When Are You Keaving?

Between nappy changes, romper washes and midnight feeds, I haven’t found time to post.

Little man is nine weeks today!

We had our BCG Tuberculosis vaccine on Saturday, and we have our combined 8 week check up (somewhat late) this coming Wednesday.

  • This was at eight weeks ❤️
  • His eczema like rash cleared up 🧡
  • Visits from Vlad.

He didn’t shed a single tear at his jab – I’m a very proud mummy. He’s a very strong boy.

We’ve definitely established a bond. He looks to me to see if something should cause him alarm – needle goes in, looks at mummy. Mummy seems fine – but it hurts – but mummy is smiling and playing… jab over.

Little man has changed how I interact with V and that has most definitely strained our relationship. His housing situation hasn’t changed, but he can’t move in with me.

To be honest even if he could, I wouldn’t let him.

Since I moved out on February 2020, I spent a year and two months in places I couldn’t have guests. Not one. Never.

Now don’t get me wrong. I do love him. Things change when you have a baby. He’s still used to me waiting on him hand and foot, and I can’t do that anymore. Physically, emotionally. I just can’t.

Now I’m accustomed to having no one in my space. I have had a baby and he’s constantly in my space but, it’s our space.

When V comes over, he always knows his planned staycation but never says how long for, nor when he will leave.

He doesn’t cook. He doesn’t clean. He is in capable of putting the toilet seat down. He doesn’t even clean up for himself. He only comes over when he’s run out of money, and then he eats me out of house and home. While expecting me to cook that food for him, and when I’m skint, he doesn’t even come with the baby and I to the food bank, so that’s always fun for me.

🎵 All By Myself 🎶

He is always depressed (or coming down off something perhaps?), so he spends all day and all night in bed – little man and I shouldn’t co sleep but we kinda do. There’s two single beds, pushed together. He has one. I have one. When V comes, there isn’t space anymore.

I know it upsets him that he can’t bring Sunshine (the dog) along, but that’s something he will have to get over. She stays with his other ‘housemates’ and Dragon, the other dog.

I lost my shit at him. We had our health visit booked. I needed his things out of my flat and into the storage unit two doors down. I gave him a weeks notice, leaving me an extra day to clean.

He arrived three days later. Supposedly for one night. Four days later him, and his things still lingering.

I shouted. He stormed off.

I was relieved to be honest.

I Met Him At a Rave

An illegal techno rave in an commandeered hotel. Commandeered by squatters – parties in the event rooms and bar, residence in the hotel rooms.

My life wasn’t great at that time. I was definitely living a nomadic resistance, with a cash in hand ad hoc job.

This pub was legendary.

Two months later, I had moved in.

A month after that we were together.

Two and a half years later, our relationship is difficult to define, but we are still hopelessly intwined.

He chooses to live his life this way now, I’d say. Don’t get me wrong, I do quite enjoy the squatting vagabond lifestyle. It suits me to some extent, because I can do it with some finesse. I’m resourceful and will pragmatically learn some new shit if I need to; hospitality and human psychology though salte my area of expertise. Adeptly articulate (when I choose), this party animal can schmooze angry owners and sweet talk party hosts and DJs. It helped back then. My skills an asset.

Bitches, I’m the boss lady

There’s just a tiny human I love much more than the copious free entries and next to free dope. The discount drinks and raver reputations I have cast aside, opting for the more wholesome version of me that my little man has coaxed out through motherhood.

My love is stuck in the perpetual cycle that is break in, squat, go to court, face eviction. He fails to prepare himself with the next building, and when he does, his authoritarian tendencies tend to rub others up the wrong way.

Yes, you may be right, but you have to choose your words wisely. The people are sensitive junkies, don’t you know?

He seems relatively clean now, which helps us. One day we will party again, just for a night, like we used to.

For now, momma bear needs to think of little bear and provide – if he cannot provide, no problem, but I cannot sacrifice or cut short any of little bear’s necessary attention to give to him.

I’m sorry, that rave has been shutdown.

Free Doom Day

My angel is three weeks older today 👼🏾

I AM NOT VACCINATED

I refused to be vaccinated during my pregnancy, just in case. I now, as a mother, am actively sorting that shit out.

BECAUSE THE REST OF ENGLAND WILL BE SPREADING THEIR COUGHS AND SNEEZES AND DISEASES AS OF TODAY, POTENTIALLY COMPROMISING MY BABY.

Antibodies are transferred from mother to child via breast milk. I can provide a level of immunity to my angel without exposing him to the vaccine now.

I MUST GET THAT VACCINE SO WE CAN GO OUT, LEST WE HAVE NO SUPPORT AND DIE OF HEATSTROKE.

It’s not that deep, Ella. It’s not that important. Don’t panic.

This is especially important, considering we travel via public “we don’t need face masks anymore” transport for 90 minutes each way to see Nana and Grandad.

I am not taking him on the underground trains yet – I worry for his ears due to pressure changes and his health due to the lack of ventilation

We have to visit them often to leave this studio apartment, where the temperature inside is always 5c higher than whatever is outside

This was yesterday

Why don’t we stay overnight?

