Thursday, 11 July 2013


Dear Janek,

one thing is for sure: this world is crazy and so is the time. It goes way too fast, and you’re three months old today, and we’re going to blink twice and you will be one year old and running around. Something tells me you will be running quite fast…
I realise that I want to stop every day: I want you to stay as you are every day, please, stop getting bigger and bigger. I love everything about you, your smile, your eyes so bright and full of wisdom, your chubby legs, your big feet with catchy fingers, your hands with nails I have big trouble to cut, your punk hair, and your smell. I would write about your bum, too, but I don’t want to embarrass you just yet, dude.
This was a crazy month, half brilliant and half very hard, as these months go by. You rolled on your back and looked straight into my eyes surprised, amazed, asking. I smiled and clapped and congratulated you and gave you one of those big wet kisses on your cheek that hopefully you won’t hate too much in a couple of years. You’re so clever and so strong.
Your father often says he feels like you’re reading him- siting in your pilot chair, looking straight into his face, your eyes following his every move, slowly, seriously. After a while you smile a little bit, and you look away.
You start to laugh more, too.  Sometimes you’re confusing it with crying, it’s a joy to watch.
You’re a joy, happiness in a small human shaped form.
If there is one thing I want to teach you and assure you of and give you to grow with (and there’s milliards of those things, little fella, milliards and then some) - it is to give you a realisation deep inside of  you, that no matter what you do and how you do it- you are enough. Enough as you are, every day. The truth is- majority of our adults’ problems comes from constantly thinking we’re not enough.  Not enough pretty, smart, rich, famous, sexy, and confident.  I need to learn to think of myself as enough, so you don’t think I teach you some bollocks. This is the hardest part.
But for now, and for each new day in your life, know this: you are enough as you are, right now. Everything else you decide to do or become is just a bonus.

Love you so much,

ps. You know, sometimes I look on you and I still don't believe that you are mine, that you have grown inside me, that I gave a birth to you and still, my body makes yours grow each day.  Today I sang you when you couldn't fall asleep and you immediately calmed down. I was susprised and amazed by this but, shouldn't I know better? Shouldn't I know already I'm enough and we're best pals for life? Sleep tight.

Thursday, 4 July 2013


Hello and welcome from my yoga mat in the middle of the kitchen floor. Why yes, I'm getting sweaty and lean and stretchy every day now( or at least I hope I'm getting anything more than sweaty). My goal is to reach 21 days in a row, as apparently this is a number of days you need to do something in order to make it your habit. Whoever said that never changed a single nappy in his life.

Anyways. Today's post is inspired by two things. First of them happened to me and the second I've read after the first one happened. 

I took Janek to IKEA today- I needed to buy him some bumper pads as he stuck his chunky leg between bars and tried to move it and couldn't and moved it in a wrong angle and SCREAMED like I've never heard a human screaming before and my muscles shaked for nest half an hour I was so scared and he obviously forgot it all next minute. I also wanted to buy some shadow box frame to finally make the birthing day keepsake. Everything went fine, kiddo woke up in the middle of kitchens and looked around in wonder- so many lights, so many lights, sooo many lights, and he smiled, because I think lights on ceilings is his idea of heaven for the time being. And I picked up what I needed and I payed for it and he started to get a little cranky and I thought I'd feed him before we go home. Nursing room in IKEA is definetely the best I've been in so far and even smelled amazingly, so I put my tit out into Janek's mouth happily and he ate, ate, ate and made friendship with ladybird lamps on the wall and he finished eating and he burped. It was getting kinda hot in there, so I figured we'll better go out. And I tried to put kiddo into his pram. Forfuckinget it. This boy is not the biggest fan of prams in general, but this time he screamed almost as hardly as when he got his leg between the bars. Fuck, fuck, I took him out, checked if everything is ok, because it was unnatural for him cryio-scream. Everything seemed fine except he was getting louder and LOUDER. And he screamed like this for next 60 minutes and I'm not even joking. I tried everything, I changed his (clean) nappy, I failed to put the next one on because he would wriggle so much. Forget about it, there was not a single thing that would calm him down and I talked to him sweetly and I sang and I hugged and I tried to burp him and I made an aeroplane and I tried to put him back to pram and I took his trousers off and I sang some more and I kept on trying for 60 horrible minutes and I heard people talking behind the doors and I was surprised they don't call anyone to check on me, because it sure sounded like a baby is being murdered inside. Seriously. So I had no idea what to do and I started to cry, and we cried like this, until he stopped. I lost a couple of pounds worth of sweat, and tears. I've put him into pram and he didn't like it but after this marathon of crying he got kinda tired, so he gave up. And we walked off, we walked out from IKEA and into the streets and into the park on the way home and he slept and I was dreaming of smoking a fag, eating a fag, having a shot of vodka, anything. I felt brainwashed and drunk at the same time. We arrived home, I left him in pram and ate a bit of yesterdays curry, drank a cup of tea and when he woke up we were friend again. Kinda. 

