My Blog Posts

Nights Like These

The Arrival of Bailey

Our new adventure starts here

 I always thought of myself as an Elizabeth Bennet type. Independent, intelligent, witty, refusing to marry for anything less than the very deepest of love. I do like to think of myself as all these things and my husband will definitely tell you that if there was a Miss Independent, that crown would be mine! But the thing is I turned out to be more of a Charlotte Lucas than Elizabeth Bennet. How the hell did that happen? Please do not get me wrong, I didn’t marry just for a comfortable life. Without being overly soppy, I love my husband to bits (Elizabeth) and I would be lost without him. No seriously, my sense of direction is terrible. On the practical side of things, we are a good match (Charlotte!) and I like to think that we balance each other. But dear God do I want to kill him about 70% of the time we are together!! He just has the knack of rubbing me the wrong way (get your mind out of the gutter), and he winds me up to no end! If I’m not picking his dirty clothes off the floor, I’m falling over laptop wires that I’ve told him a million time are not toddler proof or obviously wife proof. The endless night before requests for non-dryer friendly shirts or trousers. Coming in at bedtime and getting Puddin all wired up just as I got her settled down and ready to drift off!! Anyone one else have a partner like this? Anyone?? There have been times when he barely got away with his life! I am not known for my sweet temperament and patience! It has been a struggle, but I have managed to keep him alive, which, I have to admit, has surprised my entire family. Well let me give you some helpful tips I picked up over our 12 years together, that has kept him in the whole of his health and me out of prison. Please Note: I titled this Piece ‘How Not to Kill Your Husband’ because that's what I have. All these tips can, of course be tailored to suit your own needs; be it husband, wife, partner, human, or extra-terrestrial. There will be no discrimination here, only helpful advice. Tip 1: Do Not Cook His Food This might sound a bit strange. We all have to eat, and I can assure you that Husband is no different. However, it is just too easy to slip something nasty but undetectable into food. Trust me, I watch CSI and Criminal Minds, I know what I’m talking about. Your kitchen is a dangerous place. Picture this, you're preparing a lovely pasta dish, maybe with a side of garlic bread. Everything is going along smoothly until Husband comes in and announces that he needs this shirt washed and dried for a meeting in less than 5 Hours. Suddenly, you’ve put arsenic on the bread instead of garlic and your husband is none the wiser! It might seem lazy or selfish, but believe me when I say, it will save his life every day. Tip 2: Do Not Iron His Clothes Again, another strange one. From my own experience, murderous rage clouds common sense, especially when I’ve already got 101 other things to do. When the above-mentioned shirt is dry and he needs help ironing it, it is so hard to remember to take him out of the shirt first! I already have a to do list longer than myself, Puddin running riot with the cat and dog. My brain has no room left to remember trivial things like not ironing Husband’s clothes on his back. Hot irons, and angry Susan do not, living Husband make! So please for his own health and safety, make him iron is own clothes. Tip 3: Do Not Garden with Him Sounds idyllic, doesn’t it? A lovely spring day, sun beaming down and both of you working side by side. Then he says he’s getting a new lawnmower, gazebo, bark, and god knows what for the garden. Now you’ve only been waiting for a new vacuum for 6 months, but his needs are more important. You start off weeding and digging holes for all the pretty flowers you bought together. The more he talks the more you dig. All of a sudden, you’ve dug a six-foot hole and bashed him over the head with a shovel. Into the hole he goes but now the roses do look lovely! It’s easier than it sounds. So please for your partners safety when you see the sun shining stay inside with a good book and a glass of wine. Tip 4: Don’t even think of DIYing Together You’ve both got the day off and have planned to spend the day turning the spare room into an office/library space. You’ve had the bookshelves for ages and now they’re finally being put together. You manage to manhandle the desk into place and start on the shelves. You can’t wait to see all your books up on them. You get the first one done, and it looks magnificent. You two are on a roll. Halfway through the second one he announces that there is a match on the TV at 2pm and you’ll have to carry on without him. Well now this certainly throws a spanner in works. Or more precisely the hammer at the back of his head. Now you have 2 problems, he’s making a mess all over the floor and your once pristinely white bookcase is speckled red. Let’s face it, he was always good at making a mess and not being around to clean it up. As for the bookcase, you decide that white with red dots is a good colour scheme and you take yourself off to buy some paint. Tip 5: Never walk down the stairs behind him Now I know its traditional to let a man walk down the stairs in front of you, in case you slip he can break your fall. However, its just far too tempting while staring at his back and he has just said something incredibly stupid to give him a little nudge down the stairs. Once again you find yourself with a fresh crop of roses in the garden. But all the neighbours have been admiring your green thumb. Tip 6: Do not sleep together Now I know that sometimes it’s nice to have someone to curl up with but trust me, for his own health and safety, get separate rooms. Picture this, you’re lying there tossing and turning before you fall asleep, replaying the events of the day and of course he has falling into a deep sleep the minute his head hit the pillow. Then you hear it, its soft at first then it gets louder and louder until it sounds like a chainsaw in your bed. He is snoring. You know there is only one cure. You gently take a pillow from under his head and press it down over his face until eventually after a small struggle the snoring stops. These are my top 6 tips on how not to kill your husband. Now this is not an exhaustive list, I am sure there are many more tips and tricks to keep your partner safe and healthy during your marriage or relationship. Was your top tip mentioned here? If not let me know, and I might do a part 2!

