Mummy's Boy! My fault?

Tiny Ched is my youngest.

My boy.

My baby.

My last.

Maybe it's my fault he's the way he is?

Maybe because I know I'm not having any more babies I've somehow made him more clingy.

He's a mummy's boy through and through.

"Want mummy to dress me!"

"Want Mummy to come!"

"Want Mummy to sit there!"

"Want mummy!"

"WANT MUMMY!"

"WANT MUMMY!"

It's both lovely and exhausting in equal measures.

Maybe it's a boy thing?

Maybe they are more dependent on their mothers?

MC was never like this.

Sure, she used to want me a lot but she was never this bad. She certainly never used to have to be physically peeled off me at the doorstep of play school.

Yes, TC has started going to play school. The same one that MC attended a few years back. The same women run it and I know how great it is there. The gender split is somewhat skewed there though.

"I think there was a 'boy boom' around here two years ago" they said to me as they signed him up before half term. "We have 18 children and only 4 of them are girls".

I think this could be where some of the problem lies. I'm not sure. TC is used to more female biased company. He spends a considerable amount of time with me and with MC. Also, he's certainly never been thrust into a situation where he's surrounded by 13 other boys - a couple of them boisterous at that.

Yesterday was only his 4th time at play school and I realise it's very early days but it was a particularly heart wrenching morning at the drop off. He started before we've even got out of the house...

"Don't want to go play school!"

Refusal to put his shoes and coat on.

"Want mummy come!"

Refusal to get in the car.

"Want mummy come to play school!"

Outside the gate he's sobbing. Not screaming or kicking. Just loud heart wrenching sobs and tugging at me to walk him away from the door.

The door opens.

The delivery of my boy is quick.

Like ripping a plaster off.

"It's the best way" they tell me.

As he's peeled from my arms he turns to me. Snot and tears fill his tiny face and he shouts "MUMMY!" with a look of terror one last time before they take him inside and I walk away.

I keep walking to the car.

I don't look back.

Snot and tears begin to fill my face.

I feel like the worst mother in the world.

I remember MC had a few wobbly moments. Half an hour later I would get a text message from play school to say she was fine. Sometimes they'd even send me a photo of her playing happily.

Not this time though.

They never text me about TC.

Because they know, and I know, he's not fine.

Through each session he doesn't want to join in. He doesn't want to play. He doesn't want to listen to stories. He doesn't want to have a drink or snack. He just stands there completely out of his depth silently sobbing occasionally.

Maybe it's my fault?

Maybe it is something I've done as a stay-at-home mum?

Maybe it's just a phase?

Maybe he'll grow out of it?

I really don't know.

What I do know though, is that having a mummy's boy is messing with my heart. On the one hand I want him to be independent but on the other I love the fact he wants me and I never want to let him go.

My boy.

My baby.

My last.

Failing My Daughter

Mini Cheddar started full-time school in Reception in September.

She's excelled.

We always knew she was bright but, at just 4 years of age, she's already on stage 7 of the Oxford Reading Tree. Her reading, writing and spelling continues to amaze her teacher and she's polite and well-mannered at school. She was even given the Head Teachers award last term and now her name is clearly written in the 'Golden Book' for eternity.

We were all so proud.

So why do we have tears almost every morning?

Cries of "I don't want to go to school!" are a constant sound. It's exhausting me.

She says she's tired or her tummy hurts. This has been going on for weeks and is getting worse. I've had her to the doctors and she even had a day off school last week because of it.

This mornings meltdown was a particularly bad one. There weren't just tears. There was kicking, screaming and barricading the door.

It was immense.

The thing is, once she's in school she's fine. She loves it in fact.

Over the past few weeks I've been trying, unsuccessfully, to get to the bottom of it.

There were talks of two Year 2 boys, who I know had been a little bit pushy with her once previously, being the cause. I spoke to her teacher who said she'd look into it.

As someone who was bullied in Primary school by two older boys myself, my heart ached for my little girl at the thought of what she may be going through.

Apparently, when MC was taken to see their teacher, she thought it was all a big joke and started being silly.

