Ha! Look at this! I'm actually writing in my blog. I really regret, now and then, that my blogging days have trickled away from me. I so loved recording aspects of my life before we had small people, and then when they were small. It was therapy, memory forging, moment recording and writing practice all rolled into one.
I know precisely how and why I stopped. Insomnia. That bastard disorder became so all-consuming in 2016, that I daren't use a laptop, or any screen at all, in the evening. I quite literally bent over backwards to try to get my sleep habits back on track, because doctors weren't keen to prescribe sleeping medications. Anti-anxiety and anti-depression pills; absolutely! Have a tank-load! Life in a bleary, constantly yawning and apathetic state. But hand me an actual TREATMENT for the problem... nah.
I did persevere, and finally got a few precious sleeping pills in 2017 (I think?) The relief and comfort that just having them in the cupboard brought, combined with lots of over the counter remedies stashed about everywhere in my house, did what I always thought they could. I stopped worrying about sleeping. Now I'd describe myself as a sometimes-insomniac. But it's no longer the cause of heart-racing, palm-sweating anxiety and heartache. If I don't sleep well, I feel a bit tired. I take some over the counter remedies for the next few nights. I sleep better. I feel better. Crisis averted. The few precious zopiclone I have left are saved for 2am desperation, usually the night we go on holiday... or Christmas Eve. Two times I invariably lie awake.
Anyhoos... now I'm post-insomnia and just-pre-midwifery training, it seems like the perfect time to start blogging again. Not necessarily even to publish. Private reflections of my experiences though, will be therapeutic and interesting to refer back to, I think.
Midwifery then. Yes. My long-secret, now not-at-all-secret dream. Something I dreamed about as a child, but never shared, because I didn't think I had the social skills to support a labouring person and family. And I didn't. I have every confidence that if, aged 18, I'd applied to start a midwifery course, I'd have been turned away. I didn't have the social confidence. I developed more skills as I went through university and more still as a teacher, and I still idly wondered about midwifery. But small talk made me nervous and that's no good for such a career. HOWEVER, having Master R, and joining the committee of our local baby and toddler group was like a social-skills crash course for me! Suddenly I just got on with the business of greeting complete strangers, safe in the knowledge that they were probably just as nervous as I'd been at my first few sessions, terrified nobody would speak to me. I learned to make small talk without making inappropriate jokes (mostly). I practised the art of listening empathetically, without judging or even offering advice. Then Miss O joined the family and life, though filled with joy and love, became very, VERY challenging. See above re: insomnia plus two highly-sensitive children and one highly-sensitive mother parenting 24/7 with no breaks at a workplace.
My pride and joy about my second birthing experience, my love for the midwives who'd supported me through my pregnancies and births and my passion for birth rights became stronger and stronger. Plus, the education system, having been chewed up and spat out by Michael Gove, was no longer a tempting place to work. And I knew for my own mental wellbeing, trying to teach part of full time while raising children would be a BAD idea.
So, while I started up Suffolk Mobile Sling Library and continued helping at the baby and toddler group that idea of being a midwife started to seem not quite so impossible. I reviewed my skill set and found that I was now really quite relaxed while chatting to new and expectant parents at sling library. I felt I could offer information without judgement to them about how to wear their offspring safely and comfortably. I loved supporting them in their early parenting. I was still reading all about pregnancy and childbirth, but without any desire to have any more babies myself. Still, my thirst for knowledge, understanding, insight was unquenched.
Then, while washing up one morning, I watched one of those inspirational videos that get shared around Faceache now and then. It was just a guy telling the camera that you only get one life, and that you should go for your dreams. Why lie on your deathbed and regret things you didn't do? In that moment, I decided. Finished washing up, marched upstairs and announced that I had a change of career in mind.
