Life. Long Hair. Crisps For Dinner.

At the start of this year I was determined to be a healthier person and I think I've come close to getting there when I think of the opposition this year has also thrown at me. I've battled with countless inner wars about the way I look, the way I speak, things I do (or do not do) and just generally fitting into too many moulds that made me unhappy. 

So what does 'healthier' mean, exactly? Does it mean allowing your child to eat prawn cocktail crisps as part of a meal? Um well sometimes it happens. I think healthier means 'letting go.' Letting go of ideas of what perfect means and letting go of bad thoughts, habits and patterns of thinking. This includes being negative about my body around my child. I'm selective about the kind of language I use around him. He's a child, he doesn't see 'ugly', he doesn't see 'tired', he doesn't see 'fat thighs, bum, hips...' and so on. He only sees what we teach him to see right now. 

There are particular sore points of my body I'm sensitive on but since having my child I've lost (and am losing) my hang ups. Why? Because his future is more important than my present choices - if I think one part of me is bigger than it should be, why wouldn't I do something about it? Yes I'm still sensitive to remarks and comments that revolve around my body, any woman's body, because the way the world is set up to view women's bodies is ridiculous and I don't want a part in being a negative voice to back all of this nonsense up...but I'm less hung up on it. The comments don't hurt so much because I see they are mostly untrue, unfounded, unwelcome and quite frankly; so what? If I'm happy with the progress I've made and I'm making, that's all that matters.

With all of this in mind I asked Bryan to take our photo - a photo to cherish and remember, a photo that will be printed and put into a photo book of memories and no doubt viewed by a lot of people. A photo that I hope, in time, will be one I look fondly back on and treasure for the time we spent together, for the love we felt for each other and for the two people in the photo who don't judge each one another on how they look. A photo, the first of many I hope, that I didn't judge myself on.

Hats On.

These pair have a set of (almost) matching hats. Roman's hat is far snazzier, of course, because he's two and that's allowed ;). We were almost out of the door tonight, to go to a church class, when I snapped a few photos for my 366 Project...oh the times I almost forget to take a photo! I'm so glad I got this snap shot of time - where Roman is this small and Bryan towers over him. I'm so sure that give or take a few years down the line that Roman will definitely catch up with Bryan on the height ;).

Two Aunts.

Roman with two of his aunts, on a Tuesday night unlike others. Nothing spectacular happened today, but it was wonderful because it was spent with them.

Ungle Fraser.

Roman's 'ungle' Fraser is here. Every time we ask Roman where his uncle is, he pinches his nose (my brother was biten on the nose by my parents dog, Shadow) and laughs. And when I tried to give Roman a cuddle this morning? "Want ungle Fraser!" he said and then not long after darted off to the living room to avoid being cuddled by me.

Boots.

My aunt, Roman's great aunt, visited us for two days and went home yesterday. She spoils us with her time and generosity. She bought Roman the loveliest pair of rain boots (much needed in Scotland) with his favourite things, dinosaurs, on them. He loves his boots and has perfected slipping them on and off very expertly. As soon as he was dressed today he slipped these back on, after running about with a nappy and his boots on in the morning, and kept telling us he wanted to go outside.

He was very happy to be outside, with his boots on. And then to top it all off the sun was out and a train rode past when we were in the garden. 

Roman waving bye bye to the train as it passed.

Joy.

98/366

Fresh from a bath, his skin very supple and smelling divine, it's hard not to want to eat him all up - and my aunt did just that.

And my greatest happiness is his happiness, the sound of his laughter and the joy that he gets from the simple things.

A Day of Love: Valentines Day 2012.

45/366

Valentines Day is something that has always been dear to our little hearts - we celebrate our wedding anniversary close to Valentines Day and it's Roman's birthday a few days before.

My present (a 35mm lens! Yay!) arrived today and right away I fixed it onto my camera and snapped away ;). I love my family; my two boys and the fact that my mum is here, too. It wasn't a day full of fireworks but it was a day like most others; two lovely boys and me together.