Now you have to understand, that Janek is a GREAT AND LOVELY baby, he doesn't do crying and shouting. He cries, obviously, but it's 5 minutes a top, nothing hard, nothing I cannot deal with. I bow low to all of the parents who's children cry constantly or very often. I don't know how you do it, I think I would just DIE.

So then I had a 7 minutes nap on the yoga mat I'm currently sat on and I woke up feeling hangovered with the worst, couple of days drinking behind, hangover, and I'm sober for almost a year now. It felt bad. Zs came back from work and he took Janek into his hands and Janek LOOKED ON ME LIKE HE HATES ME. And I'm not joking, he looked on me like I WOULD DO SOMETHING HORRIBLE TO HIM. Obviously, I cried into wok full of onion( good excuse there, hey).

So this is a first thing. It was kinda long, right? Second thing is this blog post. The most important thing I've read about being a parent since ever. I will tell every person that is about to become a parent to read it. Really.

It's all about the fact, that parenthood is fucking hard and not funny 51% of the time. And that you're being told by everyone to enjoy EVERY MINUTE. Which is a load of bullshit. 

Because I've never felt as low, guilty, stressed, worried, humiliated, angry, weak as I've felt today in the IKEA's nursing room. And there is no way in the world I could possibly enjoy it. And while people and books and magazines will tell me to ENJOY EVERY MINUTE, I will feel more guilty and more anxious and more crap with every next situation like this. And when your kid looks on you like a stranger or enemy- well- that's just sweet, isn't it?

So screw it all. Be able to say YOU FUCKIN HATE ALL THIS everytime you hate it. It will free you. It will make you feel better. I realised today that this is the reason for majority of my sadnesses in last three months- that at times it is bloody hard and I don't want to carry on- and I'm told to be happy and cheerful- all the time. And I'm pretty sure there is not a single parent in the world who could say he enjoys it 100%.

And, obviously, most importantly, amazingly, awesomely- every storm has its end. And sunshine comes out and small birds start to sing and stars start to shine and your baby and you are in love. Really, don't get me wrong- I LOVE, love, love my son so much, I would do everything for him to be happy and sun-shiny forever. But I'm not able to do it. And it's much better to have a good cry and swear a lot about it all and appreciate the sun after the storm much more, cherish it like a million dollar lottery ticket( well that's just sad, isn't it) than to pretend it's all good and never lose your temper and slowly slowly slowly kill yourself every damn day. Until you explode. One way or another. It's better for everyone.

Saturday, 22 June 2013

Grumpy does not cut it

After another evening of being grumpy and tired we lay in bed and Zsolt asked me: so what is missing in your life? And there was no answer, there was a silence. I said, after a while, something stupid like- power, strenght; Zsolt sighed quietly and told me yet again that I am stronger than I can imagine I am. I cried, but I thought- I know. This is true.
What is missing in my life?
I have amazing son, great partner, healthy family, good friends( not many, but those who are there are 'taller than giants'), I have a big talent( that I'm stupid enough not to use), I love in a great place, I have things to eat and drink and read and learn.
Okay, I'm so so tired, I feel like I'm in a prison( it's a kind of mental prison where my head seems to have a life sentence), I wish I could go for a holiday somewhere nice and hot or at least go home for a while.
But it's important to remember-all this is just a phase. I bet that in 20 years when I will be able to visit every damn beach in the world, I will be upset and I will think about time when my son's life physically was in my hands( and tits). Even in 10 years I will miss those days.
So from now on I will try my best to enjoy the place I am now. It's a great place( on a floor that needs a good hoover, between king sized bed with my man and usual sized cot with my supervisor). I sit here for a reason. I should be grateful for what I have, be more with it all instead of constantly looking back or forward or from above or from too close.
Be grateful. And give this flat a good hoover( it's great to have electricity!).

