Mood: A Lockdown Pregnancy

Let’s talk lockdown pregnancy.

I got pregnant July last year, and listening to government guidelines we were full expecting to have been out of lockdown shortly after. As months came and left just as quick, lockdown was reinstated.

Even as an introvert the news on Halloween was dread inducing. We debates about pulling Delilah out of nursery just because hubs is classed as high risk with being type 1 diabetic, and with me being pregnant too. It was a real debate.

I’d been working on flexible furlough since maybe August when I had gone back after the first lockdown. Every thing came to a stand still yet again. I was back on furlough at 3 almost 4 month’s pregnant. As much as I felt safer having less chance of collecting any of the nasty bugs as we refer to them in our house, I also felt isolated.

The majority of my besties are at work, the girls I finally clicked with and have the best relationship with. I cherish the relationships I have with each one of them, because I’ve simply never had that group of friends to turn to. I’m a one on one person normally. I have, I would say two very close bestest besties but even then we go weeks and months without talking sometimes. This works for us. My work besties, pre-lockdown, I saw every other day if not every day. So to be away from that friend/adult/coworker contact and not be able to share my pregnancy with pretty much anyone outside my household was hard.

Pregnancy was hard without peers to make me feel like I was normal. The contact once we all got put on furlough again slipped as it does/would with everyone. We all have our separate lives, our families because we’re all mums, and we all have different situations that take up our time so naturally our chat slipped. It just meant going through it without them, which makes me a little bit sad to be honest. These girls helped make my hen do good after the shit show it started out being, they turned up the morning of my wedding to help me celebrate even though they couldn’t be there at the actual event, to not be able to share this pregnancy with my besties is just a little bit crap. Okay, not a little bit. More like a monumental amount of horse shit.

Being an introvert I have the tendency to withdraw from social situations as it is, and with a full year of being home alone with a toddler 85% of the time I’ve become accustomed to dealing with everything alone. Don’t get me wrong I see hubs every day when he gets in, but he’s knackered and there’s no way he’s going to understand the utter tribulations of the day. A small girl saying “mummy” 3986 times a min every day, or how touched out you get from having a newborn feeding from you every 30mins on a cluster feed day. Mum friends get it. But I, like every other pregnant and stay home mums have not had that over the last year. It has damaged my relationships. To what extent, I’m not sure yet. I will certainly try my best to step away from my introverted tendencies once it’s through and try and rekindle paused friendships.

Hubs worked pretty much the full lockdown. He had a couple of weeks in March after the NHS sent a very late letter saying he should be isolating. I was so thankful for the adult company and the extra pair of hands near the end of our pregnancy. Delilah loved having Daddy all to herself too when he was home. More time to play and hottub together. She misses him like crazy when he’s working his long weeks and not getting in till six sometimed later most evenings.

We made the decision to pull Delilah from nursery at the back end of 2020, so I feel like lockdown has in away been impact full on her social life too. Where she was making friends at nursery, she’s now been out of the childcare/early years settings for (by the time school rolls round) 9 months. She will also be the youngest in her class. I’m a little worried it will put a blocker up for her in regards to making friends and school and just coping with the fact she’s there every day. I think there will be an adjustment period, a hard one and I hate that it is that way for her. Don’t get me wrong she’s the most friendly and social little miss ever, we only have to pass the park with another child in and she’s made a buddy. I know she’s going to catch up qns probably surpass some kids in her class as she’s very confident socially, but mum’s worry. It’s my job to have cogs constantly turning in prep for any situation for her, trying to prepare her, even just getting her saying please and thank you without having to ask her.

Once Delilah is in school, Euan and I will be embracing whatever is on offer in terms of baby classes. I feel like I need it this time, I never did with Delilah. Its been so long between seeing others in my peer range I do feel like I need to get out there and make mummy friends for sure.

I felt like I was duped this pregnancy. I feel like I missed out on a lot. The appointments were slashed more than in half, I think I⅔ had maybe 4 my entire pregnancy. Sharing with family and friends, a baby shower or get together. People, minus a little handful ended up being not interested, and that’s okay I guess we all had our things going on; but if there hadnt had been lockdown the outside interest would have been there. I might be an introvert, but it would have been nice to have that little acknowledgement I guess. A kind of break for myself was out the window at any point. Any kind of break for hubs and I was certainly out the window too, although luckily we did get out anniversary night away when lockdown had ever so slightly eased back in October.