I know that I would never have thought it was a joke when I was being bullied. I actually didn't tell anyone about it for months. Like MC, my mum took me to the doctors as she thought I was ill.

I wasn't.

I just wanted to play with my friends at break time and not be pinned up against the wall and made to play kiss chase or I'd "get a smack!"

My parents argued about my behaviour as they didn't know what was wrong. Eventually it all came out after my poor mum, at her wits end, rang the Head Master when I locked myself in the bathroom one morning and refused to go to school.

Mum still recalls that day and it's etched in my memory too. I never forget hearing Mr. Darlington's voice outside my bathroom door. "Now Heather, are you going to walk with me or am I going to have to carry you?".

I obviously walked.

I remember feeling so small sat in his green Jaguar as we drove to the school to sort the whole mess out.

No. It isn't bullying that is bothering MC. I know this because she eventually admitted to me that it had only happened once.

It isn't illness. It isn't lack of friends. It isn't a lot of things that I've been tearing my hair out over lately.

No, I think the problem may be me.

I think I've failed my daughter.

For the past year I've neglected her feelings. Because she's so bright Matt and I forget she's only 4 most of the time. I see her as a much older girl, capable and content to do her own thing whilst I apply more of my attention to her, now toddler, little brother.

Tiny Ched is my last child. Matt and I said we would only have two children. I feel a little sad that my baby boy is growing up so quickly. There will be no more newborn snuggles in our house. No more newborn smells. No more excitement of those last few days of pregnancy or first few days of new motherhood. I do however know that what awaits us is much fun and laughter watching our two children grow up together. I'm eternally grateful to have two happy, healthy and beautiful children. They have an incredible bond already and dearly love each other.

However, since the passing of Matilda Mae last February I've been a lot more attached to TC. He has also been a lot more attached to me - in fact his separation anxiety hit a peak towards the later months of last year. This, added to the fact that he's our last, has maybe had an impact on MC's behaviour.

I deeply suspect she's attention-seeking in a bid to attract more love and attention from me and I feel guilty as hell for not giving her the attention that she maybe deserves.

Don't get me wrong, I give her attention. Of course I do. She's my first born, my daughter, my gorgeously lovely little girl and I love her and her brother equally. We share hugs and kisses, we play together, we craft and bake things together and Matt and I even have a few days that we go out just the three of us so we can share extra special time with her.

I just can't help but think I could be giving her more. We moved house a few weeks before the Summer break last year. This meant that a chunk of my attention was focused on getting the house straight over the school holidays. Then after this, MC was straight into being at school all day.

At Christmas we spent a lot of time just the four of us and there was a lot of play time. Then January and she's thrust back into school.

Last Wednesday she said she was poorly when she woke up. She did look tired and, after giving her the benefit of the doubt, I rang the school to say she wouldn't be in.

A couple of hours later she came downstairs after going back to sleep.

"I feel better now" she said smiling.

"Well let's get you into school as it's only 9.15am".

She got upset.

"I want to stay home and play with you and my brother".

I first suspected attention-seeking after this comment and it's been on my mind a lot. There have also been a number of tall tales that I know aren't at all true. I know children make up stories but some where a little too wild for my liking, like she was really trying to spark a reaction from me.

Anyway, the meltdown this morning has brought it all to a head. Eventually, after convincing her to go to school today (an agreement only reached by me saying I'd go into class with her), I spoke to her teacher. Like an emotionally exhausted wreck of a mother I got upset. Standing there with my bottom lip wobbling and tears stinging my eyes I felt like even more of a failure.

We agreed to sit down with MC after school today.

The meeting went well. I first sat down alone with her teacher whilst MC played outside the classroom. Her teacher told me that they'd had a chat again during the day. MC had mentioned a couple of things about home which I knew to be untrue so I told this to the teacher. Her teacher said it sounded like she was attention-seeking. I then told her my suspicions and we brought MC back into the room.

We didn't get much more out of MC but she did suddenly mention her bother. She also said "I wish I could stay at home with mummy and TC as I miss them".

I'm now convinced that this, along with how much attention I've shown TC over the last year, has all contributed to her behaviour.

