Tag Archives: thoughts

It’s Just Me.

25 Oct body belly

When I was about 19 or so, I went to a music festival called Alternative Nation. It was Australia’s answer to Lullapalooza.

Like any self-respecting music festival it was incredibly muddy due to enormous amounts of rain leading up to the day and on the actual day itself.

Towards the evening, there was a naked man, covered in mud, lurching around. People were recoiling from him in horror. He held his Earth covered hands out, palms up -

‘Don’t be scared. It’s just me.’

Now, on this particular day I may, or may not, have partaken in a small amount of LSD, but I nonetheless found this to be incredibly profound.

I’ve written before about how I feel about my body, my machine.

I’ve written before about how it’s taken 35 years to learn to love and respect thy sacred vessel. If you want to read about that stuff, it’s here.

I think I talked enough about body image and eating disorders and I don’t need to talk about that any more…..because that’s not my reality any longer.

I love the strength in my body.

I love my pins.

I love my shoulders.

I love my chin.

So, here I am.

Don’t be scared. It’s just me.

weheartlife.com

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Courage of Conviction

7 Oct

I saw a documentary aaaaages ago about birth, and the different choices women make.

There was a lesbian couple, a single lady, a woman undergoing about her 10th IVF treatment, someone who had elective caesarian, someone who had a home water birth, a lady who loved her nephews infinitely but never wanted a child of her own….you get the picture, right?
A mixed bag of all sorts.
It was a beautiful study into the wealth of choices we have available to us, but time and again I heard loud and clear that whatever your choice, there was always someone standing in the wings to judge you.

I had two natural births. I practiced the Calm Birth technique, that I’d practiced for a weeks in advance, and I managed to get through the experience with nothing more than a suck of gas.
Am I Captain Smug Pants?
Sure.
Am I amazing?
Absolutely.

If I had another child, would I have another natural birth?
I don’t know. I think I’m done on that particular experience (especially asking me now, 5 months after my last -not long enough to forget).

I have a friend with a babe two weeks younger than my daughter, Kiki. She elected a caesar, and is not breast-feeding. *sharp intake of breath*
I like to think I’m open minded to anyone’s choices but my inner Judge Judy knitted her eyebrows at this news, and went into vicious debate with my open minded self.
What kind of woman does this????

You know what kind of woman?

A woman who has the benefit of experience to know that she didn’t want to experience a long and potentially fruitless labour, or a hungry baby losing weight.

A woman who has the benefit of options available to her.
Watching this gorgeous mother sing her baby love songs leaves absolutely no doubt that the method used for baby expulsion has nothing whatsoever to do with the type of mother you are.

Is she amazing?
Absolutely.

I have another dear friend who was all ethno-bongo with her first labour, but it all went wrong at the last minute and everyone was very lucky that we live in the 21st Century, else the outcome may well have been drastically different.
With the labour of her second child she was scared going into it. She decided she wanted an epidural at the first contraction, thank you very much.
Does that make her less ethno-bongo?
Nope.
It makes her damned lucky that she has the opportunity to embrace the birthing experience in whichever way she feels is the best for her…..and she had an awesome birthing experience that is no less inspiring and beautiful.

No matter what you choose, in any aspect of your life, there is always someone waiting to judge you.
Whether it’s something simple like the clothes you wear, the way you live your life or the way you raise your children, someone else thinks they’re way is better, cooler or right.

The biggest gift we give to ourselves is courage of conviction. You need to back yourself.

You need to stand strong in your choices and stick by your guns. Only you know the best way to live your life, and provided you’re doing it with integrity and love, then no one has any right to judge your actions.

Live your life.

Your way.

Henri Matisse said creativity takes courage, but you know what?
Life takes courage.

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WANTED – ONE VILLAGE. Serious applicants need only apply.