So yeah, lockdown pregnancy wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. It was hard, some days more than anyone will ever care to know. I am however thankful for the extra time I got with Delilah, the weeks Hubs was out on furlough and the bond with my newborn which I probably wouldn’t have had if it hadn’t have been for c-19. There are always silver linings!

I feel like this has been a bit of a moaning post and I’d rather keep positive on my social platforms. On the other hand, I also feel like it’s the truth and worth noting down even if its just for me to read back and remember how it was.

Have you had a lockdown pregnancy or birth? What was your experience?

Sending love,
L, xox

Eternally Formal in a B.O Ridden Waiting Room

Thursday was the day I had to go to The Job Centre to confirm my claim for universal credit (oh the joy). I was dreading this little visit. Thursday was a hugely busy day and this was my least preferred part.

The location – Parking and walking through a down trodden part of Bradford was not my idea of a good time to start off with. The Job Centre is located on Manningham Lane; for those of you who don’t know this part of Bradford I strongly suggest you don’t take a trip there unless necessary. Everything looks scruffy, filthy and well past its best. It’s like the sun got sucked out of the sky and your soul is slowly being consumed by a black hole that waits and feeds on all glimmers of possibility. I’m so very glad that I had care for Delilah on Thursday, I will aim never to take my child to this soul destroying place.

I’ve only ever been to The Job Centre once before. I felt exactly the same the first time, this being four year ago when I found myself redundant for the first time round. I had dressed as I would for an interview, but most people in the vicinity looked as though they had rolled out of bed and not showered for at least three weeks. People wearing tracky bottoms, looking like they had taken a dump in their slacks and carried on regardless – the smell from some would confirm this to be true. The gentleman who decided to take the seat behind me (we were practically back to back) had an odour so strong I had to strategically place the back of my hand under my nose and over my mouth so as not to breathe in the stench. The rancid smell of body odour was the thing I remember the most from the last time I had to make the visit. The thing of nightmares.

“Stay positive” I kept telling myself “It will be over soon – you’ll have a job by next week” My pep talks got me through the wait as did the thought of the two interviews I would sit that very day. I was feeling decidedly overdressed at the start, but convinced myself that I would never turn up to any interview in anything less that formal business attire and this should not be any different, even though the rest of ‘the Job Centre Crew Massive’ looked like death warmed up. Even the email concerning the time of my ‘appointment’ called it an interview. First impressions are important after all!

I was utterly determined they would not treat like a twirp, and went in ready to fight back and burry the potential insultee with words. The last time I was there I was told I was over qualified so they couldn’t help me. Let me clarify that I was out of work for a grand total of two weeks, and the claim I put in (just in case) for job seekers allowance was rejected because ‘I hadn’t contributed enough national insurance’. This was an absolute joke of a comeback as I have been working and paying national insurance since I was 16. I know people walking straight out of school at 16 claiming everything and anything they could, but I couldn’t even claim JSA regardless of working my entire workable life. Anyway back to Thursday, I was finally called forward (ten minutes later than my stated interview time) and the woman who I sat with was lovely. She didn’t talk down to me which was my major concern and led me through what would happen after going over the obligatory security details.

As we were sat discussing the bits we need to, there was rather a large hoo-ha outside the neglected building we exist in. As in noise, plus police sirens. Well that was comforting – at least there was police sirens. The woman turned to her co-worker and said “wonder what drama we’ve got today?” I’m sat there thinking that that statement means it happens on the regular and I would rather be almost anywhere else but here. She swiftly bid me farewell after that exchange and I cautiously left the building feeling pretty relieved that this particular interview, in this particular place was over.

Walking back to the car, I had no desire every to step in that hole again. As I drove off of Manningham Lane, the darkness lifted and the sun peeped through the grey clouds. The sun was magnificent, all ready for my interviews that afternoon and evening.

Job interview #1. Yes, this was just outside central Leeds. I’d planned where I would park, drove there with plenty of time to spare. The car park I had planned to park in was rammed. There was no way in hell I was getting in there. So I Google mapped it to the nearest car park. I ended up in Leeds city centre. Which while driving, is my idea of hell. I am far too impatient and full of road rage to deal with a city centre I just don’t know – most especially on my way to an interview. I spotted an on street parking spot, abandoned the car and threw money in the machine.