Tuesday, 18 June 2013


As some of you know, my partner was born and raised in Hungary. One of the best, the most legendary Hungarian bands is LGT. They were told that they could be better than the Beatles if only they sang in English. They never did.
So there I was, on a sofa, waiting for Janek to burp after he ate and Zs called me to check something on the laptop. And there is this song in a background and he posted the lyrics and he tried to translate them. Obviously none of us is an English translator and there are sentences and words and metaphors in Hungarian that you can't find in English, but there you go. 
It made me cry so much, so much. Zs took Janek away to another room because I was shaking from emotions. I love how he knows me and how he knows what gets me. 
Check it out, it's beautiful.

Arra születtem, hogy kisgyerek legyek,                 
s anyám mellett lassan játsszam az életet,
arra születtem, hogy felnőtt is legyek,
s megértsem a szóból azt, amit lehet,
s végül arra jöttem én a világra,
hogy elhiggyem azt, hogy nem vagyok hiába,
ah, ah, ah, ah,

Arra születtem, hogy megszeressenek,
s megszeressem én is azt, akit lehet,
arra születtem, hogy boldog is legyek
s továbbadjam egyszer az életemet,
s végül arra jöttem én a világra,
hogy belehaljak abba, hogy éltem a világban,
ah, ah, ah, ah,

I was born to be a child,
to slowly play the life next to my mother,
I was born to be an adult too,
to understand everything what I can from one word,
And finally I became to this world,
to believe I am here with reason,
ah, ah, ah, ah,

I was born to be loved,
and to love who I can,
I was born to be happy too,
and to give my life over once,
and finally I became to this world,
 to die because I lived in this world,
ah, ah, ah, ah,


Tuesday, 11 June 2013


Dear Janek,
you're two months old today. We're laying in bed, you just ate, we're listening to Radiohead; it's your first time and you seem to enjoy it.
You're growing like a mushroom everyday. You're getting smarter, cheekier, more aware of things and people. You're beautiful. Strong. You still wake up in horror but the next thing I know is how wide you smile.
You're so happy to see me that I have to pinch myself from time to time. There's absolute, love and trust in your huge diamond eyes; it's scary, it makes me teary, it makes my days.
It was a hard month for the whole family, we've had bad days, some bad words, some tears hidden and open. But what we do here is grow, we're growing in speed up mode and we’re learning, so we can become the best possible family.
You're the bestest member, obviously, with your teeth-less smile and all. And you don't need to know that some words doesn't exist, because you are them anyway.
I'm trying to get myself sorted, too. I'm only 24, and I think to myself day by day- what am I doing here? With you?
I owe you everything and I want to give you the best days and memories and books and words and pictures and bicycles. I want to guide you through horror days and I want you to know I'm here always.
It's exciting and overwhelming, too. I'm so tired. I'm so scared I don't give you enough of things, feelings, attention. It's scary because quite frankly nobody loved me like you love me now and you are 61 days old. You're just about grown out of the ground. I have to learn how to deal with it all.
Happy 1/6th of the year. I hope we will be bigger friends everyday. Love you to bits( even if sometimes I am not understanding it all, at all).

Saturday, 8 June 2013


I'm sitting on the floor and waiting for Janek to wake up for his first night feed. It’s so damn hot, isn't it? I can feel my body sweating and I just took a shower; I don't think it ever happened before in this country( since I'm here obviously). It reminds me of hot hot nights back at home. When you sit long after midnight on the balcony with your grandma and you just breath this warm and sweet( grandma had lots of flowers) air.

Today I exercised once again. The workout I do is by a very famous now Polish girl who slowly changes the way Polish women look and feel about themselves. Trust me, you hate her while you're on a mat, but as soon as you're done- you're in heaven. And then she says the crucial words: I am proud of you. You did amazing job today.

At this point I cry. Every single time. I just burst into tears.

It makes me think- how sad is this world? Where is this world going? If the only time you feel good about yourself is when somebody else tells you you did a great job. And if thousands of people follow the person who tells them every day: I'm proud of you, you're awesome( people started to compare this fitness instructor girl and all her fans to a sect) it gets all negative again.

I thought about it and about myself. And about myself and others. And about how much I can forgive others and how little I can forgive myself. It's just fucked up.

