This time last year Miss E was still in hospital, still hooked up to a ventilator, still living in a Perspex box. This time last year I had to wait while a nurse rearranged tubes and monitor leads before I could hold her. There’s still a very sore spot in my heart that my first mother’s day was spent in that kind of situation. That I had to scoff down my special breakfast before showering and dressing in less than five minutes because I’d realised that there was no way I could wait until afternoon to see my tiny girl.

This year has been an entirely different ball game. My big girl is now asleep in her own bed in her own home and, should I feel suicidal, I could go in and pick her up. It’s entirely up to me.

Popularity: 5% [?]

Popularity: 7% [?]

Thursday’s a very exciting day down here in the Mad House. It’s the day we clean all the things that everyone hates doing. There’s usually so much to do that things end up missing out and getting relegated to the following week when they get forgotten, accidentally on purpose, of course.

You see, my big New Years Resolution was to keep a cleaner house. You’ll notice the “er” on the end of clean, clearly indicating that vacuuming the lounge room floor occasionally and maybe doing the dishes before mold begins to grow makes the house noticeably cleaner then it was last year when I barely had time to nuke a Lean Cuisine.

It’s been a number of months since Miss E came home and I have to say, it’s a lot cleaner around here then I’d expected. We’ve gone from a house where the vacuuming was lucky to be done monthly to being done sometimes three times a day. Yes I know that sounds extreme, but when you have to set baby traps* around the house in the hopes that you’re baby will eat something more than dust bunnies you’d vacuum this frequently too. The bathroom is cleaned once a week and the kitchen, well we just don’t talk about that. All in all I’m quite proud of my efforts but I’d really like to get rid of some of the clutter. Alright, a lot of the clutter, perhaps even all of the clutter. It’s driving me slowly crazy; as I’m sure you’ve noticed.

*Miss E will eat anything, as long as she finds it on the floor. With this in mind I’ve begun to set “baby traps” which are small deposits of food located on the floor left for her to “find”. Of course they require frequent removal and replacing but so far they seem to be working.

Popularity: 9% [?]

Let’s not mince words here, I’m a fat chick. Being a fat chick I knew, even before I got pregnant, that I wouldn’t have a nice round, obviously pregnant, baby belly. It just doesn’t (usually) happen. Never the less one of the things I was looking forward to most was looking into a mirror and seeing that I was pregnant. I didn’t care that no one else would be able to tell, that I’d just look extra fat to the rest of the world. In fact I thought that might actually be an advantage as I really loathe being touched and could think of nothing worse then little old ladies with their wandering hands.

Every day–more often several times a day–I’d send in front of the mirror and look. Smoothing my hands over my clothing, sometimes taking them off, in hopes of seeing a hint of that belly, and though I did look slightly rounder, less flabby, it never came. If I laid flat on my back I could see a bump, just a bump, at 24, 25, 26 weeks. This is one of my biggest regrets. I knew it wasn’t normal for my belly not to be growing and I still believed my doctors when they said my growth was fine.

As far as the things I missed out on, this is by far my biggest source of sorrow. Even now, over a year later, tears still well up in my eyes and my heart still breaks a little when I see a nice, round belly. Even when its owner looks exhausted and dark eyed. My pregnancy sucked, even before I got sick with the preeclampsia it sucked, this was the one thing (aside from the baby of course, but that goes along with looking forward to the end of my pregnancy) I was excited about. This point still sits clearly on the “pros” side of the list about whether or not we’re going to have another baby.

Popularity: 31% [?]

You know, I read somewhere that it takes about fifteen years for you to get really good at something. Now, that’s fifteen solid years of doing; of practicing. I wonder how long it takes for someone, like me, to get good at something when we’re only doing it half assed.

Popularity: 29% [?]