It was a way off, at that point. Miss O was still young and I planned to stay at home while she settled into her first year of school, before applying to start a midwifery degree. As it happened, I was confused (it happens a lot) about dates by a friend, and suddenly thought I was about to miss the applications for 2021, so cancelled my offer to help with the interviews as a service user (which I'd enjoyed the previous year) and applied speedily. Then I recalculated and realised I'd applied for 2020, at which point Miss O would only have done a term and a half of school. Oh well! What would I do with a WHOLE YEAR at home anyway? Why wait? I went for it.
I got in, which was a huge relief. When you know some of the lecturers and midwives who are part of the selection process because you'd helped them in the past, the pressure is quite insane! What if I went to the interview and fluffed it? What if I still didn't have the required skills? Maybe my personality and midwifery just don't mesh! I prepared and researched and attempted to practice answering questions while we re-painted the landing. Then off I went, filled with hopes, dreams and porridge, to my interview day.
Meeting the other potentials (reminds me of season 7 Buffy, that word!) and seeing more parts of the University (of Suffolk, by the way) made me all the more desperate to get on the course. And I met and chatted to a couple of other mums who I hoped would also get on, because they were A: really suitable and B: lovely. I felt like the interviews had gone ok... but as soon as I got out I started remembering things I'd forgotten to mention. The wait for an answer was anxious indeed. It seemed to take soooo long. Half a month, in actual fact. Then I got my invitation on my birthday, which brightened the day up no end, since I'd contracted a stomach bug the night before so had spent the day until that point nauseously flailing about in bed.
And now here I am, on the threshold of a whole new adventure. Yesterday was a welcome day at the university, where nearly all of the 2020 cohort met to learn a bit more about the course, get to know each other a big better and, best of all, touch equipment in the skills lab. We were all in raptures about that. How happy an amni hook, bunch of model cervices and palpatable abdomen made us! I literally can't wait to get started.
Except I can. Because I still want to re-build the dodgy raised beds at the allotment, re-decorate our bedroom (but we can't find ANY wallpapers or fabrics we like!), finished reading one anatomy and physiology book, and some more Ina May Gaskin's, and 'Give Birth Like a Feminist' and do a few more bits of family admin.
But more pressingly, right now I need to go and pick up those small people of ours from school. More on them later. More on everything later. I will get back into this writing malarky!
I know precisely how and why I stopped. Insomnia. That bastard disorder became so all-consuming in 2016, that I daren't use a laptop, or any screen at all, in the evening. I quite literally bent over backwards to try to get my sleep habits back on track, because doctors weren't keen to prescribe sleeping medications. Anti-anxiety and anti-depression pills; absolutely! Have a tank-load! Life in a bleary, constantly yawning and apathetic state. But hand me an actual TREATMENT for the problem... nah.
I did persevere, and finally got a few precious sleeping pills in 2017 (I think?) The relief and comfort that just having them in the cupboard brought, combined with lots of over the counter remedies stashed about everywhere in my house, did what I always thought they could. I stopped worrying about sleeping. Now I'd describe myself as a sometimes-insomniac. But it's no longer the cause of heart-racing, palm-sweating anxiety and heartache. If I don't sleep well, I feel a bit tired. I take some over the counter remedies for the next few nights. I sleep better. I feel better. Crisis averted. The few precious zopiclone I have left are saved for 2am desperation, usually the night we go on holiday... or Christmas Eve. Two times I invariably lie awake.
Anyhoos... now I'm post-insomnia and just-pre-midwifery training, it seems like the perfect time to start blogging again. Not necessarily even to publish. Private reflections of my experiences though, will be therapeutic and interesting to refer back to, I think.
Midwifery then. Yes. My long-secret, now not-at-all-secret dream. Something I dreamed about as a child, but never shared, because I didn't think I had the social skills to support a labouring person and family. And I didn't. I have every confidence that if, aged 18, I'd applied to start a midwifery course, I'd have been turned away. I didn't have the social confidence. I developed more skills as I went through university and more still as a teacher, and I still idly wondered about midwifery. But small talk made me nervous and that's no good for such a career. HOWEVER, having Master R, and joining the committee of our local baby and toddler group was like a social-skills crash course for me! Suddenly I just got on with the business of greeting complete strangers, safe in the knowledge that they were probably just as nervous as I'd been at my first few sessions, terrified nobody would speak to me. I learned to make small talk without making inappropriate jokes (mostly). I practised the art of listening empathetically, without judging or even offering advice. Then Miss O joined the family and life, though filled with joy and love, became very, VERY challenging. See above re: insomnia plus two highly-sensitive children and one highly-sensitive mother parenting 24/7 with no breaks at a workplace.