12 Aug my tribe 8

Last week I went to the loo.
Nothing ground breaking there, however, last week I got to close the door.
Not only that, but after I was finished, I sat there for a minute or two longer than I needed to. Just sitting. Thinking about nothing. Just picking my cuticles and thinking about making a cup of tea.
Childless people would say ‘er duh, what’s the biggie?’ but anyone with sproglets would look at me with avarice in their eyes. How could I do this, they would ask? Was I not worried my toddler would be smothering my baby with his stuffed Rat, or sticking CDs in the toaster?
Nopes, because I was staying with my family.

Once upon a time, it took a village to raise a child, but now, in this bigger, better, faster age more and more people are doing it all alone. Neighbours don’t help neighbours, extended families don’t live together or even near each other and often families are simply unable to lend a hand due to their own requirements to be out earning money or playing bowls or whatever grandparents do when they’re not babysitting.
With the world becoming easier to access, and more people traveling and setting up shop around the globe, people are having their families miles away from their support networks. So, just how important is a support network when you have children?

The simple fact of the matter is, when your partner is at work all day every day and you’re stuck in Groundhog Day, it’s nice if there is someone to lend a hand now and then. Even just someone to share a cup of tea with, and chat about what’s going on (or not going on) in your life.

I wonder if post natal depression is on the rise because we do no longer live in this village way?
Mother’s Groups can be a great help (not my bag, but last round the escapees and I got on famously), and I’ve heard many women say they would not have survived without it….but when you have more than one child you can no longer go. Toddlers aren’t welcome, probably for fear of terrifying mums of newborns and creating a whole spate of infanticide.
I recently found myself going under. I was feeling increasingly sad, and very cranky.
Mister H was working on a big project, and was pulling long days. Combine that with his training and I felt like a single mother (hats off to single mums around the world….it is one mother truckin’ tough gig). I didn’t tell anyone I was struggling, because I couldn’t really put my finger on what the problem was. The day to day business of raising children is not exactly difficult, but the repetition, routine and constant negotiation with a toddler can grind you down, added to the months of disturbed sleep.
I’m lucky that my family live only an hour’s plane ride away, so I jumped that plane and got to where the love is flowing and the whiskeys are poured large.

While hanging at my bro’s house recently, my sister-in-law had the big kids in the bath together while I breastfed and then I started dinner, all nice and relaxed, not feeling like a jumped up juggler in curly jester shoes, keeping a chainsaw, an axe and an egg all in the air. I realised then that perhaps there was something to be said for polygamy. The husband has his hands full, sure, but the wives have sister wives to help them. Shame I’m such a shit sharer, that’s never going to fly for me.

Apparently, people are twice as likely to say yes to babysitting for an hour than people are to ask. If you need an hour off, and you do the math on that, you’ll realise you’re failing the maths test.
So, why is it so hard to ask for help?
I was discussing it with a girlfriend and I told her I felt like I was failing motherhood if I needed help. Millions of women don’t have help. She suggested that perhaps it was a sign of a great mother, one who recognised when help was needed to maintain the balance of sanity.

I’m not going to lament my lack of village any longer. I’m going to build a village. I’ve invited over a group of mums from my locality, 2 Poms, a Yank and a Dane. Sounds like a joke, doesn’t it? All we need to do is walk into a bar. They’re all here raising babies without their tribes. I’m going to suggest a weekly co-op babysitting vibe. Twice a month you look after someone else’s kids for two hours, but twice a month, you get two hours off.
It’s not huge, but it’s enough time to get your bikini line sorted before Chewbacca mistakes you for a mate, get the groceries done without having a scene in the biscuit aisle, or simply curl up and read a book quietly (might even get that book finished by 2014).

Space.

That’s all it is. Just a little space so I can just be me.
Not someone’s mum.

Not someone’s wife.

Just me.

My village may not be my tribe, but maybe we can start a new tribe?

Anyhoo, here’s some shots of my tribe I took on my trip. I really love the shit out of those guys.

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A Letter Of Complaint to the Manufacturers of the Female Anatomy.

20 Jul barbie

To Whom It May Concern at the Lady Factory,

I’d like to register a formal complaint, please, because I sincerely believe that your engineers were a tad hasty in the signing off of this project.
I would like to preface my complaint by saying I truly feel that many features are perfect. The lady lumps and curvy bits are generally to my liking, and I have to say that on the whole our genitalia is considerably less hilarious in appearance than our male counterparts.

