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becoming a mum

Find the thing that makes you feel more like you

04/10/2023 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

I’m not me when I’m not writing.

I am on the face of it, but I know there’s a percentage missing. I can’t quantify it exactly, but the longer the gap between writing stints, the bigger it feels. It’s got too big for comfort recently, so I pencilled the last two Wednesday afternoons in to fix that, and this post was the result.

People talk a lot about losing their identities when they have children. About feeling detached from who they were before. And it certainly is a journey. I remember being on the bus not long after my daughter was born and seeing a young woman walking down the road by herself and thinking: How dare you be so free? Who do you think you are?! (I was very tired).

One woman, many titles

But I guess the real question was: Who did I think I was now? The titles are easy enough to work through. I’m a mother, a wife, a copywriter, a daughter, a sister, a friend, my local confectionery counter’s most loyal customer, and more.

But what am I to me? A woman who loves books. Who’s always on the hunt for a bargain. Who likes to eat a Cadbury’s Boost in peace every now and again thanks very much. Who needs to write to feel sane.

I don’t miss who I was before my children were born because if I’m her, I’m not their mum, and I’m not interested in that. There’s a clear line between who I was before they showed up and who I became that day in the hospital back in November 2017. It is the privilege of my life to have stepped across it.

But yes, of course I miss the freedom sometimes. I miss knowing that the toilet door will stay shut when I’m in the bathroom. I miss watching TV shows on a Saturday afternoon that don’t feature animals turning into superheroes. I miss drinking cocktails without fear of the horrific consequences if I’m pulled out of bed at 5am by a child demanding CBeebies.

But I can (and do) live without such luxuries. That was me several versions ago, before I underwent a full systems update that blew my mind (and left quite the scar too). To go back isn’t what I need, I’d lose all my changes.

Rather than a loss of identity, I try and see it as my next iteration. I’ve been reprogrammed to cope with what it feels like to live in my body now. With a heart that lives outside my chest, in the form of two small children. Sometimes it’s cartwheeling across the landing, sometimes it’s drinking fistfuls of water from the toilet bowl. (I have an almost six year old girl and a two year old son. I’ll let you guess who enjoys which activity).

Still you, just with less free time

It’s not my identity that’s gone, but the time to engage with all parts of it. When parenting is proving tricky, which it often does, days can last years around here. But the rest of the time, they speed by inexplicably quickly. Where exactly has 2023 gone? Why isn’t my son tiny any more? Why do I make that sound when I lift him up? I want more time, but that’s not an option.

Because it’s time that allows us to connect with who we are, and to do the things that give us strength. Moments when I get to do my own things – however simple and trivial – make all the difference.

I’ve had ‘Wash make up brushes!’ on my to-do list for months now, and I have finally done it. It’s a tiny job that took about ten minutes. The effect it had on my wellbeing was unexpectedly huge. I became the kind of woman who has clean brushes. And, more importantly, the kind of woman who has time to have clean brushes. I look forward to being her again some time next year.

The problem is that the hierarchy of items on my to-do list is non-negotiable. I don’t even want to shift it particularly (though if somebody else could figure out what we’re going to serve up/scrape into the bin for dinner that would be great). I just want the day to become 30 hours long so I can fit more in, and rest usefully too.

I can tell when I’m feeling detached from my hobbies and positive habits because my social media scrolling goes through the roof. I’m searching for something I won’t find. Some kind of answer or real connection. Some peace (which will NEVER be found in a phone). I’ll give myself mountains of small-scale admin to justify all the scrolling, but what I’m actually doing is ignoring the problem: I need a break.

Hobbies can feel like a holiday

Creativity gives me that. I consider myself lucky that my chosen form of creativity involves writing down what’s in my head as it’s wonderfully therapeutic. It makes me feel calmer too, which has got to be good for the household.

I keep buying and asking for notebooks, despite having more than enough. I think I believe that the more I own, the more time will magically appear in my diary to sit down and be great on the page. It’s not really worked so far, but if you think that will stop me popping Moleskines on my Christmas list, you’re wrong.