It's nice to have a day (or more) of the year set aside for love - not just married people or people in a relationship love but a chance to think about what love is, how it changes you and how it gives you so much room to grow.

Part Four of the 'Vegan Series': A Lifestyle.

Thanks for checking in with us here at Chasing Roman and welcome to the Vegan Series, Part Four: A Lifestyle.


If you'd like to read parts one, two and three then just click on the 'vegan' tag at the bottom of this post and press 'older posts' to read back. They're filled with facts, fun and food!


So, without further ado, I want to say that for me being vegan is more than just what I eat. It's a lifestyle for the rest of my life. I can't imagine putting meat or animal products into my body ever again. Why? Well, to make it really simple and easy to read, I made a list.


1. I don't want to eat those things. It might sound simple, but it's anything but simple. It would just be so easy to eat meat. Or it would be in terms of things to buy and places to eat out, when it comes to cooking being vegan is far easier. Also, for me, being vegan tastes better. I can taste my food. 


2. Roman is watching everything I do. If we're both unhealthy and eating poorly, it would be no surprise if he became an adult who ate poorly and became unhealthy, too. More often than not, this happens. For me it was easier to be unhealthy when I ate dairy and meat. There was more choice, so more junk foods to eat. Now obviously you can get vegan junk foods, but the options are smaller. 


The options are even smaller when you decide you're not going to buy those things and bring them into the home (which has been our choice) and when you're not too crazy about 'treats' for the kids and allow them some freedom of choice, then they will make smart decisions. My choice is to eliminate 'junk' foods for myself, from my home and my body, except on odd occasions (at which point I can only eat so much.) 


So, do you have to be vegan to do this? Absolutely not. Everyone and anyone can do this. I just choose to be vegan because it gives me a better chance of success at eating well. 


3. Animal cruelty. I know that most human beings are compassionate beings. I know that we don't want to do harm to other beings and I also know that the majority of people I know would say if they had to kill their meat, they wouldn't eat it. For me it's a matter of survival. If I had to eat meat to survive, I would do it, but hopefully I won't find myself in that position.  


As it stands we have the luxury to choose. To choose what goes on our plates and into our bellies and I choose veganism. You might not be ready or even desire to choose that, but I know you can make a better choice for you, your family and those generations waiting in the wings of our futures - and our children's futures. 


And, unfortunately so, animal cruelty seems to be abound in the farming practices with factory farming. 





Our social behaviour towards food seems to be more positive, but more needs to happen so that we're guaranteed and geared up for completely cruelty free food - because, let's face it, veganism isn't the desire of everyone. But having animals free of infections, pumped full of hormones and not being cramped into tiny spaces is probably a greater desire and a goal that's realistic.


4. Being vegan is who I am. It's a huge part of me. For 6 years now I have followed this lifestyle and it's a part of my whole life. When I decided to follow a vegan lifestyle I made that choice seeing how it felt for me. I didn't plan long term because I'm not good at sticking to goals. 6 years later here I am, saying it's a part of me and that I wouldn't swap that. Why should I? It works and makes sense for me. I feel more at home with myself, more at peace. Why would I take that security away?


5. My family is vegan. And with that, there is a massive support. Before I married, it was just me. At the start of my veganism I felt I had something to prove but the truth is that I don't have anything to prove, I can be an example just by the way I live my life, I don't need to shout my beliefs from the rooftop. 


With my family being vegan I would find it selfish to suddenly change the dynamics of that - sure, if I wanted to, I could eat meat. But I don't want to and I don't see the point of everyone eating three separate meals. What a waste of money, time and energy we can spend together rather than cooking, cleaning and preparing just so we can eat. Being vegan means less time is spent in the kitchen and more time enjoying, tasting and appreciating our mostly made from scratch meals. I notice a huge difference in the taste of most food if it's cooked from a packet versus cooked from fresh, tasty and wholesome ingredients.


Of course, every family can have that, you do not need to be vegan, but this is what works for us. I just know if one of us was to suddenly start eating meat and dairy that it would spell disaster because we've only ever lived as two, and now three, vegans under one roof. And I've lived in mixed meat eating and vegan households. It's definitely easier to live as a group, in unity and harmony than to divert from what works.


