It was my Birthday last week (Yep, I’m now 31!) I was spoilt to say the least, but this year, I received Birthday Blogger Mail!
It was my Birthday last week (Yep, I’m now 31!) I was spoilt to say the least, but this year, I received Birthday Blogger Mail!
I read a lot of quotes, I use a lot-especially in my blogs, then I decide whether I believe them or not! However, there’s not a shred of doubt that the above quote is 100% true. Continue reading “My Dad-A Daughters First Love”
When I was 13, and I’d just about given up on not only ever enjoying school life, but also having confidence in my learning ability-a new English teacher, came to my school.
Knowing how horrid the girls in my school could be, I tried my hardest to make him feel welcome. I was one of the first people to speak to him, and, three years later, when I was leaving, he reminded me of my kindness in my leavers book.
Not only did he remind me of a quality in myself I may have otherwise forgotten, our relationship had given me back my thirst for learning, and my confidence in my own abilities. Continue reading “Guiding Lights-Giving Teachers Recognition “
I’m unsure if those of you that will read this, are familiar with the above number and the song it relates to.
Seasons of Love is a song from the West End musical, ‘Rent‘.
This song came on a year ago today, on the radio on my TV. I was doing washing, something not abnormal in my life, but this time, I was doing washing, ten minutes after coming in from the hospital. Continue reading “525,600 Minutes-How Do You Measure A Year?”
A Mum and Dad team of two-Aimee and Scott, who, after seeing all the beautiful products available on social media, decided they wanted to see even more!
After searching the internet for specific items they required for their own little girl, and having no luck, they decided to make her the things they had hoped to find online! Continue reading “Momma Makes-Mother And Daughter Tee Review”
Today we celebrate our 12th anniversary. 12 years of memories-the best days and the worst days. I can’t list 12 years worth of memories-so here are just some…….
On the 28th of March 2005, an 18 year old me, and a 19 year old you met in our local town. We’d known each other (on and off) since we were 7
Within a few months (6 to be exact), we were on our first holiday together.
The 6th of October 2005 you asked me to be your wife. We didn’t even live together but I knew I wanted to marry you.
At the end of March 2006 we moved in together. Our first flat and we loved it.
5th June 2009. Our world changed. I was pregnant. Unplanned but so wanted we realised we really wanted to be parents.
17th June 2009. You supported me during one of the toughest times. Nanny dying, while I was pregnant and planning our wedding was tough. But you stayed strong for me.
1st August 2009. The day i became your wife.
One of the best days of my life-becoming one with you.
7th February 2010. Our son was born. Kye George Peter Willson, bundled into our lives and turned them upside down. Another of my favourite days-watching you become a Daddy was one of the best things I’ve ever seen.
28th September 2011. Our family was growing. Another baby on the way. Our hearts were fuller then they’ve ever been. Plans for our new arrival were underway.
26th October 2011. Our new baby was gone. 8 weeks 3 days. No heartbeat. No baby.
Once again you were so strong. You kept me going when my world had crumbled.
1st September 2012. We tried for so long to have another baby after we lost our angel. We fell pregnant again. But just days later we lost another angel. I was distraught. You were strong once more.
7th November 2012. Another lost baby. I was done. Numb. No more babies for us. You said we’d see what happened. I was done.
27th January 2013. Emergency appointment at the early pregnancy unit. A scan showed a beating heart. Another chance-our 5th pregnancy.
27th September 2013. Olivia-May Barbara Willson-our rainbow after so many storms. Our family was complete and so was my heart.
Following Olivia’s 1st birthday-I realised something was wrong. I wasn’t feeling myself and I wanted it sorted.
Since my first visit to the doctor regarding how I felt, up until today, I’ve had counselling, and I’ve been diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety and depression all caused by my miscarriages.
You give me the support I so often need, so much that I often worry you’re too strong too often.
Since being diagnosed with those mental illnesses, I’ve bought my website. I now write anything I fancy, any time.
You often tell me how clever I am. How good my writing is. You don’t realise how much those words mean to me.
I now go to blogger events, often having a meltdown before every single one, and have regular anxiety and panic attacks. But you always have hope and faith in me. You tell me I can do it. You tell me I’ll be fine. You’re always right but you know I’ll not remember the next time I’m facing that battle-so you tell me again and again each time.
You work so hard for our family. I know it’s not easy. I’m so proud you’re so hard working and a perfect role model for our children.
12 years have passed and we’re not the same people we once were. So much has changed. We’ve changed. But we’re still us. We’re still one. We’re still together.
I am grateful for you, I am thankful to fate for bringing us together. And I love you today, and every day.
