Lets Talk About Sex…..

Or rather the lack of sex. There’s an opener for you (no pun intended). Its been 45 days since I pushed Edward out into the world. As I’ve said before, life will never be the same again. Neither I fear, will my vagina.

At a time when I couldn’t feel less attractive, I count my lucky stars that my husband still does. Perhaps its the bigger (soon to be gone) boobs? Anyway, he does, and when I’m still walking about in maternity clothes because I’m carrying a lot of baby weight, alright, alright its excess food weight, its a big boost to me to know that he still thinks I’m sexy. Or perhaps he’s been that deprived for so long he’s slightly delusional? I’ll go with option 1!

Thing is, I feel completely weirded out by my body. Yes, its a thing of total awe and wonder when I think about how it grew, nurtured and kept our baby safe for 9 months. Thats a given, and I hope all Mums feel that way. However, underneath that, all I see is something thats ruined, something that will never be as it was, and more than anything, something that is now functional and not sexual.

I’m not breastfeeding (waits for backlash)…. Thats a topic for another day, but seeing as i’ve mentioned it, he had a poor latch and my supply wasn’t good at all. Moving swiftly on…. So Edward is formula fed, but for the first couple of weeks he did use my milk as food, as a result of that my nipples have had a meltdown and are no longer sure who they are supposed to please! My lovely flat (complete with abs) tummy now feels and looks like a pillow of marshmallow, its former incarnation buried deep under the layers on extra insulation. Generally my frame looks different, the curves are all in the wrong places. My posture is complete shite after lugging around a rather large bump in the last two months of my pregnancy. With a destroyed core, that makes walking tall with a straight back somewhat of a challenge.

Last, but by no means least, we come to the crux, or should that be crotch of the matter? I am terrified of having sex again. I really REALLY want to, but something that I can’t quite pin down is stopping me. At a time when my body doesn’t really feel like mine anymore, that’s the ultimate loss. I go over and over this in my head every day. What’s bothering me? I guess I’m worried about two things in particular….

  1. Will it hurt? I had a second degree tear which resulted in stitches, apparently its all healed, but surely its going to be painful now?
  2. Will it feel awful? I once read an analogy of it being like ‘throwing a sausage down a well’. At the time I thought that was hilarious, now it just perturbs me.

The only way to find out is to bite the bullet and do it, but the thought of it makes me tense up with fear. I know if either of my two concerns are realised, I am going to be heartbroken…particularly number 2. The idea of a ruined sex life is one that horrifies me. It opens up a whole world of worry about what could happen to us as a result.

Maybe I am being dramatic about all of this, maybe I have nothing to fear, but finding out that my worries are real is the scariest thing of all. Plus, how do I get in the mood? Despite hubby’s assurances that he still thinks I’m hot, I don’t see it, and feel nothing but self conscious. What if he’s really looking at me thinking ‘bollocks, thats who I have to sleep with forever’? It may sound mental, but I do think those things, how could I not? I am different after all. I felt like I had achieved something the other day simply by putting a watch on….hardly dressing up is it? Plus, he’s seen the damage, he looked as I was being sewn up, and whats that saying about a mans favourite pub burning down? Never the same again right? He’s off out tomorrow night, and while I sit at home in my dressing gown, he’ll be surrounded by lots of lovely young ladies who haven’t had a baby, and don’t look like death warmed up, with fully functioning vaginas….its not just the physical changes i’ve had, its my mind that feels completely fucked too….at least thats one part of me thats getting some action – even if it is rubbish







Perfectly Imperfect 

There aren’t many people on the planet that won’t have heard of Tony Robbins. I’m not entirely sure of all of his official credentials, but he’s seen as some “King of Coaches”legend.

The man is known worldwide and I am sure that thousands (at least) of people would tout him as someone who has had a positive impact on their lives. So for that I salute him, because hey, I’d love to be known for having a positive impact on people too.

However, this morning on FB someone had shared a post of his. The title of which was “New Year = A New Life”….I’m sorry, but what complete and utter bullshit.

Just how exactly is that possible? Suddenly waking up on January the 1st means the shitty slate has been wiped clean? To me, that title, that headline if you will, is totally unrealistic and a tad irresponsible.

In general, my theory is that most people want a quick fix, they are looking for the magic pill, potion or formula to transform their lives….spoiler alert – IT DOESNT EXIST!

I’m sorry but this world we live in of instant fixes and metaphorical band aids pisses me off. So for someone with as much clout as TR to trot out that huge gem of hope to the masses is infuriating to me.

Now I am 100% for people wanting to change their lives, I would happily be head of the cheerleading team for anyone that wants to move forward, to break free from something, to become unstuck. I would love to be the person that could help to facilitate that. But, that change is not as simple as waking up on the first day of the year hoping for the best.

If we really REALLY want those things, then we have to work to get them. That work isn’t always pleasant. It can be draining, emotional and fraught. Digging about under the surface will always uproot something. Whilst that notion is uncomfortable and scary for many, it’s exactly what is needed to get that person on the road to where they need or want to be.