I’m doing my best to grab time to connect with my brain beyond my main, beautiful, exhausting job as MUM. To take an hour or so here and there to put pen to paper for the sake of it. I write a lot for work (which I love), so it’s a treat to get to tell my story just for fun.

Mum guilt is real (and unhelpful)

This topic comes up a lot for me in my free writing and my blogs. And I think it’s because I still need convincing that this use of time really is justified. That I am permitted to do something just for me.

My husband goes to the gym and I never question the value of physical fitness. But the things we do for our brains are just as worthwhile. I don’t owe my family every single moment of my time, I owe it to them to model what it takes to be a fully rounded, happy person.

I’ve written it down and I know it’s true, but really truly believing it without guilt is still a work in progress. Perhaps it always will be.

I think half the battle for parents is figuring out what we need to do to connect with ourselves beyond our children, which will then help us connect better with them.

Everybody’s thing will be different and equally valid, and it can take time to determine what it is. Leon likes working out. I like sitting down to work out what on earth my handwriting is supposed to say and then typing it up here.

Both are solid uses of time. Here’s to squeezing a little more in, when the toilet bowl patrol schedule allows.

What makes you feel more like you? I’d love to know.

Posted in: LIFE LESSONS, On parenting Tagged: becoming a mum, becoming parents, free time, having a baby, having a daughter, having a son, hobbies, parenting, writing

Intentions for 2022 and beyond

02/01/2022 by Charlotte 2 Comments

To avoid the ‘I’ll be happy when…’ trap

We bought a house in June. It’s great to be here, there’s just lots to do to bring it up to date.

Ever since we arrived we’ve been having rooms decorated and bathrooms renovated. And I noticed early on that when a project has such an endless to-do list, it’s tempting to let your own impatience prevent you from feeling happy with progress.

I had to stop myself thinking ‘If only we could get the bedrooms painted, then I’ll be happy’ and then as soon as that was done ‘Ok, now we need the downstairs loo done, then I can be content’.

If I sign up to that way of thinking, I’ll deny myself happiness… forever? Houses are never really finished, are they.

No, I cannot wait to get the eighties kitchen out and modern fittings in. And yes, toilets made this century will enhance our lives. But I’m not going to hate my house until it’s all done. I refuse to lose sight of how much I love how far we’ve come.

To keep celebrating the little things

For the first six months of 2021, I wrote a list everyday in my diary called ‘Today’s good things’. (We then moved house and had a baby. I’ve hardly had time to go to the toilet since then let alone write anything down).

I’d pick out a handful of reasons to be grateful for the day we’d just had. I did it to boost my morale during lockdown, and to remind me that even when life feels tough, there’s always good stuff going on too.

I felt quite emotional reading it back. I’d noted down so many little things that meant that, despite the context, we were lucky and happy. Fresh air featured a lot, as did cuddles with our daughter. On one day I ended with ‘Just how much we love her’. Aside from mentions of life changing stuff like house move progress and baby scans and kicks, most things were small, everyday moments I wanted to cling to.

It helped at the time and it’s a lovely thing to look back on. So I’m going to do it again for 2022. Our son is already growing up too quickly so I want to write down all the ways he brings me joy. As long as he lets me sleep I’m sure I’ll have the energy to pick up a pen again.

To speak to myself more kindly

Anxiety and I will live alongside one another forever I’m sure. But when my inner dialogue and I work as a team, that’s when I get to win.

I haven’t done so well on that front lately. I found a note I wrote whilst trying to work through a worry which said “Anxiety makes you feel small and insignificant but also massive and in the way”. And that’s the problem. It skews your view of yourself and the world to such an extent that it makes it difficult to have the rational, helpful thoughts that would make it go away.

So I want to keep working on that inner voice.

My excellent friend Alexa Radcliffe-Hart wrote this great blog about selecting a word to guide you through the year. I think I’m going with ‘Deserving’ for mine. Of space, kindness, rest, choice. It’s what I want my children to believe about themselves, so I need to model it myself.

