It has been a rough night. Too hot and not conducive to sleep. I guess that there will be many people out there that had bad nights last night. It feels a little coler this morning.
I spent the night thinking about many things,as usual. I have been writing some stuff that has been making me look at myself and my past and this has been on my mind a lot lately. Not my past,I think the past is always with you in some form though you dont think of it untill something jogs a memory.
I married at eighteen. I had no other way of getting away from the Male Parent and the place I was brought up. Shy and retiring,wouldn`t say boo to a goose. What other options are there? Desperate enough to do almost anything by this time,I beleived that marriage would give me a freedom I had never had,a place in the world where I belonged. But it was more a case out out of the frying pan into the fire.
We were just kids. As mature as I was,as grown up as I had always beleived myself to be,I was still just a kid. I knew about house keeping after all I had been doing it long enough. But there is more to marriage than knowing how to manage money,and knowing how to cook and clean. G was a mummys boy. Considering the size of the family he came from it was something of a shock to realise that he didn`t breath without asking mummy or big sister first. mummy was the mother-in-law that the jokes are made of,but she was ok really. I guess it was hard for her seeing her spoilt little boy becoming a husband and soon to be father. But in her defense she did look after me when I was really ill through my pregnancy and she is the reason that both my baby and me managed to get to the end of the pregnancy.
I was very ill. At this time we were living with his parents ( not a good way to start a marriage believe me ) and I was getting sicker and sicker. I couldn`t eat,everytime I tried I threw up. And it was way past morning sickness time. Then one day I collapsed,on my way up the stairs to have a rest as ordered by mother-in-law and when I got to the top I collapsed. I dont remember much following that. Four days apparently,I laid in bed and was nursed by G`s mam. It turned out that my alcoholic GP had given me penicillin,which I am allergic to,instead of iron tablets. And I like a good girl had been taking one a day,no matter how bad I felt I had faithfully taken these pills because they would help the baby. Only they had nearly killed both of us. G`s mam had called her GP out and he had personally gone to my surgery and got my notes and discovered the problem.
They gave me something to combat the problem and within a few weeks I was feeling a lot better and starting to actually look like I was pregnant. I was seven months gone and looked like I was three.
When my baby was born she was small weighing only 4lbs 14ozs,but she was perfect,strong and healthy,a fighter just like her mam. And when finally I was able to hold her I looked down into that little face and I knew that this was what I had been looking for. I dont mean all that stuff about mother and child bonding. I mean knowing that here was a little person,an individual,unique in every way,as we all are. This little human that I could love unconditionally and give all that I had locked up inside. Here I had been given a unique gift. And I treasured it.
I have never looked on any of my children as being mine,in the sense that they belong to me. But as gifts that are lent to me to nurture and raise in the best way I can. Once my job is done they go off in to the big world to do their own thing. And thats how it should be. As they got older and didn`t need me as much I turned my mind to doing the things that I had always wanted to do. Circumstances,lack of money etc have stopped me doing them before. But now I have discovered a whole new world,well not right now as I discovered it a long while ago,but am still exploring it,ther is still so much to discover.