I became a mother for the first time in May 2016. It was the best feeling in the world. That flood of emotion, the overwhelming love that the midwives in the prenatal clinic told me about was indescribable. It was just a shame that my baby was one and a half at the time. Confused? That’s alright, I’ll explain how that happened. On the 19th of November 2014 I walked into my last prenatal clinic. I was 40 weeks pregnant and due the next day. I had developed gestational diabetes and was monitored very carefully. The last four weeks had been torture. I was uncomfortable and sick of being told I would be induced next week. I was expecting the same thing on week 40. I had barely sat down in front of a doctor I hadn't met before when she cried, “Why are you still here?” She rang the hospital and told them I was on the way to be induced. I don’t think we really realised what was happening because we went home, had lunch, and checked the bags before we went. At 6pm I was induced and sent off to walk the corridors. The pains started straight away and got steadily worse. Walking became difficult as my body prepared for what was about to happen. I won't go into the gory details, anyone who has been through it, knows what I’m talking about. At 10pm I couldn’t take anymore and after an examination was declared 1cm dilated. My husband later told me that the midwife had stretched the truth to encourage me. He was also told that due to my slow progress, there would be no baby until the next day at least and he would have to leave for the night. I panicked. I would not stay there alone, I couldn’t. Because of my history with depression and anxiety and the fact that no one else was in ‘active labour’, Husband was allowed to stay, and we were set up in a delivery room for the night. To be honest if he had been told to leave, I would have left too. I’m stubborn like that, never mind the fact that I was scared out of my mind. And apparently, so was BB. Half an hour later, I was begging for drugs. I didn’t care what it was as long as it worked. I was given pethidine. That was where it all went sideways. The pethidine didn’t do anything for the pain. What it did do was make me feel completely out of it. I had no control over myself. I had to be given an IV during labour and because I was so shaky the midwife couldn't get it into any of my veins and had to get a doctor to do it. Husband had to stop them giving me the epidural I begged for because I could not keep still. The same epidural I had been so dead against until this point. Between the pethidine and a few panic attacks, the next four hours are a little blurry. I remember snippets of what happened, and the rest is a combination of nightmares, and what I was told later. Some of what I remember are not true memories. I would tell my husband what I thought I remembered, and he would tell me how it actually happened. I got very little sleep in the hospital. I would dream that while holding my baby, she would slip out of my arms and smash her head on the corner of the bedside locker or the floor. I could sleep a little when Husband was there, BB was safe then. Any doctor or nurse who checked on me was asked the same question. “When can I go home?” Then the dreams started happening when I was awake too. I struggled to deal with all the visitors too. I just wanted to be left alone. I was in shock and having a hard time processing what had happened. I didn’t want to see people or be asked the same questions over and over. “How are you feeling? Are you glad it's all over? Wasn’t it worth it? When’s the next one?” I feel like I’ve been ripped apart and hit by the entire M50 rush hour. It’s not all over, I have a tiny human totally dependent on me for everything. No, it really wasn’t worth it. And finally, next one?? Are you having a laugh?! I wanted to go home, lock my front door, and ignore everyone for weeks but Husband said we couldn’t do that. While all this was happening, I was struggling to breastfeed. It was not going well. I was uncomfortable and she was fussy. We couldn’t seem to get the latch right. It was a learning curve for both of us and we were not doing well. I was constantly worried that she wasn’t getting enough, and she was so unsettled. This continued for 5 days. But then Husband had enough of the crying and screaming from both of us. He left the house to search for a twenty-four-hour garage that would hopefully sell formula. I couldn’t give her that first bottle. I knew it was the right thing to do but it broke me a little. She settled better than she ever had after that first one. I decided I would express and try to feed her one bottle of breastmilk a day. She brought the entire one ounce back up. If I had felt broken the night before, this killed me. To me, this was a complete rejection. The exhaustion kicked in and I couldn’t hear her cry at night. So, we started a rotation. I would sleep at night and get up for her morning feed at five or six. Then Husband would do the reverse. We barely saw each other, and I was so guilty. What sort of a mother doesn’t hear her child cry? Women were designed to hear a crying baby in the night so why wasn’t I? Then in January I was diagnosed with Post Natal Psychosis. Sounds scary, doesn’t it? At the time it wasn’t because I hadn’t a clue what was going on. In a nutshell, I woke up one morning and didn’t recognize my own child. My doctor would later describe it as my brain saying, “Nope we don’t like this reality, here’s a different one for a while.” As part of my treatment BB went to live with my parents for a few months. With the help of doctors, nurses, and medication I was soon on the road to recovery. I’m not going to lie; it took a while but eventually BB did come home, and I was terrified. Terrified it wouldn’t last. Terrified I would relapse. Terrified she was better off somewhere else. Husband was so happy she was home. He really struggled while she was on her little holiday. At the time I didn’t know this because I wasn’t really aware of what was going on around me. After I ‘recovered’ I still wasn’t aware. I got into a routine, and I stuck to it like glue! We would get up, get organised, Husband would go to work, and I would wait, watching the clock until I could go to my parents’ house with BB. I would stay there until Husband came home from work. I did this because I felt safe there; I had help there if anything went wrong. This went on for months. I was hardly ever at home; I was always in my parents’ house. Soon after I joined my first creative writing class and eventually went back to work. Both were huge scary steps for me. I still spent a lot of time at my parents but now I had something outside of home that was just for me. The class was amazing and now I had a creative outlet, something I had been looking for but hadn’t been brave enough to go for. Husband had seen and ad in the paper, sat me down in front of the laptop and said, “you’re applying for this!” I protested a lot, I wasn’t brave or good enough, but it fell on deaf ears. The job was the same, I wasn’t ready, I was too scared, but again, Husband was having none of it! So, within a year, I had a hobby I adored and a job I loved. Now I had a new routine. Get up, get organised, drop BB to parents and go to work. I was becoming independent again. Even though I was still spending a lot of time at my parents, I was also able to spend time at home with BB and the fear wasn’t as great. It was still there but it wasn’t controlling me anymore. BB was growing steadily and developing well as she learned to walk, run, and talk. But I still didn’t feel connected to her. She was mine and I knew that, but I couldn’t feel that rush of love that others had described. So, once again, I was back at “what’s wrong with me?” The doctors declared me healthy and normal and told me not to worry. In the meantime, I changed jobs and this one was more flexible with the added benefit of fabulous clothes. Now I had a great hobby, a fantastic job and I was finding my own style. I now worked weekends, so the rest of the week was spent with BB and writing. Once again, I settled into a new routine. Husband also worked weekends, so this suited us perfectly.  Then one day it happened. Husband and BB were driving me to work, and we were stuck in traffic. This little voice from the back of the car pipes up, “Mamam, I love you.” Simple as that. There was the rush of emotion and flood of tears. I mean floods. I cried buckets! I was on my way to work, and I cried all my make up off! Poor BB didn’t know what she did wrong, and Husband had to stop for extra tissues and coffee to try calm me down. It had taken a year and a half of post-natal psychosis, depression, and anxiety but here I was. I had finally achieved one of my life’s goals. I had finally become Mother.