Happy Anniversary Baby xxx
With 1 in 4 women losing a baby during pregnancy or birth, that’s 1 in 4 women, not celebrating being a Mum on a day that should be theirs.
Then there are those women who’ve had babies before their losses, in between their losses, or after their losses. Those that are told to be happy that they have children-to be grateful they’ve already got their babies. Those that are questioned on how they can still dwell on their losses, when they went on to carry their children to term.
This Mothers Day-we all might spare a thought for those struggling through the day-regardless of circumstance.
Every Mothers Day, since I’ve had my children, I receive a card and some gifts from my Son and Daughter.
Something that I don’t mention, is the slight tainted feeling surrounding not just Mothers Day, but most celebrations that my children take part in.
In complete honesty, I long for the cards and gifts I’ll never get given, from the children I’ll never meet.
I know what people would think/say; how can I long for things from three little blobs on a screen. Three little “things” that never grew, were never held, never nursed, never seen.
My answer will always be; because those three “things” were always loved, always wanted, always mine.
Yes I have two children-but I’m a Mum of five. I carried five babies-regardless of how long for, or the outcome. I have two babies celebrating Mothers Day with me here on Earth, but three angels I wish I could celebrate with too.
I understand that it doesn’t make sense to some. I understand people’s assumptions that I should be happy with the two I have.
Most of me is happy-I focus on my two little ones, and the joy I feel when they burst in excitedly, with shouts of HAPPY MOTHERS DAY MUMMY!!!
But the day-to-day grief that has filled my life since we lost our three little ones, is hard enough, without it being amplified during celebrations such as Mothers Day.
Everything is tainted-it has been from the day we lost our first angel.
Everyday is a challenge-it always has been.
But everyday is filled with love-love for my children, my husband, my family and of course, love and constant recognition of my angels.
I’m content in my world, and will continue celebrating another Mothers Day as a Mum of five.
For more information on the work Tommy’s do-head over to their website https://www.tommys.org/.
Is it only me that wants to stop their children growing up? I mean obviously I want them to grow up, but I suppose what I’m worried about is them not being little and needing me anymore.
Will I have the most excruciating heartbreak each time they reach another milestone-not like milestones we’ve celebrated as they grew, but milestones that mean they’re stopping something they’ve always done.
What happens when they don’t want to hold my hand anymore when we go out for walks. Or when their hands don’t fit into mine anymore.
What happens when they don’t want me to kiss them in the playground when they go into school in the morning. Or they don’t want to cuddle me as tight as they do now when they come out and see me.
What happens when they’re too big to fit in my lap, and cuddles at home on the sofa, while watching their favourite films can’t happen anymore.
What happens when they don’t stay at home for the weekends, because they want to spend time sleeping over at friends houses.
What happens the first time I have to let them go out without me, and I’m not there to stop anything bad happening.
What happens when I’m not allowed in their rooms, to stroke their faces at night, watch them sleep and kiss their foreheads before I leave.
Will I be filled with emptiness? Will I feel like a part of me is missing? Will I even feel like a Mum anymore?
Sometimes I think, loving my children as much as I do, actually hurts me in ways I can’t describe. I wonder if someone had managed to describe the feeling, and told me about this before I had children, would I have put myself through this?
Out of everything I don’t know, come some assurances from my own mind and heart.
I know, I’ll hold their hands for as long as they want/need me to.
I know, I will always want to kiss them in the playground, and squeeze them so tight when I pick them up-I miss them so much when they’re not with me.
I know, I’ll try and sit as a close to them while watching whatever they want to watch, regardless of how much they do or don’t want to snuggle.
I know, I’ll miss them so much when they go to their friends houses, but I’ll also try and embrace that feeling that I taught them independence and the ability to live their lives without being attached to me constantly.
I know, bad things happen, but I also know that I teach them, and will continue teaching them what is right and wrong, and how to look after themselves when they go out.
I know, that regardless of their ages, all the time they live with me, I’ll continue to go into their rooms, kiss their foreheads, and stroke their faces while they sleep.
I know, that growing up has to happen-there’s no getting off of this train!
I know, there will come a day when all this will change, but living every day, making memories, and putting future worries out of my head, is so much more important than anything else right now.
The day where all loved up couples are supposed to make an extra effort to show love to their partners. Where those looking for love, patiently wait to see if St Valentine/Cupid brings it to them. And, where those separated in some way from someone special, spend the day having red hearts and commercialised tat thrown in their disheartened little faces.
I myself, (well myself and my Husband), get each other a card. Some years he has come home with something extra, but I never expect anything, and I never “want” anything.
We get cards for my sake really. I’d hate to have something happen and wish we’d taken part in the card thing, so I’d have something extra to remember our relationship by.