It's hard being a parent.

There's no manual for the first-born and there sure as hell isn't a manual for the second.

You can read countless books, webpages and take advice from well-meaning people but, at the end of the day, most of the time you just have to wing it and hope you're doing your best.

I know I'm not a bad mother (even though I've felt completely inept all day) but I really do think I've been failing my daughter.

Now I'm busy making plans and my mind is whirring on how to make this right again.

Next week it's half term and I have to put things right. Tonight I've already started to ignore any of her bad behaviour (not that there's been any, really) and praise her when she's least expecting it. It resulted in her asking me to bath her tonight (it's usually daddy's job) and then her wanting me to stay with her and stroke her hair whilst we read her story.

I know she wants more of my attention.

I can feel it.

Next week I want to plan a week of fun and attention just for her. I want to try and reset the balance. I want to shut off my iPhone and I want to give her my undivided attention. I know that's not going to be easy with TC around but I know I have to do something. My daughter has suffered because of me.

Me.

As a mother it's one of the worst feelings you can feel. Feeling like you've been failing them.

I know now what I must do.

Here's to next week and undoing the failings.

Here's to being a better mother.

Here's to, I hope, a happier daughter.

That's the most important thing of all.

Letters For #MatildaMae - Dear Baby Tilda

Dear Baby Tilda,

It seems strange that I'm writing this letter to you.

To 'Baby' Tilda.

You're only a month younger than TC. But he's not a baby anymore. How can this be? It makes me so sad and angry at the world. Life is so unfair sometimes.

I still struggle to believe you're gone.

I never met you, I dearly wish I had. I wish that with all my heart. I did meet your mummy briefly when you were just a tiny little secret growing inside her. She was quiet that night...wrapped in an excited and anxious bubble of early pregnancy. I wish now that I had gotten her to talk more that evening.

I'll never forget reading those words your mummy posted the day after you left the world. My heart flew up into my mouth. I couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it.

I felt sick.

My world stopped.

And then I sobbed.

Sobbed for a beautiful baby I'd never met.

Sobbed for a beautiful lady destroyed.

Sobbed for a beautiful family torn apart.

I have thought about you and your mummy every single day for the past year. Even on my happiest of days there is still something that pulls my mind back to you. I see you everywhere. In every star, every rain drop, every rainbow and more.

Sometimes I catch TC doing something for the first time and my heart aches all over again. Aches for the empty arms of your mummy. She is an amazing lady. I know you know that. I just wish she believed it.

I still can't believe that exactly 12 months have passed. A whole year since you were snatched from your loving parents by something so devastatingly cruel. No-one knows the real extent of what they face each day without you. I can't begin to imagine the gut-wernching pain they feel without you in their lives.

But you are everywhere, Tilda.

I really believe that.

Not just in the stars, rain drops and rainbows.

Your little life has had such a huge impact on so many people. Your legacy is something truly amazing. It really is quite wonderful.

Personally, I've been on a journey these last 12 months.

When something awful happens in the world, we stop for a moment. We think about how awful it is. We think about how thankful we are, how we aren't going to take things for granted and then we move on, eventually forgetting and slipping back into bad habits.

This time it's different.

You've had such an impact on myself and so many people, Tilda. Your little life has made some big changes to lots of lives.

Mine for one…

• I am more tolerant of my children's behaviour. If one of them won't go to sleep at the time, I don't stress. I relish the extra cuddles.

• If one of them is ill I stop what I'm doing completely. Even when I'm busy and they don't really need me, I just sit and spend quiet time with them. Again, I relish the cuddles.

• I always checked on my children before I went to bed but now I spend a few moments sat on the bed or sat by the cot. I stroke hair. I wish cheeks. I feel love.

• I don't stress about the small stuff. I'm more relaxed than I ever used to be. 

• I've given up my freelance work so I can spend more time with my children. It's where I want to be. They are growing up so fast and I want to be a part of that.

• I've found out about The Lullaby Trust and the amazing work they do. I cut back on cards and gifts this Christmas and donated money instead. Having met Francine recently, it feels great to support such a wonderful charity to help families like yours.

