A long time coming

(Ahem, look what has been sitting in my drafts folder since I am not sure when.)


Well, it's been a few years since the last post. I had this idea that writing it all down would help. But it didn't. In fact, things continued to get worse. I was worse. And I wasn't showing any signs of re-emerging from the depths and despair I experienced. I don't know exactly how I came to know that I had been suffering most, not from the shock of motherhood, but from my entanglement from an extremely toxic relationship; intimacy with darkness.

I have learned a lot since then. Mostly though, of late, I have tasted small licks of joy in the connectedness I have with my sons without fear of intimidation, manipulation and emotional abuse. I like it. So, I'm not going back.

To leave a relationship with the father of my children may seem commonplace to many, but feels like my heart is breaking daily. I'm sad that the vision we had was only mine. I'm sad that the hope is gone. I'm sad that my boys won't know what I wanted for them most of all.... to be in a loving relationship with their dad and to model healthy happy partners.

But, it takes two to make four and once there were four there just wasn't enough to go around. There's no going back, when there are four, there are four. Until there are just three waiting around on a Saturday morning to see if dad will turn up. And then there will be two acting out anxieties they don't understand and there will be one, me, paining from old hurts and picking off the scabs of new ones.

I can see it from all four angles and its not pretty any way you look at it. It's a giant box of sadness. Daddy and mummy can't live together my darlings, not anymore. I am sorry for your loss dear ones, it's my loss too. And daddy's.

It's been a long time coming. The End.

We're back (in London, for like, years..)

So, let's see where I left off. Oh yeah, it was like 5 years ago. I was in Brighton. I had a newborn and a toddler. I was tandem breastfeeding... And then I just disappeared. Writing stopped.

In retrospect, I wonder if I stopped writing because I couldn't commit the life I was living to paper?

I want to fast forward. I don't want to tell the story of Shaun or the story of becoming a single parent. I don't want to relive those memories or hash out those unresolved feelings. Not yet. I just want to jump back in. Pick up from where I left off and maybe even feel, just a teeny bit like myself again. If you know me, you'll read this and nod your head. You'll know that I have had some rough times, but that things are getting better.

Sebastian is now 7 and Charlie is 5. My kids go to school. I teach three yoga classes a week to elderly people. I am a school run mum. I'm renting a two bedroom flat in SE London and I am completely grateful to our circle of friends and the families of children my sons go to school with. We feel part of a community and its wonderful.

We have just finished Easter break and it's time to go back to school. I can't say I am looking forward to it. There was a time when I counted the days before they went back to school/ nursery; I desperately needed a break! As we move forward in our lives together, the boys are growing up, our bond is tighter than ever and we have recovered so much from the dark years. I actually enjoy our moments together so much more.

I have a few health concerns, but nothing too serious. I have a multi-nodule goitre on my thyroid. I believe I am also entering the menopause. I started putting on weight a few years ago, so I am wondering if it's all linked up? I don't practice a whole lot of yoga to my dismay. I do walk a fair amount. I have routines set for my kids, but not many for myself. I think 2017 should be my year of self care. I have been to an Ayurvedic doctor and also a kinesiologist recently to try and balance my hormones and potentially reduce or completely rid myself of health concerns! Watch this space.

I'd like to do some more writing again. That's why I am starting here. I don't feel as though I have anything of major urgency to share, but I do feel like I want to.

I leave you with a picture of Seb and Charlie, wearing towels as capes, transporting the laundry via skateboard from the house to the garden shed (where the dryer is located).

TTFN xxx

Capture The Colour

Travel Supermarket are holding a blogging competition, and to enter I need to post pictures featuring the colours Red, Blue, Yellow, Green and White and tag five other bloggers. Jo at Holly Blog tagged me, so here goes…

RED: Sebastian, not only is he driving the red train and wearing a red shirt, but he has a big red lip after his big accident on a rocking horse in Gabriel's Wharf. What a trooper!

BLUE: I love this picture of Sebastian - he is so adorable in blue. It's his favourite colour. It's mine too.

YELLOW: fields at Seven Sisters on a very cold day in December 2011. With daddy.

GREEN: Our old secret garden was the greenest place we knew...

WHITE: Our newborn, Charlie. Welcome to the world little fella.