In short, being vegan is more than what I eat. It's about every part of my lifestyle, it has an effect on nearly every part of my life because I am conscious of the effects and how different things would be without this lifestyle. I was always a deep thinker and a little girl who asked a lot of questions.


I grew into an adult who thought so hard and deep about her food choices. I grew into an adult who was not comfortable about eating meat and then became increasingly disturbed by the dairy industry and it's processes. And now my choices fit perfectly into my life.


I am careful but not religious about finding vegan make-up and other cosmetics, but it's not always practical or financially possible. I plan on changing that in 2012 and working a bit harder on that part of my life as it's something I can only try, just as I tried to become vegan in 2006 and was successful. 


As for clothes and other things I have around my home: I am always careful to choose vegan clothes. After all, these materials are going against my skin and I'd rather not feel the hide of a cow or sheep up against my skin. 


If I'm choosing not to eat meat, I need to choose not to wear dead animals against my skin and it's something I haven't struggled with as clothes aren't ridiculously priced - if you're going to shop on vegan designer websites then yes, they may well be expensive, but I just as easily buy from the shops I bought from before. I don't buy Uggs and it's no loss to me. 


Tune in next time for a totally different Vegan Series.


Follow: @MamaChaser 
Email: carakirk@hotmail.com

Baby Proofing.

Before I begin let me just post this picture and draw on it's comparisons:

TWINS! 25 years apart. And well, not really twins as I'm his mother and he's my son...but you get the jist of it ;).

So... the other day B  'baby proofed' the living room. I was asleep at the time this happened because I was still recovering from the time he was sick - when he gets sick, I follow suit, but not because I contract whatever he has...my body can't cope with the sheer amount of energy that is required in looking after a toddler and a home full time. Yes, I'm aware many people do this parenting gig on their own and full time but I am also full time sick. And as such, that's my life and my set up. My body is like an elastic band - push it too far and it will break. 


Back to this baby proofing deal. Now, usually I'm sure a lot of people would be over joyed their spouse had been so ingenious as to baby proof their home. In fact they'd probably be downright shocked and/or impressed. 


Me? I'm a little startled by Bryan's methods.


Our problem is that Roman has a little problem with ownership - he thinks everything is his to destroy or throw to the floor to watch what happens to it. This really bugs me, even though I never let it show (first rule of parenting: don't show your kids your weak spots as they'll only exploit them at a later date.) So baby/toddler proofing was the next sensible and ultimately inevitable step...


For me I prepared by buying corner protectors and imaging things being in little neat boxes; tidy and organised, the opposite of my husband who works in a more haphazard fashion. I also have to tell you that this is the man who at 22 said we could "just keep the baby in the bath and throw a towel over them and then scoot them down when they pee or poo." This was his solution to not buying nappies - even though he is a disposable nappy advocate these days and I am very much a cloth advocate. 


So imagine, if you will, what his baby proofing might consist of and try to picture this scene:


I come into the living room and the insides of the book shelf have disappeared. 


No books, no blooming shelves. Nothing. 


Our bookshelf has been gutted. 


Okay, let's move on...this might get better. I also notice that everything that was under the coffee table is no longer there. I begin to panic. What's he done with it all? I notice that a suit case is blocking the entrance to one side of our corner unit sofa - Roman loves to go behind there and cause mischief. I look behind the suitcase and what do I see?


The contents of the bookshelf and coffee table. All lumped into one pile, looks like it's just been thrown into a heap. 


On the other end of the corner unit is a punch bag blocking that entrance. Roman runs up to, huffing and puffing and proceeds to smash his tiny fists on it as though he's attacking someone.


Bryan, what have you been teaching him while I sleep?

The 'guts' of the bookshelf have never been returned, they just lie dormant  in that same heap. And the shelves? They were completely out of view, tucked away nicely in Bryan's gym equipment cupboard.


Oh well...at least if they're out of sight, they're out of mind - right?


