Like the most things in life, any invention or great discovery was sparked by an idea. My blog become just that, a thought the night our second baby was born.
You might think that this is a weird moment to decide to start blogging, but allow me to explain.
I have always been a creative. Not artsy fartsy creative, I never felt like I belonged with the creative’s at varsity. But I need something as a release in order to escape from the everyday.
The Easter 2015 long weekend started off with me and my bump off to the hospital for our weekly check-up. The plan was to go to church afterwards, but like most doctor’s appointments, the gynae was a bit behind schedule due to an emergency C-section.
So the Church plan fell through and we decided to have our fish lunch and I started unpacking boxes (yes, we moved into our new place two days prior). Unpacking boxes ended up me starting to nest and I could not sit still. But, do not for one moment think anything was ready for the arrival of our newest addition. No, her crib was still in a box, no clothes unpacked into the chest of drawers. NOTHING. On late Sunday afternoon we finally went to church. Well, my water broke after church. Good timing right? Not so much, but everything happens for a reason.
I was admitted to hospital on 5 April 2015, already dilated. I spent half the night alone in hospital, as much as I would have wanted my husband there, he had to go back home as our oldest was crying for him.
After spending another long lonely day in hospital filled with check-ups and walking up and down endless amounts of stairs. Nothing much exciting happened.
The gynae decided to give me magic tablets to quicken my labour and around 19:00 the nurses moved me to the delivery room. After one hour and fourty minutes of full on labour, our newest addition entered the world at 20:40. Naturally. No medication.
And this is where the idea was sparked. My body had just endured a lot. As I got out of the shower, I caught a glimpse of my “new” body.
It was far from the body I had as a 21 year old. It wasn’t firm anymore; in fact my tummy resembled cookie dough. Mushy and soft from stretching for 9 months. My breasts weren’t perky anymore. They had grown to the size of a small melon preparing to nourish my baby.
In that raw emotional state I thought to myself: “Your body might not look like that 21 year old anymore. But in your imperfections you are actually still perfect.”
My body had changed. My life had changed for a second time. I was a mother again.
And that’s when it really sank in.
Nothing will ever be the same again, and this journey is just going to become more interesting.
Image found here.