Steiner kids?

Seb started preschool in April, just one morning a week. It started fine, but after the Easter break it was awful. He kicked and screamed and protested on his way to St Nicks. He seemed intimidated by the slightly older kids in his class and could tell me no ones name. I felt so bad for him. He really tried to join in with groups of kids that he didn't know - but they often ignored him. I used to spy on him, watch him play alone or worse awkwardly introduce himself ("I'm Bastian!") to a kid who didn't want to know. 

At the end of May I enrolled us into the Parent & Child group at the Steiner school in Brighton. Within two weekly sessions, my son, the outsider, was part of a group. He was playing with others gracefully and following the rhythm of our class as if he thoroughly enjoyed it. I'm not talking about having a good time because he got a new Buzz Lightyear, I mean, he was joining in the circle of mums and toddlers holding hands, singing; washing hands, making bread. My son was a blissed out toddler - and a joy to be around. 

I'm thinking, this is it, Steiner is my new yoga. Because it helps me too. The calm and harmonious atmosphere guides me and my mothering. I meet women I like who have the same goals and need want the same kind of peace at home. I feel at home.

Of course, Seb is enrolled into Saltdean Preschool and I need the time off from two, so I decide to keep him in school two mornings a week until the end of term (which is next week). Two things happen to shake up the apple cart. 1) I am given a letter from the school requesting that I come to an AGM for parents (the preschool is a charity, run by a committee of parents). I turn up for the meeting late and within an hour I have been elected the new Chair person for the school. 2) Seb plays with kids in the park from his class - he is joyous; teachers at his preschool tell me how he's turned a corner and has really integrated himself into the group; I meet two mums (on the committee) that I like. Oh dear.

I'm wavering. 

Because everything in life is connected. It feels like being a mother is the most important job in the world. The decisions I make now for my children will impact them forever. I want what's best. 

I have to choose..... 

Eating for three

I don't really follow recipes. So, having children and winging dinner is an art I am learning. Actually, parenting is a lot like preparing meals. But let's not go off on that tangent just now.

As I am exclusively breastfeeding a newborn and extended breastfeeding a toddler, I eat a lot. Charles has an intolerance to milk so I am effectively a vegan. Only I still wear leather and eat honey.

My friend Jo came over recently and commented on the food I made and suggested that I blog about it. I thought it over and didn't really see anything spectacular about my easy peasy dishes - until tonight. My son Sebastian hadn't eaten all day and I had limited time to prepare him something delicious and nutritious. I failed, he fell asleep on the sofa before he had his dinner. BUT the dinner I made was yummy and with babes in bed curled up together, I have time to write about it.

It was simple:
two carrots, peeled and chopped into small chunks
one courgette, sliced and halved
half a bunch of asparagus, 1/2 inch strips
half a red pepper, rough chopped
two handfuls of nuts, walnut pieces, pecans and almonds
generous drizzle of almond oil
chuck it all in a glass pan, roast in the oven on 220 until carrots are firm, but not crunchy
noodles, cooked and seasoned with a generous splash of dark soy sauce
mix and eat.