I set of walking. This idiot had only parked a 25 minute walk away from where I was interviewing. Would have been okay, but my little detour into the city had cost me time. I had 17 minutes to walk a 25 minute walk. I called and let the appropriate parties know, but I hate being late and having to follow Google maps on foot is stressful. The clock in the top right hand corner of your phone screen getting ever closer to the time you are supposed to be there, the map counting down clearly outside the time scale you should be working to. The walk was allllll up hill, and I’m not even talking a little hill. I’m talking like a really steep hill. The kind you would cycle up if you were in training for The Tour De Yorkshire. Realistically I should have grabbed an Uber to my location to save me the stress, and by the time I got there I felt like I had lost 90% of my bodily fluids. I never sweat, I sparkle. I had a very sparkly face. I was completely blessed that I had thrown flip flops in my bag as well as wearing heels. Flip flops were my saving grace at this point.

Got to the entrance of the building I had been told to go in. There was only a bunch of construction stuff going on right outside it. I couldn’t use that door. I walked back on myself to the last door I saw, threw on my heels and started to wander the corridors of a huge, huge building. I was so in the wrong place. I talked to some guy behind a desk who looked at me as though I had just landed my spaceship on his cat, but he managed to get a hold of the lady who was interviewing me even though it seemed like I was in the entirely wrong place. Once in the company of the interviewer things looked a little brighter.

SO as you can tell, this particular part of Thursday was highly eventful, and it all happened before 1pm. I was so very pleased to get home to Delilah. I missed her the entire morning I was gone. It felt like forever being so away from her. The latter half of the day went swimmingly with no mishaps or parking errors getting to the second interview. Here’s to next week when I should know how it all went in their opinions.

XOXO, L

The Motherhood Penalty

It has come to my attention that The Motherhood Penalty is an actual thing.

There was me thinking I was the only one struggling with being made redundant on maternity leave and struggling to find a career to suit me now. The thing is, it isn’t just me. The Motherhood Penalty is REAL. We’re talking real pay gaps for mums in comparison to a non- parent counter parts, less promotion opportunities, held to higher punctuality standards than others. We are less likely to be suggested for hire than a less qualified woman without children. Just have a read at a few stats here (http://gap.hks.harvard.edu/getting-job-there-motherhood-penalty). Before you start, I know this article is full of American stats; but it is applicable for the UK and most likely a bunch of other countries too. There are plenty of other articles on the subject too. Read them, I implore you.

The last time I was made redundant I was in a new role within two weeks. This time, I’m 3 years more experienced. This time, I’m a mum. This time, it’s almost been a month already. As a society, it is our job to change this. As a mother who wants it all, it’s my job to hunt what I want down. Why should we settle for less than our counter parts? Those who choose to be dog owners are not penalised for their life choice, yet you have a child and that’s it. You certainly can’t have a career AND a family. You most certainly can’t do them both at the same time, let alone do them well. You must pick. You must pick one or the other. You can only be good at one thing – Family OR work.

That’s where I’m saying it needs to change. We are stuck in an archaic time. The stay at home mum suffers prejudice. It can be seen as old fashioned, lazy, and unattractive. “Gain a baby, lose a brain” this attitude spills out on to the mother who wants or needs to work, making it increasingly difficult to get back in to work. On the other hand, mothers who choose to have a career are classified as uncaring, lacking maternal instinct and cold. Working mothers have it hard. The guilt of having to pay someone else to help raise their child. Then there is the pay gap between them and their childfree counterparts, not to mention the problem of sourcing reliable and trustworthy childcare.

We have come so far with equality yet we are still stuck with The Motherhood Penalty. For some reason the work world thinks that us mum’s supposedly stray from competency after birthing a child. In actual fact we gain a whole lot more than we ‘lose’ (the only think I lost is my size 6-8 waist). We go through the most incredible process of carrying, giving birth, feeding and caring for a new born infant that relies on us for everything. There are sleepless nights and long busy days that follow including numerous visitors who want to put their grubby hands all over that precious new born, which you in turn have to politely but firmly warn off (which is a new skill gained for a start).

Mums are the most amazing creatures on this planet; and it’s about time that companies realise that if we choose a child adorned life, we probably have more to offer after having our child/children than we did before. We are peacekeepers, cooks, cleaners, mediators, matriarchs, admin assistants, PA’s, nurses (in the most relaxed sense of the word), transportation co-ordinators, activity planners, risk assessors, the photographer, the personal shopper and stylist, the confidante, the politician, the dietician, the CEO and the fucking skivvy. We are the whole god damn package, and some of us even stay up late to work on our passions too.