So I ask you, Ms/Mrs/Mr Reader: Do I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder or am I completely justified to feel trapped under the chaos?

We Are Family: A Tale of Two Sisters.

"I never said it would be easy, only worth it."

This catch phrase used to play over and over and over in my mind as a teen. Basically, what I took from it to mean is that in life there would be trials and that there would be downs, followed by ups. That things would be hard for a while, but that suddenly all the things that seemed hard would have this new and wonderful shine on them and that life would be better, easier and more fun in general.

Don't take it to mean that I was a miserable teen or person - anything but - but I was most certainly not happy with where I had got myself; not anywhere bad or off track, just confused about who I was, like every other teen I knew at the time.

My sister, the one pictured here in the photo above, was the only one I thought had it down. She'd had some problems I was aware of, but those aside, I had seen her come right through them and get through high school and achieve her long term dream of studying Psychology. 

Life has worked out very differently for us both; me the confused teen who stumbled through most days and her the cool and confident (in my mind) one. But I like to think this is exactly where we both should be; improving ourselves, our lives and getting better at working at our relationship.

When we grew up we had so many laughs. It makes me terrified to know what mischief two teenagers can really get into (don't worry, nothing too extreme, just cheeky. Or that's the version of events we're sticking too.) I also believed my sister was this big trendsetter; anything she didn't wear wasn't worth owning. She also did my hair and make-up for my wedding and everyone kept asking which hair dresser I'd gone too. Ha!

Here's her thoughts on yours truly (in her own words, I promise I didn't doctor any of it ;):

From a very young age I fully realized how important the relationship with my sister would be. We shared a room from the time I was aged 7 and her 4 and a half and although there is 2 and a half years between us I have always felt like the younger sister. She always seemed to be the more logical, more practical, more mature one. Whereas I was more the one to learn a lesson from! The greatest gift she has ever given me, with the exception of my nephew, is our shared memories. Our bond is a strong one strengthened by many things but mostly many a late night filled with giggles and a trip down good old memory lane.

I'll call this set: Thoughtful Little Man Stares out of Window.

We spent the last week of March at my parents in the Scottish Highlands.

I hadn't been there in over a year. Travelling and ME don't mix at all. 

The scenes that you see up there are utterly breath taking. I have been all over the UK and little impresses me until I head up to the North of Scotland.

It truly is stunning.

I love being there with Roman because my parents have carpets. This is an exciting prospect when you come from a home without carpets, when your home has horrible laminate flooring throughout (I hate laminate flooring; it's cold, requires more upkeep, attracts more hair, dirt, dust etc and Roman can't stand up on the floor.) 

I probably sound utterly Bourgeois, but there you have it. 

I slept and ate well.

The normal pressures were gone. 

The slurping noises of B eating or the way he breathes seemed to matter less. 

But nonetheless, the days slipped by too easily and too quickly.

And then we got back on the train home where we were back to our old ways of me not sleeping till 4am, getting 4 hours of sleep (me) and the breathing and eating noises really annoying me.

Happy Mother's Day.

Happy Mother's Day to my Mum.

She's a mother to four children, Granny to three grandchildren and comes from a long line of strong, independent women who can take care of their homes, DIY, stretch a budget, cook for twelve*, entertain and educate children, make clothes, have babies and so much more!

I love my Mum loads. We haven't always been best friends (and you know what Super Nanny thinks of parents as best friends so perhaps it was for the best!) but now we definitely are. I love spending time with her and being in her company. Everyone who meets her likes her - I have yet to meet someone who doesn't.

She's a good Granny and loves to spend time with her grandchildren. She loves them equally and whole heartedly.  She isn't interfering or overpowering.

I know if I mould myself into the sort of Mum she was that I will be doing a good job with raising Roman.

"I grew up confidently expecting to have a profession and earn my own living, and also confidently expecting to be married and have children. It was fifty-fifty with me. I was just as passionately determined to have children as I was to have a career. And my mother was the triumphant answer to all doubts as to the success of this double role. From my earliest memory she had more than half supported the family and yet she was supremely a mother."