The waves pull me under, Crashing from leaf to leaf, I listen And let them. The ocean brings me solace, I never thought I'd feel Listen, listen, Feel their embrace. Loud and fierce, This storm on the waves Drown me in silence, Quietly bringing me calm. I sit, angry and sad Slowly ebbing away, Surrounded and lonely, Me and my ocean of trees.

Empty cold betrayed Alone surrounded He did not save me He did not take it away Helpless pathetic exposed Together separated They come to stare Nothing better to do Numb overwhelmed raw Bursting drained It doesn't stop It's always there Disappointment disgust loss Relief dread I broke apart I gave life.

My favourite fantasy is about my best friend. Her name is Meave. She has blue hair. She sits on my right shoulder during the day and at night she sleeps in a match box on my bookcase. She says the books help her to sleep. I suppose if she can't sleep, she can always pull one out and read a chapter or two. I don't pay much attention to her at night, I'm too busy sleeping myself. But during the day we have a great time. No matter what I'm doing, she is always with me. When mammy makes me cry, she's there to wipe away my tears. When daddy hurts me, Meave is there to make me feel better. Meave is always there with a bit of advice if I need it or a comment here and there. It's great to have my best friend always with me, always guiding me. She gives great advice and I love everything she says. She always knows the right thing to say, better than I do. When the other kids pick on me, she's there to pick me up. When times are bad she has a comforting word. She makes me feel better, when I'm feeling down. She knows exactly what to say, when someone has a go at me. She has a wonderful way with words, quick with a witty response to a snide remark. Meave has never let me down through good times and bad. She is my safety net. She has never left me. Of course, Meave has made me sad once or twice. The thing is, Mammy says she doesn't exist. Daddy says she is just a figment of my imagination. But how can that be when I can see her everyday? My only friend with her shiny blue hair and little purple wings.

Peace. Peace at last Away from the noise and din. All’s quiet now Away from the noise and din The wheels have stopped turning The bells don’t ring All’s quiet now Away from the noise and din. Yesterday’s hardship has gone Live, let go, move on All’s quiet now Away from the noise and din. Give away sorrow Let it pass by All’s quiet now Away from the noise and din. Nature around me Peaceful and loud All’s quiet now Away from the noise and din. My head doesn’t spin The voices don’t talk All’s quiet now Away from the noise and din. Retreat in Nature Let it swallow you whole All’s quiet now Away from the noise and din. Flowers in bloom Birds in flight Music at every turn Everything happy and light. Peace. Peace at last Away from the noise and din. All’s quiet now Away from the noise and din.