Generally speaking, the female reproductive system is truly amazing, however, I do feel that the method of expelling a baby from the body could do with some tweaking.
In theory, your current methods works quite well, but there are a few fundamental design issues that ought to be addressed for the evolution of the next prototypes.

Primarily, I’m referring to the certainty that a vagina does not comfortably fit a watermelon. If the dislodgement process were currently perfect, ladies would not experience issues such as squeezing drops of wee whilst sneezing, hemorrhoids, cervixes falling out, rectal walls tearing, or any other number of unspeakable indignities. Please be advised that the nether regions of the female ought never see the glint of a sewing needle doing fancy stitch work.
EVER.

In future, please add more elastin to the mix for female epidermis, to ensure skin is never traumatised by sudden growth during pregnancy as ladies truly have enough body issues in a bikini without added stress of stretch marks from a process that is beyond their control.

Furthermore, after this process is complete and the fairer sex moves into the feeding stage, I would like to draw your attention to the major planning balls up that is mastitis. Whilst one is trying to provide nutrition to ones progeny, one ought not be afflicted by a searingly exquisite agony that makes one want to have an immediate mastectomy.
If you insist that this glitch cannot be fixed, at least work on some better treatment methods because the old ‘cabbage in the bra’ trick, leaves ladies smelling like a cross between a Russian deli and a fart.
While you’re perfecting the area of the breast, feel free to ensure that the nipple region is, in fact, not going to be blistered, torn or in any way mauled when continuously gummed and sucked for a 12 month period, as is the recommended usage period.

I have had extensive experience with this current model, and done boundless research in the public field, so if you require further feedback or would care to discuss any of these issues, please don’t hesitate to get in touch,

Yours sincerely,

An ex-bikini wearing, stitched up, sore breasted customer.

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A Letter To Me On My 36th Birthday

7 Jul us

Hey you,

Happy birthday, my friend.
I wanted to write you a love letter for your birthday because you’ve been feeling a little blue lately. You need to lighten up on yourself, lady. You’re doing the best you can and you’re doing a great job.
When you had dreams of riches and fame, you thought a life less ordinary was the only kind of life worth living. Lately, you’ve been viewing your life as very ordinary. Well, let me tell you, you are anything but ordinary and you have plenty to be thankful for.

Your toddler is driving you nuts because he is energetic. He has a curiosity that makes him get into everything. That’s because he’s bright and his brain works beautifully. Your two children are the very picture of health. Just look at a children’s hospital ward and see how much you have to be thankful for for this simple thing alone.
Your husband loves you and supports your creativity and dreams (despite occasional mocking, he’s a little bit proud.). He takes care of himself, emotionally and physically, but not so vain that he spends much more time in the mirror than you. Don’t resent the time he takes to pursue his passions, and don’t martyr yourself in your children’s name.
Make time for you -take time for you – to nurture your needs. You’ll be a better mother and partner if you do. Just do it. Starting today.

You’re in a financial position that allows you to care for your children, and though there may not be large amounts of disposable income, you do not go without the important things……and yearly European vacations aren’t classified as important, honey. Consider yourself lucky that you’ve experienced these things in the past, and there will be time again in the future. You have a lovely home, that you feel safe and comfortable in, and you’re paying off a mortgage that may at times feel like a noose in it’s commitment, but in fact, you’re getting ahead, paving a future for yourself and your family. It’s not easy to do that in this city, so you are in a very fortunate position.

Don’t measure your success in monetary measures. Success should be measured in happiness, and fulfilment. When you gauge your life on this scale, are you a success? There’s always room for more happiness and more fulfilment, but you’re definitely already a success. So what if you don’t quite know what you want to be when you grow up. Trust that you’re on your path and keep being creative.

