Breast-pumping Blues

Whir clack
Whir clack
The pump churns out its rhythm

Stretch slack
Stretch slack
My breasts worked by the system

Perusing the dream
Keep mining the seam
Of milk the colour of cream

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Out with the Old, In with the New

Here we are again. Another New Year, another birthday.

I hope you are recovering from your celebrations, are feeling hopeful and excited about the year ahead. To those of you who find this season challenging, I wish you strength.

For me, this is always a day of reflection, I suppose a bit delayed; I should really look back on the last day of the last year, not the first day of the new one.

So much has changed, and I have so much to thank you for! Truly, I do. Thanks to you I have persevered and can now celebrate my blogging anniversary.

I had so many ideas of how this blog might be and what I would explore. I knew going in that it could be a cathartic process but I could not predict the extent of healing I have experienced.

I have been quiet over the past few months as a result of facing some of my toughest experiences. I achieved my goal of exploring traumatic events and the struggles that followed. In November, I gave birth to a healthy baby, having banished the shadows of the past. I wanted so much for my baby’s experience to be untainted by my own trauma and through blogging I have managed to gain closure and process the emotions enough to separate the present from the past.

I leave that trauma behind in 2018, having carried the pain with me for over two years. I finally feel free.

I am future-facing, forward-looking and excited as I embark on a New Year of experiences.

Showtime!

Maternity leave seems to have extended to blogging as well as employment. I feel that this is part of the nesting process, as priorities change and focus narrows as birth approaches.

I came up with the title for this post several months ago. As I was preparing for birth I was concentrating on the natural, instinctive cooperation between my body and baby. As the process of childbirth remains almost indescribable to those who have not yet experienced it first hand, first time mums will I suspect always feel that they don’t have all the facts as they approach this astounding phenomena.

As such, I tried to quell any anxieties I had by trying to focus on birth from the baby’s perspective; of arrival, of action and of his first breath.

For the past nine months he had been flexing in my womb, developing organs, practicing breathing (you can feel them do this by the way). He had been rehearsing.

Now, as labour commenced, this was showtime!