So keep up work world; we’re ready for equality amongst mothers in the work place. Let’s hope my new role (whatever it maybe) is up to speed.

Confident Kisses,

XOXO, L

Plateau

I’ve reached an empass. I’ve got to a point in my ‘kick the additional weight’ journey where my body is just like NOPE. The scales have barely moved this month and the fact that I’ve been well and truly on it is driving me nuts.

I’m drinking plenty of water on a daily basis, working out 5-7 days a week for between 30 and 60 mins not including any walking I do. I’m eating so well, all clean no processed foods, no additional sugar or salt. I don’t understand. So yeah, that’s where I am with that. Supper disappointed that my body is refusing to respond.

In a rebellion against my non-responsive body I’ve been looking up workout on Pinterest. This one move, particularly the picture to show it, made me laugh out. I think there might be something wrong with me because this tiny little picture, was to me, hilarious! I like how the woman is just like exactly the same with her ponytail is slightly skewed to one side, and she’s higher up in the little blank box she resides in. Like I said, pretty sure I should have found it that funny.

Delilah and I spent the day with my brother and Ems. We spent it walking in the sunshine, letting the girls splash in the water table and playing with the two huge dogue de bordeaux that live with Ollie and Ems. Here is a douge nose, a very lovely nose it is too.

Delilah took her hat off at every opportunity, and then threw it in the water and ate the grand total of 5 mouthful of dinner. Poor kid seems to have got my immunity for pollen. She was streaming, and of course the chemist wouldn’t sell anything to me as she is too young. So off to the doctors we go so they can prescribe something for my little lady bug.

Despite the hayfever, hopefully we will see more of this beautiful weather!

Xoxo, L

Don’t Be So Hard On Yourself!

In the world of positivity, plenty of people say “don’t be so hard on yourself”. I’m guilty of saying it to others myself, but I find myself question the logic behind this.

Being ones own worst critic, is something that I believe to be a positive. Holding yourself accountable because you haven’t done good enough to your own standards is a powerful thing. A self motivational and powerful thing. After all you are in control of your own journey.

To be confident, we are told to master not caring what other think of us. Their opinions, next to ours shouldn’t have an impact on what we do or how we proceed on our own path within reason. If this is so and advice to be followed, which is what I see as true, should we not be relying on ourselves to be our own critics and cheerleaders?

When we encourage someone to “not be too hard” on themselves, are we encouraging some to slack off? Are we asking them to stop listening to their own inner critic? The very same inner critic that will push them to do better?

Food for thought indeed. I’d love to know what you think on the matter.

Life update: Today was not sunny. It started last night about 11ish. The temperature dropped and the wind picked up. When it’s a sweet and warm evening we often sleep with the window open, last night was one of these nights. Man got up twice because his blood sugars where monstrously high (diabetic type 1) so he needed to pee constantly. Then the wind kept making the curtains do this wild dance, hitting the footboard of the bed. Talk about disturbed sleep. Once the window was shut, man settled and I finally caught some Z’s.

Man gets up relatively early, but my plan was to beat him to the finish line and squeeze a run in before he went to work. I’ve been thinking of running again for a while. I was so cream crackered (nackered), that I couldn’t bring myself to get up on the 6am alarm. So here’s hoping tomorrow will be a better start.

Delilah and I got up, worked out, showered, dressed and painted my face ready for the day. It still looked like it was going to absolutely bounce it down, so we threw on out rain coats and got out anyway.

It did rain, but only lightly and we missed the most of it because we were in a village shop. Any which way it was a good day. A positive one, with smiles from every angle from Dela.

An update from yesterday’s news flash. Both women in the accident are okay. In hospital, with injuries but I believe from what I’ve read nothing overly serious. The crash wasn’t because of a police chase with a drug deal, police confirmed this with a local news hound. Im glad they’re okay, this was and will remain the main thing.

The situation in the village is somewhat quieter than it has been in previous months, but this morning a local drug addict was seen walking on the school route barely able to stand up. What logic that is! Get absolutely high on drugs and apear at the same time and on the same walk children take to school. I’m no-one to tell folk how to live their lives, but when it starts to impact young children enough is enough. It’s never going to be cut out completely, and that’s the sad truth as far as drug are concerned but we can make it harder for dealers to deal in our village. I urge you, if you see a deal being completed, get the car reg and report it!

Happy Wednesday Lovers.

Xoxo, L.