It’s ok to feel sad sometimes, to have a blue day. It’s ok to feel lonely, but remember you have many friends who adore you and you only have to pick up the phone if you need to talk.
This is a big time in your life. The last two years have been the biggest of all. They have brought great joy, great learning, growth and challenges. This craziness will calm down soon and it will boil down to one  or two chapters of your life. It’s just consuming now, but there’s the whole rest of the book to be written yet. Laugh at the chaos, laugh at the dog poo on your shoes, laugh at the piles of washing because crying ain’t going to change it and laughing makes you feel better. As they say, laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you get a big, red baboon-arse face, or something like that. Don’t wish this time away, because it’s fleeting and you’ll never get it back.

Have a wonderful year, and may your hopes, dreams and aspirations all come to fruition, and be kind to yourself in the meantime.

Lots of love,

Me xxx

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School of Porn

7 Jun secretary

I read something terrifying the other day.

I’m not referring to the headline ‘Gay Porn Cannibal Eats Lover’ about the young gay Canadian porn star who was suspected of chopping up his lover (read full sensational story here), eating the juicy bits and then mailing severed parts to members of the Canadian Parliament in a rather sincere, if wacked, statement about Canadian politics. Nopes, I’m not talking about that.

I’m talking about something I read in Caitlin Moran’s (pronounced CAT-lin) book entitled ‘How To Be A Woman‘. Fabulous book, by the way, hailed by Grazia Magazine and my mother as something ‘EVERY woman should read’, and three chapters in – I’m inclined to agree.

Caitlin points out how when we were bursting with hormones in our early teens and busting to get our hand on as much sexy information as possible we were forced to fossick and forage for our one-handed reading material. My brother had a monster stack of Penthouse Magazines hidden under the bottom drawer of his cupboard. Don’t ask how I found them. My hormonal radar probably beeped whenever I walked past his bedroom door. Although I was certainly curious about the pictures in them, my time was actually spent reading the letters sent in by readers. Between this and the Clan of the Cave Bear series my sexual education was pretty, well, sexy and sensual.

Here’s the scary bit – These days with the accessibility of porn on the internet our children’s sexual education will come from the porn industry.

Now, I’m not anti-porn. I think if everyone is above the age of consent, and it’s enjoyed in moderation and not instead of a real sex life (unless of course, it’s all you can get) then porn is fine. We can certainly endeavour to police our kids’ viewing on the computer, but whether it’s at your house or someone else’s, they’re going to see it. With sites like youporn and redtube being accessed at the push of a button, they’re no doubt going to see any combination of people doing any combination of things to each other. BDSM, Threesomes, Foursomes, you name it. Everyone appears to love anal sex, double penetration and foreign objects the size of a small child and they’ll think this is what real sex is like.

Not only will our children think that sex is full of hair pulling, arse slapping and pulling funny faces (maybe that part is not entirely fictitious), they’ll also think it’s unnatural for women to have hair ‘down there’. So many of my friends have had laser hair removal to get rid of very single last pubic hair, and I’ve asked them ‘what will you tell your pubescent daughter when  she grows pubes?’. All of them have said they didn’t think of that. I know that it’s convenient and cheaper to do something permanent, but how can you let your child know it’s normal and natural when you yourself are as a bald as a child?

What about all of the tender stuff that they don’t show in porn? That’s the really sexy stuff. The vulnerability that comes with getting naked and making funny shapes with someone else and the hilarity that can ensue. Sex is fun and funny and beautiful. Caitlin also drew to my attention that porn rarely has any female satisfaction. It’s all about the men. We sure as shit don’t want our boys growing up thinking that, so we really need to not keep our head in the sand and broach this topic head on with our teens.

It’s easy for me to say this now, when the most awkward conversation we have is when I can’t understand a word D Man is saying and he keeps repeating it over and over while I continue guessing what it may be, like some weird toddler game show. I guess our future is full of awkward conversations about sex and drugs and rock and roll, but the secret will be for me not to appear awkward about it. To be as open and honest as possible and to encourage open conversation when I really wish my spotty, hormonal, teenager was still my baby!

