Tuesday, November 24, 2009

A new path and BF acronyms

Well, life is a changing again. I am forseeing the imminent change for this blog too.

In the last few weeks we've made one or two important decisions and for the first time in my life I've seized the bull well and truly by the horns and acted on them.

So, what's got me here? Firstly, we've sadly discovered that we are suffering from secondary infertility, so I'm now at a crossroads in my life. I've stepped over the precipice into "life the other side of having babies". Not sure how I'm feeling with it all. Somedays I feel desperately unhappy and would love to push this for all it's worth, but other days I feel remarkably calm and composed and excited to what is the otherside of the door.

I've gone through moment of feeling like life is kind of over, well the fun bits, I've left home, gone to uni, got a job, got married, bought my own home and had babies....what now? It actually has left me dangling a bit. In the last ten years I've been so busy, been pregnant, been studying, been travelling. Now it's all ended.

Obviously, I'm not going to dwell on this, because on the otherside of the precipice is life with older children, watching them grow up and make choices and become adults etc, which in itself is really exciting.

There's the opportunity to finally find my pre baby bod - I'm currently working out three times a week at the gym (well, nearly three times, if it wasn't for poorly kids and advent celebrations meaning that my Friday sessions are being put off *tut* lol!) and I am now going to take time to do the thing that I've been wanting to do ever since I jumped on the baby bandwagon.

I'm going to return to university and do the degree that, in hindsight, I probably should have done the first time around! I'm going to be a midwife (well....if I get accepted of course!)

I've spent ten years doing everything baby related, the NCT chair, being an antenatal teacher, being a doula, working with postpartum mums and babies - I think it's about time to answer that call.

Yesterday evening at about 6.30pm I pressed "send" on my UCAS application to do a BSc (hons) in midwifery. Now, I wait!

I've applied for 2011, so deferring for a year as I intend to start once we move in the house in Oxfordshire and the children are finally settled.

I'm terribly excited about it all- I think I also have a rather unhealthy relationship with my NUS card having had one for the best part of ten years of my 37 and likely (fingers crossed) to have one for another three or four!

I've decided I need to do my Biology GCSE, I don't actually "need" it as I already have a GCSE in Chemistry, but I personally think I do as my original leanings at sixth form were in the arts.

So over the next few years I'm hoping that I'll be able to update on my progress and change in direction, moving away from life as I've known it so far, into the realms of uteri (I'm sure there has to be a plural ;-)), SROM's, FBS, FHR and EDD!!!


Friday, November 06, 2009

Fools rush in.

Little did I realise when I named my first born, ten years ago, that his name when wailed loudly by a four year old would sound so much like "mammy". The number of times I've gone running to be met by an exasperated tweenie sighing with despair "Not YOU, mammy" Still, I guess I get my workouts in most days with all the cardio stairs I do.

Then there is the time when you thought you were doing your children a favour by not dumbing down language into "ickle wickle and cutsie wootsie" and it backfires with your middle child coming out of school remonstrating how his new BFF isn't "ready to come over for a playdate yet because he needs to get a grip on himself, because today he has been a despicable git" (apparently he (the bff) got into trouble at school). I did have to inhale my tonsils at this fishwifery.

Or the time when you realise that speed reading the bedtime story probably isn't the best way forward to encourage your child to learn the words and Hairy McClary from Donaldson's Dairy is "most definitely" Hamey M'laney from Domalson Damey and nothing you can say or do will convince her otherwise.

And finally you realise that it isn't just you, when your nephew, who has had a slightly *emphasis on slightly* wheezy chest over the last couple of days, tells his teacher that "it's me heart, Miss" when his wicked mother sends him into school...

Oh well, when they grow up, they can blame it all on me when it goes full circle mwahahaha!