To be truly present when I can, and kinder to myself when I can’t

The combination of being a worrier, planner, and a parent means I find it hard to live in the moment. But I’m definitely happier when I do, so I’m trying to make it more of a habit.

I’m learning to spot opportunities to let go and just play with my daughter or walk at her pace or cuddle the baby. We don’t always have to be moving towards the next thing.

…but we do sometimes. So when I have to keep half my head in the future, planning for the next snack/meal/nap/absurdly large load of washing, I need to forgive myself for it. I’m doing my best.

To read more

This will be my goal forever. I think I read about seven or eight of my books in 2021 (plus 4000 children’s books). It’s not a contest, just something I enjoy so I intend to do more of it. Even just a page a day is worth having.

To keep writing what I feel like writing

If it brings value to you (and it doesn’t hurt anybody) there is value in whatever you feel like producing. That’s what I tell myself every time I sit down to write.

I get so much from writing – whether it’s in a notebook to clear my mind, or published here. So I’m going to keep doing it when I can.

It occurred to me at the end of the year that this blog started as a simple creative outlet, then it became a series of what are essentially love letters. To my husband, my friends, my family, myself, and, more recently, to my children.

I look forward to writing many more.

I hope you will do more of what you love in 2022. Happy New Year, and thanks for reading.

Posted in: LIFE LESSONS, ON CONFIDENCE, On parenting, ON WRITING Tagged: 2022, becoming a mum, having a baby, having a daughter, having a son, intentions, new year, new year's resolutions, parenting, resolutions, writing

33 lessons I learnt during my 33rd year

08/07/2018 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

33 lessons I learnt during my 33rd yearYou know the drill by now – I’ll turn 33 this week, so, as is tradition, I’ve written a list of things I have to say at this point in time. This time it’s some of the lessons this period has taught me. My 33rd year has been dominated by pregnancy and my daughter’s first seven months in the world, so they’re mostly about that, with a few bonus points chucked in for good measure.

(Here are the lists I wrote when I turned 29, 30, 31 and 32, in case you’d like to catch up before we get going.)

1. I’ve learnt that you have absolutely no idea what it’s like to have a baby until you have a baby and that, even then, you only really know what it’s like for you.

2. I’ve learnt that the return of mid-length shorts to the world of fashion could not have come at a better time. I spend most of the day bending down to pick up my child and I need to be able to do so without fear of arrest.

3. I’ve learnt that optimism is heading down to theatre to have a caesarean section with your knickers on in the hope that the surgeons will just cut along the waistband.

4. I’ve learnt that marriage is having to take those knickers off and hand them to your husband to store in the pocket of his scrubs. The spiral of indignity started there and ended… hang on, when will that be?

5. I’ve learnt that when you have a baby your body changes. Mine is bigger, it’s wobblier, and it’s scarred. Of course it is, I housed a giant child for nine months and then had her cut out of me. I am grateful for everything my body let me do and I am happy to look a little different as a result. Women, there’s enough nonsense out there about how we should or shouldn’t look. The least we can do is refuse to add our own voices to the noise.

6. I’ve learnt that instead of thinking ‘What would Beyoncé or Oprah or Emma Thompson do?’, it’s more useful to think ‘What would I do in this situation if I wasn’t worried about what anybody else thought?’

7. I’ve learnt that having a baby makes you look at your parents completely differently. Finally, true empathy and gratitude starts to kick in. Oh wow, you did all this for me. Holy sh*t, this is hard work. Thank you, thank you so much.

8. I’ve learnt that when I look at a picture of my daughter on my phone, I think: That’s my heart right there. That is a photograph of my heart. Oh no wait, that’s 76576 photographs of my heart and my phone memory is full AGAIN.

9. I’ve learnt that marriage is hard when you’ve started a family because you both spend all your time cuddling somebody else. It’s important to make a little room for each other too when you can.