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The Victoria’s Secret Diet

15 May IMG_0470marilyn

After months of a body shape that can only be described as “round”, now I’m at the stage where ‘getting back’ the pre-baby body is at the forefront of my mind. I’ve started on what I’m coining as the Victoria’s Secret Diet. We’ve all seen the evidence of how amazing it is. Miranda Kerr was back in a bikini in 3.5 days, and after baby number 3 Heidi Klum was on the runway in three weeks, and baby number 4 she had backstage in between outfit changes. Sure, they were pretty fit before but if they can do it, then surely a mere mortal like myself can spring back at 35 years old after baby number 2.

One blessing I do have, however, is the optical illusion that my upper body is affording the rest of me. My bosom has swelled- in two days- to a modest F cup (which, if you’re wondering stands for Freakin’ Enormous. I’m usually a generous C…..hoping I go down to standard Enormous soon as these puppies are a joke). The upside to this is that my waist instantly appears smaller and my head appears positively pin like.

The first step to the Victoria’s Secret Diet is obviously exercise and I’d like to share my regime with you, my readers.

SIT UPS -I’m doing about 100 of these a day….or night to be precise. Lying in bed next to KiKi, my newborn, and I sit up and look at her whenever she gurgles, sighs, grunts, cries or farts. Of course, she feeds about 500 times a night so I sit up from a lying position then too. These add up to many reps and I can feel my split stomach muscles positively knitting themselves back together into a six-pack.

SQUATS – Squats are a favourite of mine. Feeling your quads contract and support your body weight just knowing that your buttocks is tightening into something that can crack a walnut is very satisfying. I’m doing about 80 squats a day. My technique is as I sit down, I clench my face really tight, and lower myself really slowly onto the couch so as not to upset my stitches. I tend to sit a little side saddle but I just incorporate that into the work out and make sure that I alternate each time, ensuring my donut cushion is in the proper position to prevent a sporting injury.

BICEP CURLS – This is done with the aid of D Man. He’s finding the adjustment to having a baby sister is a little difficult and is feeling a little clingy. His sense of insecurity is requiring that I lift his 15 kilo frame into my arms at least 150 times a day, usually whilst walking or cooking, adding some fantastic incidental calorie burning also.

PLANKS – As I fish all of the Matchbox cars out of from under the couch I ensure to contract my core muscles as I flounder about face down blindly feeling around amongst the dust-bunnies and sultanas for said missing vehicles – Again aiding my six-pack.

Then there’s the diet component. I don’t believe in calorie counting, but I’m being very aware of what I’m putting into my mouth. Michelle Bridges recommends you eat like a queen in the morning, a princess at lunch and a pauper at dinner. She failed to mention snacking, which is also important to keep up energy between meals, especially when breast feeding.

Yesterday morning, before rising, I had a cup of tea and slice of Dutch ginger cake, but because I wasn’t actually up yet it doesn’t count towards the days intake. Lucky, because it’s quite buttery and Michelle probably wouldn’t approve. For second breakfast I had a croissant and bacon. Bacon is good protein, and protein is very important for my muscle recovery. Another great way to reduce calorie intake is to only consume half of what you usually would, so at lunch I ate half of D Man’s cheese and salad wrap and half of my Mama’s soup and toast, then I only ate half of my lunch also because I was feeling like I was going so well with my daily allowance.  Also, when breast feeding it’s important to keep up your calcium so I have a large bowl of Connoisseur ice-cream after dinner. Choc-Honey Nougat flavour is what going at the mo, but I would accept anything in order to stave off osteoporosis. So far I’ve lost 8 kilos in a week. As good as any of the Biggest Loser contestants although I do believe a large portion of that weight is currently hiccuping happily next to me as I type.

At this rate I’ll be back on the runway in no time at all.

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Expansion of the Human Heart

12 May my babies 2

One of my biggest fears when I fell pregnant for the second time was whether or not I would have enough love for more the one child. When you feel as though you love somebody more than life itself, how can you possibly multiply that? What if there physically wasn’t enough space in my chest (that’s where love lives, isn’t it? Not to be confused with ON my chest either which is in crazy E cup, fit to bust, glory right now) to fit more love? I was scared that perhaps I would have to share the existing love, as if measuring out ingredients to make two equal loaves, but how could you ever measure such massive quantities, or what kind of implement could ever properly measure such an intangible thing?