• I am learning to also look after myself too. A happy mummy makes for happy children and that's what's important

There are a couple of other things that have happened. 

I've made two very beautiful and dearly loved friends because of you. 

Your mummy and Susanne. 

They mean so much to me. Susanne and I travelled to your funeral together and we read aloud. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do but I did it for you and for your mummy. 

I've told your mummy that I will always be here for her and I promise you that, Tilda. I'll always be here for Susanne too - you know how much she's helped your Mummy. She's helped me too.

As much as I love them, I would give up their friendship in a heartbeat to have you back where you belong. In your mummy's arms.

Life is so cruel but something special has happened. It's all because of you and your wonderful mummy.

Baby died,

People cried.

Candles lighted, 

Friends united. 

Money made,

Awareness raised. 

Legacy grew,

Look what love can do.

Rest in peace baby girl.

Love Heather xx

A Darkened Room

I sit here in a darkened room.

My back against the cot, I sit here for what seems like an eternity. I don't feel the pain of the cot bars digging into my back though.

I just feel you.

I feel your warmth. I feel your heartbeat. I feel your body one with mine. Just like we used to be when you were inside me.

I sit here in a darkened room holding your tiny head in my hands. Not ever wanting to let you go.

I sit here after calming you down. Cold and teething are not your friend tonight. You love your sleep and it pains me to see you so upset.

It's not like you. You're usually so happy.

You've been so difficult today but I don't mind. I don't mind one bit. For when I feel my patience wearing thin I imagine what life would be like without you.

Without you. I shudder at the very thought.

I have lots to do tonight but it can wait. Me time seems so pointless.

You are me.

I just want to hold you close forever. And ever.

I want to sit in this darkened room as long as I can. I sit here and the tears start to fall. They start to fall because I know that outside of this room there are other mummies and daddies who sit in the dark.

They sit there for different reasons.

They sit there without their baby.

Their baby is gone.

That baby could be tiny. That baby could be fully grown and left home. No parent should have to bury their child - whatever age.

I'll sit in this darkened room for as long as I want. I'll sit and I'll think and I'll be thankful. Thankful that even though this evening has been hard...

...you are here with me.

Being 'Me' For The Weekend

Unless you've had your head in the sand over the past month, you will know of the tragic passing of the beautiful 9 month old daughter of Jennie, Matilda Mae.

This tragedy has completely rocked the blogging community. Even people who have never met Jennie have been so moved by her story and are in pieces that something so unimaginable has devastated her life.

Tiny Ched is just a month older than Matilda. I think this is maybe why I, like others with children around the same age, have really felt it. I now openly admit that, even now, I can sob at a moments notice. The this tragedy has affected me like nothing before. 

TC has his 1st birthday 28th March and it's breaking my heart knowing that Jennie will never get to celebrate any of Matilda's birthdays. I really need to make his birthday extra special but I've been struggling somewhat.

But this weekend has helped me a little.

Sometime last year a close friend of mine asked me and some other of her friends to go on a weekend away to Edinburgh for her 40th birthday. Obviously I jumped at the chance. My favourite U.K. city and a bunch of lovely ladies - there was no doubt I was going to be there.

However, I've found it really hard being away from the kids lately and the thought of leaving them and Matt for 2 nights and 3 whole days filled me with dread. I had never left TC for more than 4 hours before and I'd only ever left MC overnight. I hated the thought that something could happen and me not be there. Matt's Grandmother had also passed away a week and a half earlier and I knew Matt and his family were feeling it.

"I don't think I want to go" was what I was saying inside but deep down I knew that it would do me good and I wanted to be there with my friends. I knew we'd have fun despite my feelings.

So I went.

To be honest, the day before I started to feel more comfortable with my decision to go and the excitement started to kick in. 3 of the girls (there were 9 of us in total) I class as some of my closest friends and I knew we'd have fun.

Friends and fun - the perfect pick me up

And do you know what? 

Despite hardly getting any sleep the 2 nights I was away, I totally loved the weekend! 