Tandem Feeding

I am not sure if I felt a strong desire to tandem feed or if I prepared myself for the role simply because I was too lazy to wean Sebastian from my breast. Throughout my pregnancy with sensitive sore nipples I often wished and hoped that he would be one of those children who stopped on his own when the milk went. Indeed there were moments of frustration, but Seb carried on dry nursing. I had a feeling he wasn't going to stop. But in my mind I had figured that he would only feed to bed and to wake up - even when the baby arrived. Instead what has happened is that Seb wants to feed whenever Charlie feeds. And being a newborn, Charlie feeds a lot! "Wait for me to get on!" says Seb every time he catches me feeding his tiny brother. I say "not now, sweetie, my boobie is sore" which it is. Incredibly sore. My toddler has a powerful suck. It often drives me to temporary insanity. I have some evil thoughts when the pain becomes intense. I then berate myself for having such a wicked soul that my mind could even come up with such meanness. It's a tough road. So was the alternative. I'm still undecided about breastfeeding. I love the ease of it, the simple preparation. I like the way my toddler looks at me when he feeds. I like watching my newborn grow from my milk. Having him weighed and the health visitors response "he's doing wonderfully!" with such sincerity makes my heart leap. I love that my breast can sort just about any woe either of my sons have and that comforting them will help them grow independent. I have bad days/ nights too. Sleep deprived? My body feels like it's falling apart, wrist pain, hip pain, sore eyes and shoulders. I feel heavy. I could sleep and need to sleep, for days. I'm hungry. I'm thirsty. I often forget to eat or drink. I need supplements. I forget to take those too. I shop online with good intentions and end up eating another slice of toast while my curly kale and spinach pass expiry. I have stopped eating dairy, which means I'm living on a vegan diet, responsible for the nutrition of a newborn, a toddler who has pretty much stopped eating regular meals, and myself. Seb's teeth have not been brushed properly in days, possibly weeks. My teeth have not been properly brushed... My toddler has had a cold for nearly two weeks (since starting pre-school one morning a week, we've had this!) he has now given it to his baby bro. So, I'm dead tired but awake through the night listening for awkward breathing, feeding babies on a relay - taking the pain that comes with latch, unlatch, latch etc of a babe feeding with a blocked nose. Is it really such a privilege to be able to breastfeed?

birth day

On 3/3/12, Charlie was born at home, without intervention, drugs or drama. It was the birth I had hoped for and I feel truly blessed to have had it. It's easy to say now that it was a wonderful experience because the pain is that far away, but let me tell you, it was painful. It was so painful I definitely am finished having babies. But, then, at the age f 42, I was finished anyway.

My mother (whom I am eternally grateful to for cleaning my house and feeding us for three whole weeks) travelled to London from California a week before my due date. In retrospect this was probably a good move. She had some quality time with her grandson number 1 before the big event and the new life that changed the rest of ours forever. Shaun had several projects due in the week of Charlie's birth and so this time was extra stressful for him, and so having my mom here to "cover" for him was tremendously helpful. Oh, and Shaun was around too. 

We worried that Charlie who was due on the 29th February, would be late. I wasn't looking forward to being induced or having a hospital birth or without my mother here to be part of the experience. Thankfully, after a long walk to Rottingdean with my mom, Sebastian and  Mimi, my neighbour/ landlady around 4pm on Friday the 2nd March, I began having contractions at 6pm when Shaun arrived home from Uni for the weekend. Around 8pm we called a midwife and just wanted to get our name "on the board". Karrie came at 9pm to check my progress and told us that we weren't ready to have a baby, but that I should carry on relaxing at home and listening to my Hypnobirthing CD. 

In January, I had met a woman called Maya Zack, a Hypnobirthing and Sedona Method expert. We connected through a website called SkillSwap. I had hoped to trade yoga for a haircut, but ended up finding Maya. She was very key to my positive birth experience this time around. As the days got close to my mom & Charlie's arrival I had been feeling very anxious and quite frankly, scared. Maya not only gave me some great hypnobirthing techniques but she shared stories of ecstatic births and practiced the Sedona Method with me (a method of releasing... fear, anger - whatever ails you!) and helped restore some of the confidence I had lost when giving birth to Sebastian in 2009. (No one ever tells you how much confidence a woman loses when she becomes a mother for the first time.)

I continued having contractions at a steady rate for hours after Karrie left our house. My mom had pulled out the sofa bed and the plan was to put Seb to sleep there and then she would get in with him, so between 8-9pm (just before Karrie arrived) I was breast feeding Seb to sleep in the front room, while having contractions. 

Karrie was very calm and brought a peacefulness with her that made me feel very comfortable. I slightly worried that if she left (which she did) that another midwife would come back later, but no time for thinking - contractions were coming much faster and more intensely than before. My mom and Seb were sleeping. Shaun laid down next to me on the bed and promptly fell asleep. I timed my own contractions using an app on my iPhone. When there were 3 mins apart consistently, I woke Shaun and told him to call the midwife. He stumbled about until he found the house phone to call and made the call. Karrie arrived at 1am and checked me again. She said that I was only 4 centimeters dilated. The plan was that if my waters had not gone by 5.30 am, Karrie would offer to break them for me. I was just so relieved when she said that she would be staying with me and not going back to the hospital. She set up her equipment and paperwork, utilizing the spotlight Shaun had borrowed from Uni and Shaun went and made the teas. 