I had heard of women who loved their toddlers, of course, but when their new baby arrived they shunned their older child as they suddenly felt detached from them. They felt that, although the older child was previously their ‘baby’, they were now a big, cumbersome, boisterous creature that was getting in the way of bonding with the tiny newborn. Would this happen to me? COULD this ever happen to me? I’m crazy about my little buddy, D Man. We hang out and we do stuff together. Of course I get frustrated sometimes about the ‘Groundhog Day’ it can seem like I’m living, and sometimes D Man is not the most intellectually stimulating cat on the block, but surely, I would never shun him, my first born heart?

Or the other possible scenario is that I didn’t bond with my newborn, for whatever reason. Perhaps breastfeeding was difficult or I felt differently about the labour and I didn’t feel the same love that I felt with my first baby. When D Man was born I felt that my heart had suddenly been opened in a way that I would never have thought imaginable. My capacity for love, not just for my child, but for the entire world had grown exponentially with the placing of that little person in my arms. I suddenly saw a bigger picture that was not about me, or my personal happiness and I knew that from that day forward I would do whatever it took to protect and love this creature that was of my flesh. Would I be able to feel that again?

The answer, thankfully, is yes.

It’s not the same. The intensity of that first realisation of motherhood is lessened slightly the second time around, but it is because I cannot relive first moments, not because I feel less for my baby. It is sure to me now that your love does not halve, it doubles…..plus some. A considerable sum of some, it appears. We, as humans, have the ability to keep growing love infinitely and people with 10+ children must need a wheelbarrow with which to carry their hearts.

Just as I was thinking these thoughts I came across this quote from Yasmin Le Bon in a magazine – ‘Discovering that with every child, your heart grows bigger and stronger – that there is no limit to how much or how many people you can love , even though at times you feel as though you could burst – you just love even more’.

I couldn’t have said it better myself. Happy Mother’s Day, peeps.

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Recipe For A Good Man

1 May d man

With a little boy in my care, I often bury my nose in his tickly, soft hair and think I don’t have much time.

I’ve really only got a matter of years before he pulls away from me and although, one hopes, he’ll always be crazy about his Mummy, he’ll no longer nestle into me for comfort or hold my hand in public. I feel a sense of urgency to get this recipe just right. How do I grow the type of man I would like to meet in the world?

Many men have many great attributes, and I love men. But this one is my (our) responsibility to try and shape as best we can into a well rounded individual. How do you instil great confidence that does not come across as arrogance? How do you ensure that he has respect for women, and other races and gay people? How do you make a man that is a great communicator without being too wet? Someone strong, yet gentle with just the right amount of…….je ne sais quoi? I think about this a lot, as I watch my baby become a boy. Of course, it’s as important to think about the woman you’re raising when you have a girl, but I haven’t got as far as thinking about that in the dead of the night yet. I suppose that will all start as of next week, or so (whenever you’re ready, baby girl, we’re ready for you…. and my back is more than ready, sausage). When is a mother supposed to sleep with all of this to think about?

I’m still reading Raising Boys, (I’m reading it little bits at a time) and it’s resonating in so many ways. Admittedly, the real work will begin in a few years, but it all starts now, of course it does. We are learning and growing from the second we open our eyes. Steve Biddulph explains how our very first relationship with the opposite sex is our opposite parent so our attitude to relationships are formed in the first 6 years of our life. This is fascinating, and terrifying in equal portions. I guess D Man is likely to grow up with a penchant for girls who blow raspberries on his tummy, and bum cheeks, and gnaw on his toes, but I’m sure she’s out there. Steve goes on to explain that we don’t need men that wrestle buffaloes or cut down trees with axes made from mammoth bones anymore so we need to learn to channel that masculine energy into different kinds of heroic effort. He says we need to add language and feeling skills into our ‘super boys’ and he referenced men like Gandhi, Martin Luther King, and other dudes you may have heard of,  like JESUS AND BUDDHA…..no pressure. No wonder I sit up at night thinking about this!!! These men were all courageous, determined and sensitive men, that’s the type of man I’m trying to crack the recipe for. D Man doesn’t need to change the world, that’s not what I’m aiming for, but if he can positively affect the people he meets daily, my work is done. You know sometimes you meet someone and you just think ‘they’re a good man’. I’d be happy with that.

