Thursday, 2 June 2016


In two days Freya turns six months old. Six months. Six months of having her in our lives. Six months of being a mother. Six short months that, actually, have occasionally have felt like six very long months. 
My teeny tiny newborn who was solely dependent on me for comfort is now a huge (in my eyes, anyway), almost mobile six month old who is fiercely independent. I used to be Freya's first choice for absolutely everything. Sleep, cuddles, comfort, food, entertainment. You name it, I was Freya's number one. Now I tend to mainly be a safe haven when things are too overwhelming for her or when she's too tired to self settle, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Of course I'm pleased that she is comfortable with other people and I love getting the odd ten minutes to myself when she's with someone else, but there's something so special about being the only person who can successfully soothe your upset babe. 
I miss her newborn days so much. I wish I had spent more time breathing in that new baby smell, and I wish I'd spent more time staring at her little swollen face, taking every inch of her in. I almost feel as though I can barely remember her first few weeks. I remember thinking to myself that this is so much easier than I thought it would be and that if it only gets easier from here on out then I'd be absolutely fine and dandy (oh how naive I was, parenthood is much harder now she wants to be on the move constantly!) but that's it really. I don't have many memories of those sleepy night feeds, or the times when she only opened her eyes for ten minutes at a time. I can't remember the endless streams of laundry and what felt like constant sterilising of bottles. Instead I feel like she's been the way she is now forever. She's learning new things everyday and is changing right before my eyes and I can't help but feel like she wasn't a newborn for very long. It seems like she was always trying to sit up and lift her head, and it feels like she's been trying to crawl for months when in reality, it's just been a few weeks. 
I've written this post in three separate chunks today, all of which have been when Freya is sleeping in my arms. I keep trying to get her to nap in her own room during the day, and she'll happily do so, but I'm not ready to stop feeling the weight of her body on mine while she sleeps. I don't want to stop feeling her chest rising and falling as she takes a breath and I don't want to stop being able to love her all over without her making a fuss. I always try to make an extra effort to cuddle and kiss her while she's asleep. I know how lucky I am to be able to hold her while she sleeps and I know so many mothers who have angel babies or have suffered the loss of a miscarriage would love to have the same opportunity I do so I try not to let it go to waste. 
It's 16.45 and Freya is on her third nap of the day and I can't stop looking at her. Her little toes and weirdly long feet. Her wispy hair and tiny button nose. I am so in love with this little girl it's unreal. I never ever knew I could love someone this much, it's a whole new sort of love that I didn't even know existed. It takes over your whole being and your entire world shifts. It's consumed me for the last six months and shows no signs of slowing down, despite me starting to find things harder than before.
Speaking of finding things harder, this whole motherhood/stay-at-home mum thing is a lot more difficult since Freya started trying to move around. Not so long ago she used to be more than content just sitting on someone's knee, taking everything in. But now she's rocking herself backwards and forwards, reaching out to grab things, kicking her legs non stop and a whole host of other really, really cute (but slightly inconvenient) movements. She always needs something to entertain herself with, be it a toy or a person, and I'm not ashamed to admit that CBeebies rescues me for the occasional thirty minutes and let's me regain my sanity before I'm having to lay on the floor and sing nursery rhymes again. A lot of the time I struggle to think of things for us to do during the day together and the mum guilt kicks in big time when we spend the whole day indoors singing and 'playing' (can you really play with an almost six month old?) but that's life I suppose, isn't it? I don't think I'm entirely sure, to be honest.
The only thing I do know, that I am absolutely 100% sure of and have no mum guilt about whatsoever, is how much I am loving being Freya's mum. I always knew I wanted to be a mum, which I've written about here, and I really do feel like I'm getting the chance to live out my dream. Yes, she drives me round the bend a lot of the time and more often than not I'm pulling my hair out by 6pm waiting for Lewis to get home, but all of that is outweighed by the most amazing moments we share. The grin she gives me first thing in the morning when she sees me for the first time, or when she decides she wants a cuddle and rests her head on my shoulder while watching the world go by. I love the way she grabs at my chest while I'm feeding her and I love the way she holds her arms out when she wants to come back to me. I love the way she looks at me from across the room when she's in her bouncer and wants to check I'm still there, and I love the way she gives kisses with her mouth wide open and gums at my cheek for a good few minutes. 
I love it all, if I'm really honest. There isn't a single part of motherhood I'm not enjoying. Admittedly, I do wish I could get a bit more sleep and I so miss having time for a two hour LUSH bath every night but apart from that, I'm in bliss. I feel so, so blessed that I've been lucky enough to have a beautiful daughter and I hope I'm doing the best for her. I hope I'm making all the right decisions for her and I hope that even if I'm not, or one day I make a huge mistake, that she'll always understand that I was just trying my very best to do the right thing by her. 

Thanks for reading, 

Grace x