I feel a bit drained from it (we had Matt's Grandma's funeral the day after I got back) but I'm happy. I don't think I've laughed that hard in a while - you know where you laugh so much that your face and stomach actually ache? I was able to relax, I was able to forget about things for a while and be 'me' rather than just a wife and mother.

It was just what I needed.

I've started to plan the kids birthday's (MC also has hers 11th March) over the last couple of days and I'm looking forward to trying to make them as special as possible. The tragic events over the past few months have made me realise more than ever to grab opportunities with both hands, to not get down about things and live for the moment. You really never know what life can throw at you until it's too late.

It hasn't stopped me thinking about everything that's happened but it's made me refocus.

It's also made me realise I need to make time for me. As well as our family holiday in May, I'm looking forward to my night away in a posh hotel for BritMums. Roll on June when I can be 'me' for another night!

If you wish, you can donate to BLISS in the memory of Matilda Mae here

To Continue To Breastfeed Or Not To Continue To Breastfeed...

...that is the question I've had to wrestle with over the past week or so.

It's not been an easy decision to make.

Not in the slightest.

Those of you who read my post last week will know I got the dreaded mastitis. To say I was ill was a bit of an understatement - I felt horrendous. The antibiotics and the anti-imflammotories, although perfectly safe in breastfeeding, caused Tiny Ched to be seriously sickly. He couldn't hold any of my milk down so I was advised by the doctor to take a break from breastfeeding whilst on the tablets for a week.

I was heartbroken.

I'd breastfed TC for 7 months. In fact, it was the day before he turned 7 months that he started throwing up violently.

28th March 2012
A newly born TC
I can't tell you how much I love this little man
and I will always do the best for him

I think as soon as I realised I'd have to take a break that it would ultimately be the end.

Anyone who's breastfed and stopped, be it through choice or through force, it's quite an emotional roller coaster. I remember being extremely teary when I stopped breastfeeding Mini Cheddar 3 years ago - even though it was my choice to stop. My hormones were all over the place.

This hasn't been my choice though.

I know the mastitis wasn't my fault but I'm still beating myself up about it. A teething TC caused a cut on my nipple and that's how the bacteria got in. Couldn't be helped. It got hold of me in the night so the real damage was done by the time the excruciating pain woke me at 5.30am.

Anyway, before I ramble on and on, I've decided not to continue to breastfeed after this break.

There, I said it.

I've absolutely loved breastfeeding TC - my breastfeeding experience (mastitis aside) has been wonderful and so it's been a really hard decision to stop. I'm okay when my mind is taken off of it but when I'm alone, tired or just having cuddles with TC my heart aches (as well as my boobs!).

I could try and re-establish breastfeeding but I've chosen not to for the following reasons:

* I don't think I want to go through the hormonal effect of stopping again
* I'm scared to crap that I'm going to get mastitis again (it's nasty!)
* TC is teething sooo badly again. I see him tearing up the bottle teats and I'm so thankful it's not my nipple
* After TC flatly refusing the bottle for 7 months he's taken to it brilliantly
* I'm scared of being rejected
* I've done 7 months. I call that quite good going!
* I can drink copious amounts wine, eat spicy curry and baked beans*

I could become a 'pumping mummy' but I don't want to go down that road. Some completely pro-breastfeeding people (I'm talking about the extreme breast feeders) may think I'm being slightly selfish but I don't see it like this.

I'm not against formula milk in the slightest. What works best for mum and baby is what matters - there is no use trying to breastfeed or re-establish breastfeeding if it's going to make one of you (or both) unhappy.

Many women try and fail to breastfeed - good for them for trying. Many women choose not to even try for various reasons - this is their decision and if it works for them then good for them too.

Although I'm upset about stopping, I'm happy in my choice not to continue if that makes sense? Yes, I would liked to have carried on but I think I can forgive myself and pat myself on the back and the same time too...although I'm not sure that's physically possible?

Thanks to all those who offered their support on here, Email. Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, G+ - you lovely people rock!

Right, where's that bottle of wine?





* I'm obviously joking with this one! "hic"

Exactly A Year Ago...