Of I look only on today I've done SO MUCH; for my son, for my house, for my man, for myself.

And I'm still beating myself up, I think it's not enough and I actually want people to say to me that I do everything great. And if its not great is good enough.

But the only person that should acknowledge this and say this is writing this damn post. Obviously it's nice to be appreciated but I remember we could cherish every thing my mum was doing every day and she was still unhappy. If you don't respect and believe in your job, who the fuck will?

Of course, it may all be so obvious it can become painful. But it's not on every day basis.

I would like to vow here to make Janek feel proud and awesome about things he does. And don't contradict this with a following sentence. (’Very nice drawing.
I wish your mother had an abortion.’)

You're awesome, I'm awesome. Today I feel proud.

Wednesday, 5 June 2013

at the end of which I eat a piece of chocolate

Last couple of weeks are hard. So hard. Very bad days change to strange days to better days and to very bad again. I'm not even sure how to write about it because I have problems vocalizing my feelings.
Since I became a mother all those things about me are just showing up every day- bang, pop, pow- things I didn't knew or didn't want to know about myself. 
I'm going from totally hating myself to feeling well about all of it in the matter of hours. Sometimes minutes.
It all looks so good and happy on the outside, inside of me there is a constant battle, I'm constantly telling myself I do things wrong or not good enough- and then, automatically, this is just what's happening. I start to make mistakes I could easily avoid.
And oh, god- everything is affected. My relationship, my friendships, my self-esteem more than ever and my kid. I feel awful but at the same time I need to know I have right to all this feelings. But at the same time I want to stop feeling them.
It's so hard it's even hard to say what ACTUALLY is happening. Because maybe it is all inside me?
I cannot wake up. I wake up and I cry because I'm so tired( no matter how long I sleep- and Janek is an extremaly good sleeper! He just wakes every 3ish hours to eat and falls back to sleep; ALWAYS). Takes me couple of nice minutes to get awake enough to realise that Janek is not hungry anymore( I try to catch more sleep and shovel my tit in his poor mouth)- he has gas and needs to be burped. It takes so much effort to actually come up and burp him- crazy. 
Day reveals itself, it's getting better until I feel I should be dressed already, I remind myself that the best days are days when we're out and about early. But no- I will drink a tea, feel crap about myself, spend another hour on my iPod instead of for example taking a shower or reading a book( Janek is napping at this point).
Somewhere then I panic- start to clean the house furiously, think what to cook for tea( by the way it took me 3 years in this country to realise what 'tea' means; haha! I was always like- what do you mean what I cooked for tea- biscuit?), get dressed, feed Janek, put the make up on, turn the washing machine, wash dishes, change Janek, write shopping list, feed Janek, put him into pram and we're out to the shops. 
This feels good, to be out- until Janek starts to cry- which he does rarely and I feel ASHAMED ( why the fuck do I feel ashamed that my child is uncomfortable!?) that I AM FAILING because my baby is crying BECAUSE I AM NOT GOOD ENOUGH. And I don't know what's wrong. 
But he doesn't cry much( trust me, this boy is an angel and I should be grateful forever, I would probably die with all those feelings if I had a cry baby) so we do the shopping, I spend much more money than I should because there is always a magazine or a nail polish or whatever that needs to go in as well ( WHY!?).
We get back, I feed J, I cook a bit, he hangs around on his chair, if he sleeps he sleeps if he is awake I feel guilty the same second I notice that I don't spend enough time with him.
Guilty guilty guilty. Fuck. My brain is fucked.
There are days when I just run around him and I'm not happy at all and I don't feel any joy from any of it.
There are days when every time he smiles at me I cry from happiness because he obviously loves me so much and is happy here and I make myself ask questions: why do you love me, baby? Why are you happy? I don't do anything for you. I definetely don't do enough. What do you do with 2 months old? What do you do with baby that's one year old? How will I know? ( See, now I know all those questions are so stupid, but once I feel them it's a different story.)
There are moments, short moments, when I feel so proud he is my son and I feel so good about myself, too- very short ones- in Starbucks when he talks to me and smiles and I look nice in pink dress and I feed him and kiss him and people are passing and they smiling to us; in a lift when he cries his heart out and the lift is full but I still make everyone laugh a good laugh and J stops to cry and then we're home.
Everyday I keep thinking that I'm not good enough and that I should sort myself out first before actually having a baby. Everyday.
It's all so chaotic, I'm sorry( to whom? I write it for myself, I put it out there because maybe someone will have some advice). I cry every day.
I googled too much of postnatal  depression and 'adult child of alcoholic' syndrome and all this and I should stop because in the same way I probably have a cancer already. I refuse to take any kind of drugs anyway. Because it's all inside me, see? I know it. Every day I see it and I'm scared it will go to my son- and I want the good things to transfer, not all this. Why do I need people's permission all the time? Why do I want people to feel sorry for me?Why do I care what they think? Why I AM SAYING SORRY EVERY DAY MINIMUM 265421 TIMES( sorry I'm passing here with my pram, sorry I'm on your way, sorry I wanted to get out of the lift first before you got inside, sorry my kid is crying, I'm sorry I look for money longer than 3 seconds, sorry I couldn't pronounce this word properly, sorry I'm here)? Why do I need their advice about my every step? Why I forgive them so much and I treat myself so harsh?
I kind of knew all of it about me before but it's since I became a mother it all goes out to the surface. Ok, it has something to do with hormones but I refuse to throw the blame on them because I really know they're not everything. It's easy, too easy to say: yah yabadi yabada it's my hormones, whatev.
There's so much work to do on myself, but where to start? ( Oh, there's chocolate.)