My pride and joy about my second birthing experience, my love for the midwives who'd supported me through my pregnancies and births and my passion for birth rights became stronger and stronger. Plus, the education system, having been chewed up and spat out by Michael Gove, was no longer a tempting place to work. And I knew for my own mental wellbeing, trying to teach part of full time while raising children would be a BAD idea.
So, while I started up Suffolk Mobile Sling Library and continued helping at the baby and toddler group that idea of being a midwife started to seem not quite so impossible. I reviewed my skill set and found that I was now really quite relaxed while chatting to new and expectant parents at sling library. I felt I could offer information without judgement to them about how to wear their offspring safely and comfortably. I loved supporting them in their early parenting. I was still reading all about pregnancy and childbirth, but without any desire to have any more babies myself. Still, my thirst for knowledge, understanding, insight was unquenched.
Then, while washing up one morning, I watched one of those inspirational videos that get shared around Faceache now and then. It was just a guy telling the camera that you only get one life, and that you should go for your dreams. Why lie on your deathbed and regret things you didn't do? In that moment, I decided. Finished washing up, marched upstairs and announced that I had a change of career in mind.
It was a way off, at that point. Miss O was still young and I planned to stay at home while she settled into her first year of school, before applying to start a midwifery degree. As it happened, I was confused (it happens a lot) about dates by a friend, and suddenly thought I was about to miss the applications for 2021, so cancelled my offer to help with the interviews as a service user (which I'd enjoyed the previous year) and applied speedily. Then I recalculated and realised I'd applied for 2020, at which point Miss O would only have done a term and a half of school. Oh well! What would I do with a WHOLE YEAR at home anyway? Why wait? I went for it.
I got in, which was a huge relief. When you know some of the lecturers and midwives who are part of the selection process because you'd helped them in the past, the pressure is quite insane! What if I went to the interview and fluffed it? What if I still didn't have the required skills? Maybe my personality and midwifery just don't mesh! I prepared and researched and attempted to practice answering questions while we re-painted the landing. Then off I went, filled with hopes, dreams and porridge, to my interview day.
Meeting the other potentials (reminds me of season 7 Buffy, that word!) and seeing more parts of the University (of Suffolk, by the way) made me all the more desperate to get on the course. And I met and chatted to a couple of other mums who I hoped would also get on, because they were A: really suitable and B: lovely. I felt like the interviews had gone ok... but as soon as I got out I started remembering things I'd forgotten to mention. The wait for an answer was anxious indeed. It seemed to take soooo long. Half a month, in actual fact. Then I got my invitation on my birthday, which brightened the day up no end, since I'd contracted a stomach bug the night before so had spent the day until that point nauseously flailing about in bed.
And now here I am, on the threshold of a whole new adventure. Yesterday was a welcome day at the university, where nearly all of the 2020 cohort met to learn a bit more about the course, get to know each other a big better and, best of all, touch equipment in the skills lab. We were all in raptures about that. How happy an amni hook, bunch of model cervices and palpatable abdomen made us! I literally can't wait to get started.
Except I can. Because I still want to re-build the dodgy raised beds at the allotment, re-decorate our bedroom (but we can't find ANY wallpapers or fabrics we like!), finished reading one anatomy and physiology book, and some more Ina May Gaskin's, and 'Give Birth Like a Feminist' and do a few more bits of family admin.
But more pressingly, right now I need to go and pick up those small people of ours from school. More on them later. More on everything later. I will get back into this writing malarky!