Exactly a year ago I had a bump.

Exactly a year ago I was 4 months pregnant.


Exactly a year ago I had a 2.5 year old full of life and questions.

Exactly a year ago I was a Mummy to one with another on the way.


Exactly a year ago I was without Matt who was away on business.

Exactly a year ago I was missing him and hormonal.


Exactly a year ago I awoke like it was just another day.

Exactly a year ago I realised the day would be with me forever.


Exactly a year ago I went through so many tissues.

Exactly a year ago I couldn't stop crying for a couple of weeks.


Exactly a year ago I walked into the veterinary surgery with my dog.

Exactly a year ago I walked out of the veterinary surgery without my dog.


Exactly a year ago I had to make one of the toughest decisions of my life.

Exactly a year ago I had to have my dog put to sleep.


Exactly a year ago I missed Betty like crazy.

A year on. I still miss her.

Betty Dogface enjoying Bamburgh Beach

NOTE: I just wanted to mark the year anniversary of us losing Betty on my blog as she was a big part of my life. It's not something I will do every year but it was such a tough time being pregnant. Thanks again to all those who supported me last year.

Mastitis - You Bitch!

Despite exclusively breastfeeding Mini Cheddar, 3 years ago, I never suffered with mastitis.

I now count myself very lucky.

Tiny Ched turned 7 months yesterday and on Friday the most incredible pain in my right breast woke me at 5.30am. I couldn't touch it. The pain started in my armpit and went all the way down to my nipple (ooh there's a word I've never used on my blog before!).

I also felt dreadful. I was aching and shivery.

Bollocks.

Even though I'd never had mastitis before I was totally aware of the symptoms.

I got worse.

A lot worse.

An hour later I felt so awful I started crying which woke Matt up.

"I think I've got mastitis" I wailed.

He passed me some painkillers and lay there with me until 8am when we could phone the doctor. Both kids were still sleeping soundly. Isn't it just typical that the first day of half term, the first day with no alarm call or school run, I get woken by an achy tit with the sparrows fart?

Sod's law with bells on!

I was too ill to feel angry though.

I phoned the doctor and managed to get an appointment at 8.50am. Thankfully the painkillers had kicked in and I was able (just about) to drive myself down to the doctors while Matt looked after the children.

The doctor confirmed it.

"You're lucky you've caught it fairly early" she said prodding (as gently as she could) my, now red, boob as I winced in agony "It really is quite horrendous if it gets really severe. You did the right thing coming down straight away".

This was early? Man alive what must the pain feel like if its really severe then? I honestly could have passed out it was that bad when it woke me.

I was aching all over and shivering too. I felt 10 times worse than having full-blown flu.

Mastitis is more common in the first few weeks of breast feeding so I stupidly thought I was pretty safe. How wrong I was. Apparently it was TC clamping down on me during feeds because of his severe teething (that's a whole other post in itself!) that has caused the problem. Thankfully my doctor was well aware of it having breastfed her child for 2.5 years!

I'm not alone in my sufferings with mastitis. The mere mention of it on Twitter and a fair few of my lovely followers told me horror tales of hospitalisation, pain worse than labour and so on.

The doctor gave me a high (but safe in breastfeeding) dosage of antibiotics and anti-inflammatories and told me if I didn't start to see improvement by the morning to get myself to the emergency doctor or A&E - apparently she was concerned about it being an abscess. Nasty.

To cut a painfully long story short, I spent the rest of Friday in bed. At one point I was wearing pyjamas, socks, 2 (yes 2!) dressing gowns and under a 13.5 tog duvet with a blanket and I was still shivering. I couldn't sleep. Although I was tired I felt too ill to even sleep.

I tried to feed TC through it but he started to develop diaorreah on Friday afternoon and by Saturday, even though the drugs were starting to make me feel better, they had upset his stomach and he couldn't keep any feed down at all.

I had no choice (after consulting the doctor again) to stop breastfeeding him and switch to formula.

Sat 27th Oct - possibly the last breastfeeding
picture I will ever take :( It must be fate I took this.