Sunday, 12 May 2013

And then

And then he calms down and I calm down, holding him close and giving him all my love and support and being. And then I put him in the pram and I fight for a while with a rain cover, I put trainers and we go. And then there is the same woman in a lift, same as yesterday and she says it's such a hard work, isn't it. And then I smile and nod and she asks how he sleeps at night and I say that pretty awesome, he just wakes up to eat and goes back to sleep. She says  that I'm lucky. And then I say I know, count your blessings, right? 
And then we go to the shop and I buy flowers for myself, I buy eggs, rhubarb, flour and I will bake a cake.
And then we go back home and I put headphones on and I hear "At last" by Etta and I cry( thanks for the rain, Mother Nature) because its such a perfect song for this moment and it's almost like from the film. And then it becomes t r u l y like from a film- there's guy in white suit on a monocycle and woman in red suit on those high wooden legs. And then I die inside- it's worth to get out to see miracles like this and I'm happy I have a child because when he grows a little bit up I won't have to be shy anymore to ask man on a monocycle to take a picture with us.
And then it all gets fucked up again. 
And then it's get better.

sunday bloody sunday

Sundays are our hard days. They're supposed to be full of relaxation and rest and collecting energy for week ahead but they're not. They're hard as fuck.
For some reasons the day J cries the most is Sunday. And it's not even midday yet. And for some reasons( being overtired after whole week?) those are the days I perform the worst act.
When he cries I can't seem to know what to do, nothing seem to help for longer then couple of minutes, and we go ins circle: I'm helpless so I start to cry and that automatically makes him cry even louder and stronger.
Only mother will know this incredible feeling you get when you cannot control your baby's cry and you feel like just dropping him on the bed/in a cot/Moses basket/wherever and running away but instead you bring him closer to you and you hold him with your calmest hand.
It's hard. They say we've got special hormone that makes us feel unease when baby cries. Well I guess I have triple portion of this one.
And I cannot complain because J is a gold child. So calm and chilled out most of the time. I cannot imagine what would I do if he had colic or anything like that. I dont know how would I cope. Hat off my head for all the mothers who do.

Friday, 10 May 2013

Dear Janek,

You will be one month old tomorrow. One month. When did that happen? You're asleep on my chest now. When I breath the air from my mouth moves your hair. Very fine, very blonde and very smooth hair. We were supposed to go for opening of your uncle's exhibition but you decided you want to eat  and eat and cry and eat some more. You've waited until I took off my shoes and my skirt and my tights and then you stopped crying. I guess you just wanted to stay in.
I made myself a cup of tea and I lay down next to you and we took a couple of pictures and you were posing and coping my expressions and you were the sweetest. Then you pooped and farted. I changed your nappy, your clothes and I washed your face( you complained).
And here you are. Sleeping and smelling of this instant happiness. One month old tomorrow.