It’s a long road between now and setting him free to be the man he’s going to be, but I know it’ll be gone in a flash of firsts. His first teeth and steps are done, but we have many firsts to look forward to. First days of school, first games of football, first lounge room dance-offs, first loves and first heartbreaks……but first, I need to remember that I can only do my best and I’m not a super parent. I’m just me, and I have to pray that that will be enough.

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Love Thy Woodland Creature.

24 Apr _A9R8936


My relationship with my body has been somewhat turbulent. In high school I thought I was fat and looking back I see that really, I had some bad haircuts but I was otherwise ‘normal’. At around 17, my feelings on the matter got quite serious and I began a long and fairly ordinary road of self-esteem issues. Most teenage girls experience it at some stage but sadly, mine spiralled into a ten year long love/hate relationship with bulimia. The severity waxed and waned, depending on what else was going on in my life, but I have to raise my hand and say, yep, I was pretty average to my body, in various ways, in those years. I tried therapy and shrinks and they all wanted to pin responsibility on outer influences – my father not being there, leaving home too early, my Mama getting sick in my early teen years and me being unable to help her but none of if really resonated with me as I really owned it. It was mine. I think it was just something I could control, and that was it. I don’t talk about it in great detail, but it’s not a secret either. It was a part of my life and most of my friends know that I’ve struggled at times and I’m not proud of it, but I’m not ashamed either. I do know that I will endeavour to instil confidence in my daughter from an early age as I hear this kind of stuff starts so much earlier now due to one influence or another.

It’s important I tell you this so you can feel the importance of the next part of my story……I have had an about face on the matter and I now love my body. I have days where I’m not so thrilled about bits of it, of course, but now I have a deep respect for my body that goes far beyond appearances. My body is an amazing machine. I produced a child. I know that animals and humans alike have been doing it for a millennia, but my body did it, too. My skin, my cells, made another human being (with a little help).

It was during this process that I realised the worth of my body. I fell pregnant very easily, by accident in fact, but the best accident that could ever have happened in our lives. My pregnancy was without incident, a little burp here and massive burp there, but really, I had it easy. My labour was text book. It was damn hard work but my baby came out of my body naturally and in the way that I had hoped and dreamed would be possible. I don’t have bad memories of my labour, just a deep sense of gratitude to my body for doing what it was designed to do, with no dramas. I breast fed for a year, with no problems, with milk a’plenty in fact, sometimes way too much in public when I wished it was not spreading like a slow leak across my top, but when some of my friends were struggling and in tears over the process I was finding so beautiful I knew that I was lucky…..and here I am again, with days to go before I hold my new baby in my arms, and I feel like my body is on my side again, and everything is going like clockwork. Of course, I have no control over what kind of labour I’ll have this time, but I know that my body, my machine, can handle whatever is thrown at it.

So, perhaps my kit doesn’t quite sit where it used to and the days of wearing a backless dress with no bra are long gone, but it was worth every little sag or excess fold of skin. We earned them well, my body and I.

I think it’s always great to get some pregnancy photos, and my last ones were fairly standard and normal. They were pretty. This time I had an idea of how I could try to embody the mystical, miracle of pregnancy. I spoke with a photographer friend about my idea and he laughed quite heartily and told me I was hilarious, but he was keen to help. Maybe he just wanted to see my jugs.

My dear friend called them the ‘Woodland Creature’ images, and I kind of like that title. I just wanted to document my pregnancy, and do something a little kooky……….so The Woodland Creature was born.

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