Being a mama with no mum and dad is a bloody challenge. Not that my parents are dead, just that they aren’t parents. They’re sad, broken people that I have had to remove from my life. Well, my dad removed himself when I was one, but upon meeting up with him a few times when I was 19, I chose to cut off permanently myself. Let’s just say he’s a traffic warden and leave it at that, shall we? The mother situation will be discussed another time.
Without parents, becoming a parent is really hard. A(HusbandFace) was working and commuting for almost 70 hours a week and that meant that I was babywrangling solo most of the time. Plus writing. Argh.
It’s come on since then though. I realised it’s okay to ask for help with R. Getting to the point where I allowed myself to ask for help for me took over 20 years so if it’s only taken six months to ask for a helping hand with baby then I’m doing okay.
We’re also rocking six months of breastfeeding, after mastitis five times, multiple blocked ducts, dealing with arseholes and an abscess. I’m feeling pretty damn proud.
Bring on the next part!