It’s amazing how a little dose of reality can put a fictional life on hold. At the start of the year we had the pleasure of house guests (my in-laws, with whom I get on very well) staying with us for two months.
In February we haunted the various rooms of our house trying to stay calm while we made the aching decisions of which of our items were important enough to shove in a suitcase in case we had to make a run for it; bush fire threatened just a few kilometres away. I was 36 weeks pregnant at the time – another consideration for giving myself enough time to get out early. Our family left with more insight into what we deal with most summers than I think they wanted to have. But luckily our area was never under real threat and we were left very grateful after seeing the devastation that hit some other really stunning parts of our state.
And then a week later our beautiful son decided it was time to find out what all the excitement was about. He was 3 weeks earlier than anticipated, but, in hindsight, he and I were perfectly ready for his birth. Just as I’d planned, I gave birth to him in the comfort and serenity of our lovely home, with no drugs or interventions. It was such a perfect experience that I have spent many hours since day-dreaming the labour and birth over again so that I can keep it as fresh in my memory as possible.
But then came colic. And silent reflux. And intestinal wind pain. And hours and hours of soothing a crying baby. It’s been a tough few months. Fiction will resume it’s place soon, I’m sure, but in the meantime it’s too subtle to push aside the impact of reality.
Enjoy your beautiful boy. You will be surprised how as the years go by, you get your time back. I remember those days of colic. Boy, were they tough. I bet you are a great Mum!
Posted 11 June 2009