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  • Writer's pictureNiamh O'Reilly

I'm Back...

I’m back… after a five month hiatus, I’m back on the blog… minus a bump, plus a new baby boy and a whole lot of new grey hairs and eye bags!

Needless to say there’s a WHOLE lot I need to tell you, but in truth, being short on time and full of things to say, I put most of it out in micro blogging from over on my Instagram page. And while that certainly sufficed in the short term, it hasn’t really satisfied me…. I’m a writer at heart and by trade and I’ve really missed long form blogging. It’s my bread and butter, but it’s my counsellor too. I’ve missed sitting down for an hour or two and writing on my laptop with a hot cup of coffee beside me, but with a now four month old and three year old in tow, that prospect is as elusive as a lie-in and lay brunch after becoming a mum.

Simply put, I haven’t had a feckin’ minute to blog properly… I say that with complete trepidation because at any moment, my baby boy might make a squeak on the monitor beside me and wake up from this new found semi routine of morning nap and it may be another three months before I get to fire this laptop up again!

So I guess I should give you the super-abridged version of the last few months.

I had my second baby boy on 10th October after going 9 not so glorious days over and was induced. Yeah, that was a fun as it sounds and definitely warrants its own blog, bus suffice to say, being down on the induction ward in Holles street reminded me of being in a triage tent on a battlefield in pre-Victorian times… no space, lots of curtains, lots of screaming, lots of blood and bodily fluids, lots of indignity, lots of hearing every word from the patient next door and a serious lack of pain relief!

In the end after my waters broke, things really kicked up a notch and with no gas and air down there it was pretty unpleasant to say the least. Plus there was no room at the inn in the delivery room, so getting very close to the wire, I really thought I was going to have to give birth in the induction ward… then all of a sudden I was chucked into a wheelchair and whooshed unceremoniously down the hall, very dramatic huffing and puffing as I went and spent less than an hour in said delivery room, when my baby arrived into my arms.

This time is was completely different, no panic attacks, no unnatural feelings, just a rush of joy, happiness and actual love that was stolen from me the first time around.

There was more second degree tearing (Yay!) and stitches, again this warrants its own blog post, but the important thing is that Luke arrived safe and sound and three days later we got to go home as a family of four.

To be brutally honest the last almost five months have been a whirlwind of amazement and bloody toughness, but not in the way I imagined. This time around, I’ve been lucky enough to have avoided those awful feelings of being overwhelmed and the blight of PND that had me in its thrall the last time. This time, I’ve felt the most amazing bond and connection with the baby, it’s indescribably beautiful and while I’m so glad, I’m sad that for reasons beyond my control, I wasn’t able to feel with the Little Dude.

What has been bloody tough, is the juggling of a newborn and a then two, now three year old at the same time. That has been a new level of multi-tasking I just wasn’t prepared for…. Yes I obviously knew it would take some time for us to find our feet and juggling would be my new language, but I wasn’t really aware of just quite how much detailed management it required and just how intricate it would be… I’m still trying to get to grips with it… and to be honest some days we’re all crying! But we’re getting there.

I’ve so much more I want to say, so many blogs I want to write, but alas Luke has woken on the monitor and I’ve got to go… but I hope I might now be able to find a wee bit of time during the week to write regularly once again.

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