Sorry I’m busy not being busy.
When I thought about bringing Casey home from hospital, I thought about the freedom and time I’d have to spend with him. I’d cut down Beaux’s nursery days by half to spend more time with her too and make up for the nine months I worked solidly while pregnant and spending the time we had together trying to recover from my energy sapping work days while carrying a human parasite. It can’t have been easy and I was ready to make it up to her.
Dan went back to work and I actually felt like I’d been handed a sweet deal. Second time round is a breeze in comparison to the first. You’ve got your shit relatively together, you feel like a baby whisperer (even though Casey spoke any language other than the one we’d learnt with Beaux) the house wasn’t a complete baby death trap and we were a little less thrown in the deep end, with cement blocks on our feet, like you are with your first.
Just shy of 6 weeks in and I was venturing out on my own (just with Casey – fxxk risking a 2-child-meltdown in public when you’ve only just gotten over the uncontrollable, unpredicatable, hormonal outbursts yourself)
I’d offered my services to a close friend to make her a flower crown and some other cute baby shower bits and at that point of juggling two kids and life I thought I was a mixture of Mary Poppins and Kirsty Allsopp so naturally, I headed to Hobby Craft to grab myself a glue gun and fuck shit up.
As we got closer to home I stopped to turn onto our road from the main road (aptly names ’13 bends of death’) a car went from roughly national speed limit, with about 3 foot of breaking into the back of us.
Thankfully it was a smart car (covered in astroturf which was a lol explaining to insurance companies and solicitors) so he managed to completely miss the crash bar and go right under the car, rather than completely throw us into oncoming traffic the other side of the road. Also due to the make of the car and the engine being in the boot he kept his legs which was another win.
And thanks to my ‘fxxk-taking-two-kids-out-solo-just-yet’ attitude, Beaux was at nursery and didn’t take the brunt of the impact emotionally or physically.
Casey was so preserved by the carseat he wouldn’t have felt much other than shock, (although the car had been so shunted I couldn’t open his door) but paramedics assessed him at the scene and said it would be best to go home and monitor him in his usual environment.
The adrenaline f*cked my shit up and while I showed no signs of anything at the time, I proceeded to vomit every day for two weeks and by the end of the first week I’d lost sensation in my arm and hands. CT and x-ray were clear and it was diagnosed as muscle spasms in my neck pinching my nerves causing loss of feeling – just what you need while changing 928391274012984 new born nappies a day. Also poppers – fuck you.
Fast forward to 2.5 months later, I’ve had to have physio 2/3 times a week, hours upon hours away from my children after having this dreamy plan of being with them like I was supposed to and now being crippled with anxiety.
Anxiety that I could’ve done more, anxiety driving, anxiety that I had to stop BFing, anxiety to take the medication I was prescribed, anxiety eating, anxiety thinking about having to go out, anxiety sleeping, anxiety of having to get help which would lead to more time away from my children. It’s ruined birthdays, nights out, missed weddings, missed appointments, missed out. There’s only so many excuses you can make up before you start looking like a dickhead.
The car was replaced and no one was hurt badly but all this time I’ve missed can’t and while my kids drive me insane I’d give anything to not have had this start to our journey together.
Although its catapulted me entirely away from any form of baby blues, after much anxiety, cold calling the surgery and cancelling appointment after appointment, I got diagnosed with ‘postpartum maternal separation anxiety’ and it is an absolute b*tch! I’m hopeful that I’ll see the sunshine soon, but currently my days are as grey as they are long.
Hoping to get my shit together soon.