Around 3am when my labour was in full swing, my darling son Sebastian awoke in an unfamiliar bed with an unfamiliar mother that was not his! He screamed and screamed. Nana nor Daddy could calm my boy and so Seb joined me in bed with active labour. I held him and breastfed him while contracting and groaning. It was easier than listening to his screams, believe me. He eventually calmed down and went to read with Daddy and Karrie and Nana. 

At 5.15 am the pain was tremendous and I was begging or it all to be over. Karrie did another examination and as she did, my water came away naturally. She suggested I change position for delivery and so I turned from my side to my knees on my bed. I had prepared the bed with a plastic shower curtain from Asda (£1.98) laid beneath the sheets to protect the mattress. Karrie removed the duvet from the bed and asked Shaun to get the towels ready. Each contraction now was excruciating. I did not feel I could survive such intensity. I kept breathing and listening to the CD of positive affirmations in the background on a loop. I eventually had thoughts of strangling the soft lady voice delivering the message. I carried on breathing and riding the waves of pain that overtook my body. Sebastian and Shaun were sitting at the foot of my bed watching The Snowman. My mother was pacing back and forth between my room and the rest of the house. Karrie informed me that she could now see Charlie's head, that he was on his way, but that I needed to relax and wait for the next contraction. My groaning had turned to yelling. "Get him out!" as I rode the penultimate wave. A few moments later with a gush, out came my darling son, Charles. The umbilical cord was loosely double wrapped around his neck; Karrie carefully unwound them and wrapped Charlie in a towel and placed him on the pillow next to me. My body shook and shivered. I was relieved but also very untouchable. Karrie took a photo of me and my family. She then made a path out of spare shower curtains from the bed to the bath. I carefully tiptoed with bloody legs and feet to a tub of warm water. I let four full baths run away before I could see through the water. It was gory. When I left the bathroom, cleaned an warmly dressed, I saw my mom asleep in Seb's room, Seb asleep in my room and Shaun and Charlie asleep on the sofabed. 

It was a beautiful sunny day although we didn't leave the house. We stayed home for four days before introducing Charlie to the world. We were visited by excellent midwives daily and I later learned that our midwife Karrie was one of the top midwives at Royal County of Sussex - I was very lucky to have had her. The care and treatment I have received in Brighton has been nothing short of impressive: from health care and the wider community, we are so happy to be here!

Due date is 1 month from now!

It's a whole month away - but checking my iPregnancy app for iPhone I see that I am 8 3/4 months along. So bun in the oven for 10 months, really... Such a long time. My friend Katherine said during her first pregnancy that one really needs 9 months to prepare. I think I agree with that.

My son, Seb, is going through a bit of a rough patch. His sleep at night has gone haywire. He definitely understands that mummy's tummy is big because Charlie is growing inside. He protests when I gently tell him that soon Charlie will share my bosom with him. He also offers up my breasts to his toys: Winnie, Mickey, baby, T Rex, various trucks and cars. I do wonder what's going on inside his mind sometimes. Seb hasn't gone to bed before 10pm since Xmas break. He wakes at 7.30 and is exhausted by 11. He goes to sleep for two or three hours, wakes up in a great mood and refuses to sleep from 7.30-10 or 11... Making our evenings very stressful. Seb also has been hitting me hard and a lot.

I wonder if he senses change coming or if there is something totally normal and developmental going on?

Tonight I had to leave the room and take several deep breaths before I could deal with upset over bedtime. We got there in the end, but it still 10pm and we had aimed for 8-8.30.