I've wanted to write your birth story since it happened. It got deleted three times now and three times I cried because I've put all the details there, for you maybe and for me, to remember. I felt like the greatest person in the world, and maybe I was for a moment- when Zoe put you on my chest and your daddy cried out of the biggest and purest happiness. This is what I remember today, month later:
• how when it started I made myself think it's not the real thing yet and continued to make  tiramisu;
• when I called your father to come home quickly because I just didn't wanted to be alone;
• how I was taking a bath when he arrived; how we laughed; how I burned all the candles, how he kept on boiling more water in a kettle to pour in the tub;
• how out of the sudden I needed to get out and was bouncing on the ball and your father was cleaning the tub out of the wax; he needed his hands full, he needed a task;
• how we went to the hospital for the first time and they checked your heartbeat and my contractions and how they send us back home; the corridors were empty and I vomited; I remember the taxi back home;
• how I spent big part of the night in legs of bed, on the floor, leaning and going through it all;
• when I took another bath and was falling asleep there for thirty seconds at the time and I burned the rest of the candles; how multicoloured wax was covering the whole bathroom;
• how the only thing I ate back then was two dried apricots and how I kept on drinking water from big plastic jug with a red straw;
• how it got bright out of the sudden and how we spent that morning with your father- he was half asleep and I was sitting on the edge of the bed; how calm and quiet we were, how we hold hands for the last time alone, just the two of us; how the room was orange and how you could feel something above it all in the air, how profound and beautiful and painful and horrible it was; how many times your father told me I'm doing great, how important it was and I kept on breathing;
• how on a way back to hospital they told me to scream and I didn't want to scream because I knew I need strength not noise;
• how they checked us again and told us to go for a walk and come back;
• how very tired I was at that point already; I wanted to sit on a toilet forever but the toilet was dirty; how we sat in the middle of canteen and there were people everywhere and light everywhere and people were old and ill and I was in pain and I struggled and your father was there, always there to hold me;
• how we came back and it rained, we had to stop every couple of steps;
• how they checked us again and told us we can stay; how happy we were, how relieved, how weak was I but kept on smiling, how they told me I'm dehydrated and I need to eat and drink, how they moved us to room 7
• how I ate and drank and out of sudden I felt great, I had power and and we've met our midwife, her name was Zoe and how she was the most amazing person we could wish for, how great we understood each other straight away and how we laughed on the same jokes at the same time;
• how I took a shower and shaved my legs and put the conditioner on; I was in active labour, after 38 hours of contractions;
• how I kept on sitting; how I wanted to dance and put the make up on, how I really felt the greatest power;
• how out of the sudden I got fever and had to be transferred to the delivery floor, how I was upset about it but knew  I just have to get in with it, with whatever my birth brings to me, just accept it and move on;
• how Zoe told me nothing will change, how I trusted her, how she said that her women have things the way they want to have them, how I trusted her, how we smuggled a tub of fruit mentos inside
• how we got upstairs- and I was on the wheelchair and refused to think bad about it- and nothing changed like Zoe promised- there was number 7 on the door;
• how they took lots of blood from me and connected me to the monitors and I couldn't go to the toilet as easy and how I refused to feel bad about it, how for the first time in the history of being me I really was going with the flow;
• how your father was there and he was getting more tired but was  stillgiving me water and illegally he was feeding me with fruit mentos, how he found my lip balm, how he tried a bit of gas and air, how brave was he even if on the second plan, as a supporting act;
• how they kept giving me things and how I kept on declining others;
• how I still tried to joke, how many times Zoe told me she loves me and how I trusted her about it;
• how when things got very strong your father held my hand and I looked on Zoe, on her ear, on her purple guitar earring, how it kept me going;
• how suddenly they both got excited cause you were coming anytime and I was thinking that great at least someone has fun;
• how your heartbeat was so strong and happy and healthy all the time and how thankful I am because god knows what they would do to us if it wasn't;
• how I was pushing for for hour and a half and I asked your daddy to take a photo and I felt your head going out of my body and how surreal it all felt;
• how I had no power and I kept saying "I can't do this" and they've been saying "you're doing this" and how I thought "what can I do if I tell my self I can?"
• how I pushed without contractions because I was tired and scared and I wanted you to be here already;
• how you arrived; how surreal; how slippery; how heavy; how beautiful; how;  how smelling of a lake; how you knew me; how you didn't cry; how your father cried; how did that happen;
• how the rest was a blur: someone sewing my ladies bits, me laughing, you pooping on your daddy's hand, Zoe bringing us toast with butter and jam and tea and leaving( can you imagine being such an important part of somebody's life and then just walking away quietly?)
• how they wheeled me downstairs to the ward and how proud I was with you in my hands;
• how I spent first evening with you crying because "you will never be one day old again"
• how the first night with you was the happiest night of my life when I slept, holding you close, against the regulations but according to my heart.