I saw a program not so long ago about our reliance as a nation on painkillers and antibiotics. Go to the Doctors, get a prescription and all is well again. However those pills we all shovel down are very often just covering something up, something bigger that really needs looking at. The pills will make it better for a while, but sooner or later you’ll be making another appointment for that ultimate cover up.

It takes guts, grit and honesty to find your cure, your genuine way forward, it also takes time. There is no perfect day, or perfect start. So why not just start anyway? However, rather than starting with that flashing beacon of “A New Life” dazzling your retinas, start where you are, with what you have available.

It might not be glamorous, elegant, seamless. It definitely won’t be a smooth newly tarmaced pavement, there will be spots where you could trip or stumble, a hole where you might fall down and scrape your knee, and it’ll probably happen when someone else is around to see it so your pride will be hurt as well as your body. It will however be you. The real you, with all your fucked up beautiful imperfections.

It is the start of a new year, but every new day is that blank page you’re waiting for. It doesn’t need to be a certain day on a calendar, and if that’s what you’re waiting on, then you’ll never do anything. You will end up in ‘Groundhog Hell’ year after year of promising yourself so much, and actually doing fuck all.

This is your life racing by, your one precious life, and it’s disappearing in a fog of missed opportunities and failed expectations, because circumstances weren’t perfect enough for you to actually make that change.

So if you are already thinking that on Jan 2nd the sparkle is fading then listen up. You will not get infinite New Years to change things, that illusion needs to be shattered and swept up like shards of glass. If you are ready, and I mean really ready then you will make a change, and keep your own promises. You will get off the sofa and work out, you will quit your shit job that destroys your soul, you’ll pack in the cancer sticks, stop getting smashed every weekend, stop shagging the wrong people…the list of ‘things we want to change’ is endless. The change will always ALWAYS start with you. Not with the chiming of Big Ben, not with the turning of a page in a calendar, and not from any guru.


2016 I Thank You

It would seem that everywhere you look people are slating 2016, cries of “can’t wait to see the back of this one” or “its been the worst year ever” are in abundance. I don’t pretend to know what each individual has gone through this year, for some it may genuinely have been the worst year of their lives, and if thats the case then I sincerely hope that the next 12 months are kinder to you. For the rest of us however, is there just a touch over ‘over dramatisation’ going on here?

As humans it is a fact that we are predisposed to believe and/or listen to the negative, this is a basic primal instinct as it helps us to survive, but we are no longer cave dwellers, we live in houses built of brick, with heating, lighting and hopefully a well stocked fridge, times have moved on, and maybe our thinking needs to as well.

The year has been smattered with the passing of some of the highest public profile names, people that should still be here, but for reasons beyond any of our control, they aren’t anymore. We’ve had Brexit which apparently wasn’t what was wanted, we’re waiting for the new age of Trump to begin, which is also seemingly a hugely unpopular result, but thats whats happening.

Do those things though therefore mean that MY life has been shit this year? Not at all, 2016 will always be a year I remember, because it has brought about one undeniable fact. Things have changed, I have changed, and change is the thing that a lot of us struggle with.

We sit in our little bubbles, politely ambling along, living out our lives in our set in stone routines. We don’t like it when anything threatens the status quo. Why so fearful though? Whats wrong with shaking things up?

In April of this year I suffered a miscarriage, a heavy blow to both myself and my husband, a loss that will be etched into both of our hearts forever, that baby should be here now, but they aren’t, and they never will be. That fact hurts like hell. For that reason alone I could join the ‘we hate 2016’ masses, but I refuse to. That event, as horrible as it was, started a chain of other events that have led to wonderful things for me, and for us.

I am not the same person I was before our miscarriage, neither is my husband. It was the first thing in a long time that really shook us up, as people in our own right, and as a couple. Would I want to go back to being that person now? Absolutely not. She needed a kick up the arse and she got it, she needed to realise that simply ambling along was never going to be enough, and that as solid as her foundations were, there was always that something out there that could come along and move her in ways she never thought possible.

It seems strange to look back now at the beginning of the year, both of us believing that we would sail into parenthood with the greatest of ease, how foolish we were. Why should that have happened? Why should we be exempt from pain? Why should any of us be?

There is injustice all around us, thats a Wet Wet Wet song that never took off *mood lightener there*. That injustice doesn’t discriminate. It’ll wait for us to feel at our most secure and then come along and try to ruin it. So how do we deal with that?

“Wherever there is dark, there will be light” This is something I truly believe, as its been proven to me time and time again. It is within us to take something painful and use it to our advantage, we always, always have a choice. Let it consume you and beat you, or use it to move yourself forward, onto a better place, filled with things you never dreamt becoming a reality.

After our miscarriage I needed two things, one was to talk to someone I didn’t know, to be able to spew out all the hideousness swirling round in my head, and secondly I needed a holiday.

These needs led me to seeking out a life coach, and booking a week away in Portugal. Both of these things were also life changing. My coach Liz, not only helped me to process and deal with my thoughts around our loss, but also to put a load of other shit to bed that I had merely been hiding under the bed for years. Things that would have continued to always hold me back. My work with her has had a hugely positive impact, I am now training to be a life coach myself, something that I would NEVER have found the guts to do without going through that process. It also made me love myself, as I genuinely struggled with that notion beforehand. Voices from the past plagued me constantly, and via Liz, I have silenced them.