Mostly, I believe it’s mainly a day for shops to charge a fortune for flowers that cost half the price the day before, and couples everywhere to end up with tat they’ll never want to get rid of, but won’t want in their house after the day is done.
People who know me, and my Husband, will know we’re not the shy and retiring type of couple that hide our feelings and love for each other. Many times at occasions we’ve been to, the stiff (not in that way), and shy couples are clear to see. A quick murmur between them, if any conversation has to be had, is plenty enough for them. Myself and my Husband on the other hand, we’ll chat, hold hands, cuddle, kiss, dance (if there’s music obviously-were not crazies), and generally flaunt our love, much to the disgust of fellow family or friends.
So why, on the most loved up of days, do we not join in with the
One small reason that sticks out for me, is having my heart broken on Valentine’s Day. Yes, I got dumped on Valentines Day, the same year my Husband and I started dating.
Now I know what you’re thinking, that was so long ago, you’re now married with children, and you’re in love with a decent man, that would never be so vile as to dump you on Valentine’s Day . I do know this, but things stick, and I can never shake that feeling that someone disliked me enough to dump me on a day you’re supposed to be extra loved up!
The major reason I dislike Valentine’s Day however, has stemmed from losing family members as the years have gone on.
My Great-Grandmother, lost her Husband when I was a child, and, at the time, I was too young to realise what that must’ve felt like for her.
A few years later when my Nan lost her Husband, and I was older, so more aware, I realised just how heartbreaking losing your soulmate must be.
For years these two women, who had married their soulmates and lived decades happily in love, were alone. They had family of course, but what are family members worth when you don’t have your sidekick, your one true love, by your side anymore.
And, what an absolute kick in the teeth when Valentines Day, in all its tacky goriness, comes along to throw love in your face. To show you happy couples, skipping down the street hand in hand, when you go back to a cold empty bed, and memories of what those days used to be like for you.
I am eternally grateful that fate, karma, luck, whatever you want to call it, brought my Husband to me. And I will continue to show him that I’m grateful, not more on one specific day of the year, but every day for as long as we have together.
So here’s to those couples, loving each other and showing the world how in love they are every day. Here’s to the singletons who stick a finger up to Valentine’s Day and all it’s tacky goriness.
And here’s to those who had their soulmate, who lost their soulmate, and who would give anything to celebrate any day with their soulmate again.
One of my most favourite things to do-in days filled with school runs, housework, dinners, baths, keeping the kids alive, etc-happens at 10pm.
At 10pm, the husband and I drag our ridiculously tired selves to bed. Now, as much as I love all that goes with bedtime, (the silence being one of the major loves of my evenings), it’s not quite up there with something else I do every night.
At 10pm, I head up to the top of the house to pay a visit to my biggest kidlet.
I un-ruffle the duvet from under and around his sleeping body, locate his favourite cuddly elephant, check he’s not too hot or cold and tuck him back in.
I then always stroke his face, smooth down his unruly bed hair, kiss his forehead, and tell him “Mummy loves you”. Sometimes he murmurs a reply of “love you” back- other times he doesn’t stir, but I always say it anyway.
Shortly after, I go back down to the littlest kidlet’s room, where things are sometimes a little different.
80% of the time, she will tend to be somewhere else in her bed, in comparison to where I originally tucked her in a few hours ago.
Instead of angelically laying on her pillow, the right way up, she tends to be upside down, back to front, laying on top of the covers.
Because she’s not in the right place, more often than not when I go to move her, she stirs. And, sometimes, following all of this, she also needs a cuddle.
Sleepy cuddles are definitely my absolute favourite type of cuddles.
All squishy and warm, their sleepy bodies mould into yours, and sometimes you hold them for so long (accidentally of course), that they fall back to sleep.
Just for a second, you’re transported back to when they were babies, and you rocked them to sleep when they were teething, poorly or generally unsettled.
Once resettled, the little lady’s cuddly is also located, her covers are tucked back in, her hair is smoothed and her cheek Is stroked.
A little more alert than her brother, we sometimes have sleepy conversations that more often than not, go exactly like this.
“Mummy loves you.”
“Olivia loves you.”
“Mummy loves you more.”
“Olivia loves you most.”
We leave it there with her thinking she’s won that battle of love declaration, but obviously I know better.
These times, every night, when it’s just me and them-no noise, no worries and nothing to busy us, are so precious to me.
I sometimes find my mind attempts to lull me into being sad-into missing the baby cuddles, or worrying about the day I won’t get to do these sleepy little rituals with them.
Instead, I try and look forward to all the cuddles and sleepy conversations still to come. The endless possibilities of hair smoothing, cheek stroking, and murmured “I love you’s”.
Then, I feel like the luckiest mummy on the planet-and look forward to 10pm the next night, once again.