amazed that they can do this. I can barely find the energy to do the washing up some days. So then I worry. Should Zoe be socialising more with other children? Is being at home with me singing and chatting away to her enough for the moment? I doubt my own ability as a mother on an almost hourly basis and blame myself for things which are clearly not my fault. (er, Zoe was diagnosed with reflux last week and has consequently put on only 8ozs in 4 weeks. She’s now 10lbs, she’s a dot!) So not only do I somehow blame myself for her reflux but also for the fact that she hates the medicine and it’s doing her no good. (we stopped the medicine on Wednesday night when, 2 minutes after taking it, she threw up her entire feed over me, her and the bed.)

I wonder if she realises that her mother, who is 30 in a number of weeks, (just over 6 to be precise, holy crap, how did that happen?!) has such low self esteem and is constantly wondering if the hospital will be phoning at some point to say, "Sorry, we made a mistake, that’s not your child, you clearly have no clue what you’re doing." I feel I’m muddling through each day (and barely coping on the nights when she’s awake – she tends to sleep from 10pm to 5ish am at least once a week now – bliss!) and any second now, Duncan is gonna see that I’m not the wonderful mother and wife he thinks I am, just a teenager play acting.

While you ponder that, go admire that amazing daughter of mine. Shameless proud mother photos –http://www.flickr.com/photos/86124345@N00/

Until there is a next time…

xx