10. I’ve learnt that if you want to eat an iced bun you should eat an iced bun because life is short and cake is delicious.

33 lessons I learnt during my 33rd year

Picture by @ben_cameron. I’ve learnt that he can articulate my feelings in a drawing.

11. I’ve learnt that, whereas I used to be too afraid to wear a jumpsuit because you have to take the entire thing off to go to the toilet (what if somebody walked in?), so many people at our local hospital have now seen me do so much more than that that I no longer care. Join the freakin’ list, lads.

12. I’ve learnt that there is a serious gap in the market for a wearable drinking vessel for breastfeeding mums. No activity on this earth makes you thirstier, and yet you don’t have any hands free to hold a drink. Come on, someone, invent something.

13. I’ve learnt that people who show up at your door with food during the first few weeks of your baby’s life are the greatest people in the world.

14. I’ve learnt that perfect strangers think you don’t know very much about your own child. “She’s tall isn’t she!” Yep. “She’s a big baby isn’t she!” Uhuh. “She’s long for that pram isn’t she!” SHE USED TO LIVE IN MY BODY. I AM AWARE OF ALL OF THESE THINGS.

15. I’ve learnt that all it would take for me to be interested in the World Cup is a nice man in a blue waistcoat in charge of the England team.

16. I’ve learnt that one of the greatest gifts motherhood has given me is the opportunity to say “Come on then, let’s get you home!” into the pram when I need to get out of an awkward social situation.

17. I’ve learnt that it’s hard when you’re in charge of a small person’s life not to see everything else in the world as utterly trivial. But it’s important that you don’t.

18. I’ve learnt that no human being on this earth yields more power than a baby who finds themselves momentarily without a nappy.

19. I’ve learnt that the reason it’s so difficult to just be ourselves is because who we are never stops changing.

20. I’ve learnt that when people tell you to make the most of your free time before you have a baby you think ‘Yeah yeah yeah, what does that even mean?’, and then you give birth and you realise exactly what that would have meant, but it’s too late.

21. I’ve learnt that I’ll feel sick for the 12 hours before I’m going to be away from my daughter, but that, if it’s to go and do something fun, and she’s in safe hands, I will feel better when I get there, and that the time away will do me good.

33 lessons I learnt during my 33rd year22. I’ve learnt that it is possible to feel nostalgic about things that you found really difficult. Pregnancy was tough – my back hurt, I had migraines all the time, and I became so enormous that I could hardly walk. But still, sometimes I miss it. I miss carrying her around with me, and the freedom only retrospect has made me realise that I had.

23. I’ve learnt that any mother you see feeding a baby will probably have been through quite a journey to get that child to eat in a way that works for them both. I thought it would be simple, but it wasn’t.

24. I’ve learnt that my hopes and dreams outside motherhood are very much still alive and well, it’s just that I have to use my free time more wisely now to make sure they happen.

25. I’ve learnt that the second you start to get used to whatever stage your baby’s at, they’ll move onto the next one. Don’t you dare start to think that you know what you’re doing.

26. I’ve learnt that I wear make-up for my own benefit. When I first became a mum, I discovered that I felt better if the face looking back at me in the mirror looked as nice as I think it can. It was my view I was concerned with, not anybody else’s.

27. I’ve learnt that having a baby increases your ability to hold a grudge. I’m sorry, was that a negative word/thought/exhalation in my daughter’s direction? Goodbye forever.

28. I’ve learnt that it’s good to do things that scare you. Maternity leave can be daunting as hell, as I wrote here, but it does help if you leave the house, try something new, and meet people. If you’d told me last year that I would join a choir and be up for singing with them in front of other people, I’m not sure I’d have believed you. A lot can change in a year.

29. I’ve learnt that you discover just how good your hearing is when your child is born. I’d be able to hear our daughter crying through a typhoon. I can’t hear my own mobile phone ring when it’s in my hand, but at least I’ve got her covered.