Daily life

Shaun and I have been working on a new schedule for the week. It's been two months since we moved to Brighton and we've been experiencing the transition as much as Seb has. When we first arrived, Shaun was still working out his last week in London. Seb was in a new house which he clearly loved, but daddy wasn't here which he seemed to not like so much going on his reaction when Shaun finally did finish work. Those first few nights when Shaun would leave Seb and I to sleep in his room at University were met with screaming and tears. We decided that we should perhaps make evenings (dinner/bath/bed) a priority. So the routine is that Shaun arrives about 5pm, stays until Seb goes to sleep or a bit later, usually leaving around 8pm. Then Shaun spends the entire weekend with us. But as Shaun's coursework becomes more intensive, and those return trips on the bus are a huge waste of time, we are looking at longer weekends and less home in the evening time. I think Seb will be OK with it. It's a hard balance, but as I said to a new friend, it's not that much different to a traditional couple who's daddy works long hours, sometimes returning home after bedtime. The only difference it the middle of the night wakings. Seb has a rotten cold at the moment, he wakes from coughing or not being able to breathe easily. So, he comes in to bed with me. If he wakes up too much, he starts wondering where daddy is. I say daddy is at school, but what does that mean when daddy is here sometimes and not others?

Lemonade

It was three years ago today that I experienced one of the most devastating events a woman can: miscarriage. I was 39 years old and it was my first pregnancy. It was a miracle. I had lost hope that I was even able to get pregnant, and there it was - the words PREGNANT on a Clear Blue test. At 9 weeks - considered an early miscarriage - I had gone through two months of morning sickness and feeling awful. What an insult to suddenly find myself at St Thomas' ultrasound department with the sonographer saying that she couldn't find a heartbeat and that maybe it was too early - I should come back the next day. I went home discouraged and knew that it was over. I called my mom and she told me I was being negative. I told a few friends and they said, it might not be over, these things happen. No one wanted this to be the end. But, by Monday night I was doubled over in pain losing tons of blood. Shaun had been on the phone with the hospital and eventually an ambulance arrived. I was given gas and air to cope with the pain. Wheeled into an empty ward with a lovely midwife who made both Shaun and I feel very comfortable. The care that night was perfect. I was kept in overnight until I could be scanned to make sure everything was gone by the next day. The hospital was cold and felt even more so now that it was just me and Shaun. Our love had made a baby, and the baby died. My future had gone along with my hope. Shaun made a few phone calls throughout the day covering my classes and letting people know. He eventually left the hospital and went to tell his parents who had not known that I was pregnant at all. This was a whole other story! In the afternoon I was released and I traveled home alone by taxi. Shaun was at my flat when I arrived home. Nothing but sadness and emptiness for weeks that followed. The emotional nosedive was bigger than anything I had ever experienced. I cried and typed and cried and typed for days. It was a long process, and in retrospect, I don't think I fully recovered for a long long time after.

Today, however, the anniversary of that dark day, I am grateful for my son who was born just under a year later. I am grateful to Shaun for sticking by me and to my body for (so far!)  holding two pregnancies. I don't feel so sad anymore. If that little babe had been born on the 21st June 2009 as expected, I wouldn't know Sebastian or be anxiously awaiting the arrival of his brother Charlie.

First post

I'm called dreamymummy because I used to have a little independent record label called Dreamy Records. I spent my early 20s devoted to indie music and eventually started my own company so I could release records I liked. The label lasted from 1998 - 2005. It was a labour of love and I became known in small indie circles as Dreamy Tracy.

After my years in the heartbreaking music industry, I made a smooth transition into teaching yoga. Dreamy Yoga never really worked.... The name I was given in India was a Sanskrit word meaning "the female aspect of om". A swami of Eupropean descent flippantly referred to me as Miss Universe. Well, that's cute and all, but the domain name was already registered, so I became just yogamiss. Ten years of teaching and nearly 15 years of personal practice later, I am mother to Sebastian and pregnant with another little boy.

I have a few email addresses. yogamiss, yogamum, dreamytracy. I am all of these. Ultimately, for now, I am dreamymummy. I had to be really. Yoga is the union of all things or the yoking of realities. Becoming a mother, although there is an element of illusion that mothers are all seeing all knowing all all all, my experience is that motherhood is total chaos. I am definintely not united in my mind body and spirit on a regular basis. It does happen occasionally. There are perfect moments when everything feels so right and I've managed to do my duty remaining calm and in flow, but its rare. I dream of becoming that mummy sometimes.

I've started a blog.

Who on earth would want to read about my crazy adventures?

Let me re-phrase that.

Who on earth would I want to share my personal point of view with?

I don't know.

I guess the idea that I might eventually write something vaguely worth reading is some inspiration. At the moment, I barely have time to paint my toenails once a month let alone write a blog. That's motherhood for you.