There’s a wall.
I have so many things that I want to say, that need to be said.
But I remain silent. Here anyway.
This website sits empty, abandoned.
And I wonder, really, if anyone would mind if I just left it here.
My own little space of calm, where nothing new is happening.
Where all the beautiful moments from the past 18 months are written and laid out. For all to read.
But mostly for me to remember.
And I am loathe to post anew, for fear that I will forget some of the old.
I don’t know what happened to me.
When Rory was a babe, I inhaled motherhood.
I couldn’t have been happier. I was in my element. Breastfeeding, baby wearing, co-sleeping. Playing, singing, dancing. Walking with her, reading to her, loving her.
She was my world and made me matter.
I’m sure there were bad days. I know there were. But they were so few and far between that my memory of her first year is hazy with sunlight and kisses.
Milky-breathed kisses and naps in the afternoon sunlight.
And when the twins and I came home, my life shifted. Changed.
But it wasn’t bad. My life, despite many challenges and a childhood from a midday women’s channel movie about divorce, has never been bad.
And yet I find myself here now, wishing for the days of sleepy snores and soul-soaring smiles.
It’s taken me until now to really recognise the feeling.
Of not enjoying motherhood.
And somehow, I have to find her again. That mother.
Perhaps a little less naive. Perhaps a little more understanding.
But finding her again, that mother – that woman who could breathe. The woman with a sense of humour.
It’s all important.
And this blog – it sits here, with its words. And reminds me of who I used to be.
And who I want to be again.