In Portugal we fell pregnant again. Its amazing what some sunshine and relaxation can do for the mind, body and soul. We are now just over 28 weeks and our baby is due in March next year. There are no words for the happiness and excitement we both feel at the prospect of our child coming into the world.

Neither of these positives have been easy though, the coaching meant being really fucking honest about stuff and facing things I had managed to avoid for decades. It was tough, really tough. Falling pregnant again has also been fraught with anxiety. Getting through those first 3 months were like walking on thin ice, I was terrified of one wrong foot placement and falling through into the freezing depths beneath. History repeating itself was always at the forefront of my mind, and never let either of us rest.

I guess my point is, that in order for joy to occur there must always be sorrow, one cannot exist without the other. If you live your life thinking that’s the case, then you are heading for a fall. None of us are exempt from anguish, from devastation and grief. However, none of us are excluded from moments of life affirming beauty and wonder. Its all part of LIVING and not just existing.

2016, I thank you for the lessons you have forced me to learn, for the discomfort you pushed me into which has in turn enabled me to break free and become unstuck. I also thank you for your rewards, those gems that mean my life is brighter than it has ever been before.

To all of you reading this, I wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas, Buon Natale, and Joyeux Noel if thats your bag, if not then I wish light and love for you regardless of your faith.

Go forward with your eyes open, don’t shy away from the scary and uncomfortable and if they come looking for you, use them as best as you can. You’ll never know where they could move you onto unless you embrace them.





Confessions of This Blogger

I have to fess up, and I’m fessing up to something I didn’t even know I’d been doing until yesterday.

I was getting ready to go to a friends and watching some of Jason Silvas posts on FB, he was talking about love, and learning, music and sorrow, and I resonated with every single word. It’s so outside of our normal chatter, I never hear anyone talk the way he does, but that’s how I talk internally, and how I’d love to talk openly as well.

I’ve realised that I’ve been holding back in my blog posts. When this blog was born I wanted it to be raw, and real. Whilst there has been no occurrence of bullshit, and everything I’ve written is from the heart, there are layers to that and I’ve definitely been staying near the surface.

My posts “Ode to Squash” and “An Open Letter to My Husband” were the exception to that, they were my heart, my bones, my tears on a page, and they are the posts I’m most proud of. They aren’t contrived and watered down, they are me in all my glory, or as near to it as I’ve allowed myself to go so far.

So why have I been doing this? Because I’ve let myself be scared, scared that I’ll be judged. That if I spill my real thoughts and feelings out in this place then I’ll be ridiculed. I’m quite proud of this realisation. For me it means I’m growing as a person, I know my shortcomings, and caring about what others think is one of them.

Why do I give a shit? Because I don’t want to be laughed at, I don’t want muttering behind my back, for someone to tell me that I’m OTT or too intense, that I should tone things down. The thing is, that bigger than those concerns is the thought that I also don’t want my tones to be muted, I want vibrant, out there and in your face. I want to stop people in their tracks and make them think.

It’s one of the reasons I’m training to do what I am, because I want people to wake up. To see colours instead of greys, to recognise fear, put their arms around it and say “I’m going to use you as motivation, and not as an excuse not to try”, to smash through the walls they’ve put up around them and be all they can be.

That’s what I want for me too, to live bravely, to know that nothing is certain, nothing is within my control and to just fucking go for it. Even by writing this post I am making myself more exposed, I am starting the process of peeling back my own layers to the “me” that sits in turmoil under all the day to day crap and small talk.

I don’t want half measures or lukewarm. I want a cup running over and red hot instead. I want the big conversations, about stuff that matters, about thinking outside of my own parameters.

I want to talk about the beauty I see in things, and also the pain, the darkness and the light. To indulge myself in those big moments that we all notice, but even more so in those little things that only I see. I want and need to do that in a way that leaves nothing unsaid, no stone unturned, no note unplayed.

This has to be real, and authentic and full of truth. It will mean being unapologetic, unashamed and most importantly, it’ll mean being unafraid. There are tears while I write this, like I’ve got out of my own way a little bit more. It feels as though I’ve suddenly given myself permission to do this, to push the limits of what I believe I’m capable of.

If people do mock, then bollocks to them. They don’t have to read or follow, how they feel about my writing or who I am as a human being shouldn’t leave me feeling suppressed or hemmed in, that’s their stuff and not mine. If friends laugh and belittle, then they aren’t people I need or want around me anyway. From now on there will be more, more of me, my dreams, worries, hopes, joys and regrets.

To write this blog halfheartedly would be a huge waste, because I know it’s worth it. Worth it for me and worth it for the others out there, those others unsettled by the rapids coursing through them, who currently feel crushed by the weight of what they aren’t saying, who look at the stars and wonder so much.

Fear is being replaced by excitement, hope and courage. Speak your truth, speak it loudly with conviction, speak from your depths.