We can’t.

Why?

I have a court imposed curfew as part of my suspended sentence, due to some bad company I kept before he was even conceived. If I breach this, I face 18 months behind bars.

I’d miss all his firsts. All because some dickhead had some dope in the back of his car that I didn’t know about and refused to comment on.

Motherhood.

Tonight Will Be Tough

0630 Feeding time

0715 Nappy changes

0730 Laundry : Round 1, last night’s load

0830 Breast Pumping

0900 Telephone meetings with various midwives and health visitors.

0930 Waiting for 0930 meeting

0945 Still waiting

1000 0930 meeting

1100 Laundry : Round 2, hand washing baby clothes

1200 – 1600 Packing for a trip I’m not going on anymore, making bottles, pumping changing nappies etc.

1700 – 1730 Break – 🤍 calls me having a mini meltdown. No sleep for me.

I’m awake, I swear.

I don’t know where the last 6 hours have gone. I know I painted my fingernails and toenails , so that’s some sort of self care I guess. I mean, a shower would have been better but who’s really paying attention? I literally live in pjs now.

Fucking unemployed bums 😂

Between these achy feet, cracking nipples and alternations of insomnia and narcolepsy, my angel is giving me a run for money.

My parents have never been so supportive, though. ❣️

Virtual Health Visitor Visitation… eh?

So, after the “within 24 hours” midwife visit became a “one week later take baby to the hospital for heel prick test” instead, we have our first health visitor appointment today at 9:30am – via WhatsApp video call.

Hmm.

Not to say I want a potentially COVID ridden stranger traipsing through my parents apartment, claiming they’re presence assists health when it’s probably counterintuitive… just that it doesn’t seem useful; like a virtual visit could be easily manipulated, in theory, by some who may need a physical one. Is this the NHS standard? It can’t be.

My social worker is travelling from Croydon next week to visit, why can’t this HV travel from Newham to Newham? Pfft.

Just chilling, till we’re not 💙

The lack of consistency during this pandemic has been more panic and fear inducing than the illness itself.

Little Liars Everywhere

40+2

If you have any of those popcorn seeds, could you please? I don’t know how to do it

– My mother, just now

What?

You mean kernels?

You don’t know how to pop corn? Pretty sure you taught me when I was a kid. Why not just ask if I’ll do it for you? The point in this lie is? Deceit? You failed, I’m not deceived – not even amused. Bemused, perhaps.

My name is not Fleetwood – don’t Tell Me Lies.

One Baby Late, Two Baby Date

His majesty, the baby in utero, Kai, was due today, 24th June. As of yet, he has made no appearance. I’m growing more exhausted at the physical strain and more anxious about his movements. I can’t wait to meet him. See his little face. Touch his little hands. Speculate who he looks like.

Dysfunctional as we are, this is my family – the one I chose anyway.

On the plus side, my Bulgarian human and my furry four pawed baby came to see me. Though my human seemed equally as anxious as I was, my four pawed comrade seemed elated at my presence and positively curious about how much bigger my belly was.

I hope Sunny and Kai get along.

You Can’t, You’re Pregnant!

Said my 25 year old brother as he tried to stop me going outside to speak with ‘a friend’.

What?

I’m pregnant?!

Wow jeez, thanks for letting me know. I had been wondering what this growth in my front had been for the past 40 weeks. Thank heavens you were here to clarify that for me. Without your help, who knows when I’d’ve realised.

Men in a pregnant woman’s life, from a pregnant woman’s perspective, seem to adopt one of three stances, without our request.

1. Chivalrous Gentleman Extraordinaire:

He holds doors open, carries bags, sacrifices seats. He reads up on the process sometimes and tries to regurgitate facts to demonstrate his understanding. I assume he either admires all the mini human creation on show here. Either that or he is doing everything in his power to make sure that thing doesn’t spontaneously fall out of you right here and right now. He is either completely comfortable with this or panicking silently. He is Mr. Is It Coming Now?

2. Procreation Defamation Advocator

He often misunderstands the physical demands of this period of time are constant and exhausting, if he knew at all. He forgets at times, usually pivotal moments, may highlight you’ve done this to yourself (erm, no), and though his treatment of you as still a functioning human being is a breath of fresh air in small bursts, his lack of empathy is alarming. He is Mr. It’s That Time of the Month.

3. Gestation Conservatorship Sympathiser

He has probably heard of pregnancy / baby brain. Ideally not. He often adopts a stance that requires him to frequently remind you that you are pregnant as if this were a rare condition that renders you incapable of making rational decisions. Ergo, he must make these for you – deciding if you should go outside, for what reasons and for how long. If he has a means of transportation to support your mobility, he can be confused as chivalrous. He often believes he knows what’s best for you better than you do, for he has an honorary degree in what exactly? He is Mr. Do This Do That

These categories are not fixed in my perspective and men (as in the womb less , non-menstruating segment of the populous) can transition through these roles frequently.

Like your dad’s porno stash, once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

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