30. I’ve learnt that if somebody sat you down and really made you understand what the first few weeks of having a baby are like, you simply wouldn’t do it. So thank goodness they don’t.

31. I’ve learnt that if somebody had sat me down and tried to articulate how incredible seeing our baby being born would feel, they still wouldn’t have been able to prepare us.

32. I’ve learnt that I feel like I’ve aged a lot more than just one year in the last 12 months.

33. I’ve learnt that, even though it’s been hard and tiring and more emotional than a season finale of Grey’s Anatomy, I wouldn’t change a single thing.

Posted in: ON CONFIDENCE, On parenting, On pregnancy, ON RELATIONSHIPS Tagged: babies, becoming a mum, birthday, c-section, caesarean section, giving birth, having a daughter, lessons, life lessons, lists, motherhood, parenting, turning 33

I remember

10/12/2017 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

I remember my alarm going off at 5.30am like we were getting up to go on holiday. But we weren’t. We were getting up to go and have a baby.

I remember sitting in the hospital waiting room and the midwife coming to say we were first on the list and we’d be going down to theatre soon. That c-section we’d talked about, it was going to be happening soon.

I remember going onto the ward and putting on a gown and compression stockings and Leon getting into scrubs. We took a selfie. We look terrified.

I remember walking down to theatre and entering a room filled with strangers and implements and bright lights. I remember remembering to be brave.

I remember placing my trust and my heart into the hands of an anaesthetist I’d just met. I remember she was nothing but amazing throughout.

I remember what it feels like to park your phobias at the door – of needles, of incisions, of surgery – in the spirit of the greater good. Our baby.

I remember having a catheter inserted and realising that when I thought the upside of having to have the baby this way was that there’d be fewer opportunities for me to lose my dignity, I was wrong.

I remember losing all feeling from the chest down. I remember panicking. I remember calming down. I remember hearing “You’re doing really well, Charlotte” again and again and needing to hear it. Needing to be the child in the room for just a few minutes more.

I remember a sheet going up and it starting.

I remember suddenly chilling right out. I remember making jokes, people laughing. They weren’t funny I’m sure, but when a woman with her bikini line cut open makes a joke YOU LAUGH.

I remember feeling some pushing and some pulling and being absolutely able to handle it. I was doing this. Somehow I was letting this happen.

I remember that I’d almost forgotten what this whole procedure was for until the anaesthetist said “I can see a foot”.

I remember nothing and then everything. Time stopping and then speeding by. I heard “You’ve got to see this,” the sheet came down and our baby was there in front of us. A girl, they said, you’ve got a baby girl.

I remember that we laughed. A deranged, euphoric, overwhelmed guffaw at the sight of our giant, gooey, bright pink and white baby daughter, shattering our hearts with her very first cry.

I remember her disappearing out of sight and calling “Mummy’s here” as she shrieked from the scales. Mummy. Because that’s my name now.

I remember the moment she was placed into my arms, the softest, most precious bundle I’ve ever held.

I remember her looking straight at me, with these enormous, beautiful eyes that I couldn’t believe the two of us had made.

I remember looking at Leon and the world feeling smaller than ever before. There’s just three of us in it now. That’s it.

I remember the moment our lives changed forever.

Posted in: On parenting, ON RELATIONSHIPS Tagged: babies, becoming a mum, c-section, daughter, giving birth, having a baby, love, mummy, parenting

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Hello friends, 12.5 years into blog writing life I Hello friends, 12.5 years into blog writing life I've decided to make a change and move over to Substack. It's where all the kids are blogging these days so I thought I'd join the party. I've also decided to give it a different name, so I'm here to introduce 'While I've got you', which will basically be exactly the same as Nothing good rhymes with Charlotte, just renamed. (I explain the reasons behind the name in my first post. New link in bio ⭐️). 

I have so much love and affection for my original blog, but feel it's time for a shift into the 2024 way of doing things. (I have also carried several NGRWC posts over with me anyway so it already feels like home). So expect the same vibe, style and story types, just in a new place.

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