Just like now.

So you're one month old. We survived. You are healthy and happy. I didn't hurt you. I didn't break your arm or your leg. You cried maybe 6 hours in total. I learned so much about you and I still do every day. I learned so much about myself and I need to grow myself for you every day. I need to take care of your father. We are family now. He works so hard for us. There's so much words, so many feelings, it's so hard and so beautiful and crazy.

You're one month old and you are greater than universe.

Sunday, 21 April 2013


Day 10 and I think we're having what they call a grow spurt here. Since early morning this little dude eats and sleeps and cries when eats. It really is heartbreaking. But you have to be strong. You have to be. I understand now why some women resign from breastfeeding. It's do emotionally wrenching on a days like this. But the thing is- I educated myself about the subject well enough to know why we're having hard time now and I can't give up now. I can't. So I breath through every time he cries and I know it will pass and its closer to the end. Quite similar with contractions during labor.
So I keep him close in between so he can feel safe.

Friday, 19 April 2013


I'm very tired but I cannot sleep. I keep finding myself things to do and the top on the list is looking at my son. At the moment he is on my left in the moses basket his father bought him yesterday at night. 
He wakes up now, slowly and I can swear he is already bigger or the basket got smaller in the last hour.
I need to remind myself to keep writing. Don't just sit and think, keep writing. I will regret if I won't. That's the only thing I can do. That's what will keep me sane.
I realised how fast I wanted to become everything I need to be- a good mother, a good house wife and partner. I didn't realise that I would just gave a birth couple of days ago, after 48h long labour, after 9+months of growing this amazing human inside me. There is no way I could handle pressure, so I broke down on Tuesday, when my partner was away and I called him and I sweared at him, and I felt so lonely and tired and overwhelmed. I looked on my son, the calmest person I've seen, looking on me with his 'what's a big deal, mom' look already. I cried. I held him so close, so tight and I cried on his freshly washed onsie. 
My partner came back home straight away and I think at that point I couldn't even vocalize my feelings. Midwife visit was due that day so I had to go and wash my face, eat a cake, drink a tea, bring myself back together.
Since then I cry every day. I'm not depressed, but all this mix of emotions from every day are hitting hardly when day is getting ready to end. It's getting quiet and unconciounsly I'm getting more relaxed so all this is pouring out. 
And my body, wow, what a war zone. I went downstairs with rubbish and to check post couple of days ago and I just put my nose out for couple of steps. And I felt like all my bones are in wrong place and my lungs are underwater. I came back upstairs and cried again. Now I undersand what they mean when they talk about baby steps.

But above all there is love I've never felt before. Never. And nothing can ever beat it. And it's stronger and stronger each day, each morning, with every burp and every breath of milky air coming from his mouth.

Sea of love. Janek, 8 days old.

Ps. I started writing my birth story as I don't want to forget any detail. It takes ages. It's a long and important story, so maybe it shouldn't take any less time than it will.

Monday, 15 April 2013

High hopes.

I am a mother now. There's this pretty, such a pretty little thing sleeping on the bouncer next to me. He is so calm and relaxed and has no idea how he changed universe around him already.
I just now realised I need to keep writing about this before it will all become just a fight with next nappy, remembering the boob I fed from last time.
I need to remember the first night I spent with him on the ward. This milk high face. Everything.
The birth, too- long, 48 hours worth labor. The most amazing partner. The most wonderful midwife. I fell in love with this woman- every time I think of her now I cry. The guitar earing in her right ear and her calm face. All the details.
He was born on Thursday morning and I already have some skills I thought I will never have. And I invent new things like putting wet wipes in my bra so they get really warm before use. Unconsciously making both tea ( two tea bags...) and coffee in the morning- to drink one first and have second ready to microwave anytime. I feel calm and good and I feel I know what I'm doing( most of the time). I feel strong. Wow, I was so afraid. And I really feel like I was made for all this.
(Note to self: make time every day to write about him and your feelings. So important for when he will be bigger and things will get harder to remember all this. Also- carry him more! Even more.)

Welcome to the world, Jan. Such a perfect life- you.