It's all about Barnaby

I knew it would be a long time before my next post. In fact as I write this I wonder when I'll finish it. I'm getting good at starting stuff, but getting to the finish line is another thing altogether. Not least because I am in the worst possible typing position, with a table that is too high, and a lump of Barnaby pulling at my back as he lies grunting in the sling. I am sat precariously on a cushion, arching just enough to not knock his nose on the edge of the table.

The last blog seems like a lifetime away - and in many ways it was. The labour itself felt like a lifetime. They say that the mum can forget it instantly when the hormones wash over her - and to be honest an element of that is true - but I also know that if I let my mind wonder I can go back to the darkness of each drawn out stage. Some of the hours go missing and when I try to reveal them in my mind's eye - a lid tugs down and tells me not to. But I can remember if I let myself - the trick I have learned is not to go back there - not a good idea if Barnaby is to have a sister or brother one day. You can talk stats with people - 5 days without sleep since the first contraction; 36 hours in hospital bracing for the pain every 3 mins; 6 hours in the birthing pool; 4 hours of being able to see his hairy head pop out and that final push, but not quite making it.....My way of moving forward is not to let my head remember the pain, the endurance, the fear he was never going to come out; but instead fast-forward to that overwhelming moment when he was passed to me - head covered in hair, little finger nails and knuckles bending so perfectly, round pink cheeks and lips immediately suckling as he settles on mummy's chest - knowing who I am, recognising my heartbeat. Somehow - he slides across my chest and finds my breast, opens his mouth wide - lungs doing their business and latches on with a greedy gaping mouth. I am completely hands free - unable to summon the energy to guide him myself. And despite my exhuasted physical, mental and injured state, a relieved happy smile tugged at my lips - and from that precise moment, I realised that my life had become all about Barnaby.

Alex got his moment too. After the pain of watching me go through that prolongued and agonising journey - his eyes so excited and desparate for the little fellow to come out - he is handed Barnaby to care for whilst I am whisked off to theatre. As they started to wheel me away - I caught a glimpse of Alex holding his mirrored son quitely and purposely pulling tongues at each other - and the smiled tugged at Alex's lips as well, and our little family unit begun.