I've mentioned before that Tiny Ched wouldn't take a bottle. Well, it seems he now loves the bottle all of a sudden. The taste of my drug-filled milk has turned him away from my bosom.

I'm heartbroken.

Yes my boobs are aching and I hate expressing and throwing my contaminated milk down the sink but the pain of not being able to feed my little boy is more upsetting. I wanted to stop breastfeeding when I was ready, not when some nasty-assed inflammation decided it was time.

I'm still hopeful I can re-establish a bit of feeding with him once the drugs are out of my system but something tells me this may be an abrupt end to the breast bond with my boy.

So, to anyone who's breastfeeding or about to breastfeed, heed my warning. If you suspect mastitis (although the bitch got me whilst I slept) go straight to your doctor, do not pass go and do not collect £200! It's pretty serious.

Also, if you're a cow, my friend has some prevention medicine*






*Obviously cows don't read my blog....as if they'd be interested in my moooooosings! Yup, I'll get my coat.

Absence Really Does Make The Heart Grow Fonder

According to Elton John, 'sorry' seems to be the hardest word.

I'd like to challenge Mr. John (or should I say Mr. Dwight?) over that song. For me 'goodbye' seems to be the hardest word.

As those of you who read my Pregnancy Patter post last Monday will know, Matt had to go away for a short while.  He's still away now, as I write this, and I can honestly say it's been really hard.

It sounds so silly being so upset about him going away for what works out to be not even 5 days but he works from home so I'm used to having him here. Of course, he goes away on business a bit but he usually only goes for one night and the most he's ever been away in the past 8 years has been 2 nights. Also, the furthest he's ever been is Holland.

This time he's over 3,500 miles away.

In America.

We all had a last dinner out together before we
took Daddy to the station - this was just before
we left the restaurant to catch his train

Saying goodbye to him at the end of last week was really difficult. I hate the thought of him being so far away from us. Being 35 weeks pregnant is really making this so hard. I miss him terribly and every time I think about it I get all blubbery and snotty. It doesn't help that Mini Cheddar keeps cuddling me, stroking my hair and saying "It will be okay Mummy. Daddy will be home soon".  I feel like MC is looking after me at the moment! Thankfully yesterday we had 2 video calls with him on Skype which helped a lot.

It's really made me appreciate everything I have. Really made me realise just how much I love my husband. I've always loved him, right from when we first met, but this ache in my heart is horrible. I don't know if it's pregnancy hormones heightening everything (I think it is) but the distance and the different time zone that's between us right now is something I can't get my head around. It's also been hard that it's completely taken away our 'family time' at the weekend. Having inlaws in Nottingham means one day every other weekend is spent seeing them so it reduces our weekends together enough as it is.

All I could do last week when we parted was think about how it must feel for people (especially those with children) to be separated for long periods of time. I have a friend who's husband is in the US Army and they went for 15 months without seeing each other - they have 3 children. I just don't know how you get through that. I have a new found appreciation for all the people who spend long periods of time away from their families. Especially those in the forces who can't guarantee that their loved one will return home to them.

A final kiss for Daddy at the train station

I know Matt is finding it equally hard. He was fighting back tears (as was I) as he kissed us goodbye at the train station to get his train down to Heathrow. Before I'd even returned to the car he'd sent me a text saying "I just want to get off this train and come home with you". A couple of days before he was due to leave he started questioning whether he should go or not. He just kept saying "I don't think I can leave you both". The thing is, this is a great opportunity for him - if he gets the job. He's not happy doing what he's doing at the moment and I can see how much it's frustrating him. Problem is, if he does get this job it will eventually mean more travel as the role covers Europe, Africa and the Middle East. Thankfully his immediate focus will be in the U.K. but my mind keeps thinking about the possibility of being separated from him again in the future...and we will have two children by then.

I'm guessing what will be, will be. He has to get the job first.

For now I'm just concentrating on getting through the next couple of days until he's home safe with us again. I can't wait to pick him up from the station on Tuesday afternoon.

It's true what they say - absence does make the heart grow fonder. I didn't think it was possible to love my husband any more but I do.

I miss him so much it hurts.