- Crystal Eastman. 

Thank you, Crystal Eastman. Thank you for putting into words exactly how I would describe my own Mum, expectations and upbringing.

So a Happy Mother's Day to all the Mama's out there.

And to one of the best Granny's in the World: Thank you for being my Mother's Mother. Without you we wouldn't be here and without you we wouldn't be who we all are. You've created this family from the ground up.

Get Well Soon.

*and this happened on many, many occasions. Especially at Christmas time with missionaries who were far away from their own Mama's.

365: The End of a Photography Era.

I DID IT!

365 days, 365 photographs = complete.

When Roman was a little over 4 weeks old I finally decided I should start a 365 Photography Project with him. The above photo was our starting point.

The idea came from Gregarious Peach a beautiful blog which 'documents delight.' 

I wanted to document my own delight and ended up doing so much more in the process.

(Image: C.Quinn. This is the original photograph and one of my favourite ideas, I decided to re-work this a couple of times.)

I uploaded the photos onto Facebook and under the description put down my days thoughts; any little stories, milestones or whatever else I had swimming in my head at the time. When my only reliable and decent camera died I still continued on. I took photos using my husband's camera phone. It wasn't until a few months later I decided we needed a 'better camera' and purchased our trusty 2004 Canon Powershot - as well as buying Lightroom later on in the year to enhance what the camera could not.

(Image: C.Quinn. My second re-work of the original photo above, totally different perspective.)

I haven't regretted a single day. There were days where I would comment on how crappy things had been that day or I would moan about sleeping patterns being destroyed, breasts hurting or neighbours being butt heads and when I look back now it provides me with a smile on my face and the perspective I need to see that my life is the most crazy/beautiful thing I have been blessed with ever.

(Image: C.Quinn. My third re-work of the original image and probably my favourite.)

I love it.

This Project was something I started as a keepsake for Roman and to keep my Mum and other family members updated on Roman. My Mum came to stay with us for a month - two weeks before and two weeks after he was born - in February and I felt sad she would miss out on his day to day growth. 

I have made some cherished ties with people I never even knew before this 365 Project and rekindled old friendships that time forgot. 

(Image: C.Quinn. I re-worked this second photograph as the 365 Project concluded. If you look very closely you will see B's hands wrapped around Ro's waist.)

I have learned so much - mostly from the King aka Roman himself - about life, about babies, about love, about loss (yep), about marriage, about myself, about cameras, about editing, about photography and about people reaching out in this year.

(Image: C.Quinn. Re-worked from the above image, here is what it looked like eleven months later. Making me teary eyed by sitting by himself on the wall - and still not too happy wearing socks. )

This is for everyone:

Thank you for being one of my cheer leaders. Thank you for being one of my followers, even if you didn't comment - thank you for taking five minutes out of your day to appreciate the work. Thank you for all the comments. Thank you for new and re-kindled friendships. Thank you for all the likes. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you a million times over.

And thank you to all my followers on the blog - and all my readers.

This is for B:

Thank you for taking the photographs, my crap about taking the photographs, inspiring some of the ideas and telling me I couldn't quit just about every single day.

And this, well this is the photograph we ended on:

P.S. I will still be keeping the blog on. After all this was a 'behind the scenes' look into our lives and I've loved writing about that.

Don't miss out!

Leave me a great comment.

Mormon/LDS Bloggers and my thoughts.

I've heard a lot about what Mormon Bloggers are for a while now.

Here are my thoughts on the matter:

We're (we're being LDS/Mormon bloggers) often revered for our "picture perfect lives/out-of-style-magazine homes/our cookies/pies etc."

I don't have a picture perfect life by anyone's standard. And to be honest I don't know anyone - LDS or not - who does. We're (we're/we being humankind) all constantly wishing we could be better than we are - after all if we weren't, would cosmetic surgery be such big business? Would we even bother to keep up with fashion trends or cause trends of our own? 

The truth is this: me and my husband argue. I've blogged about it once. 

Because it was included in the context of the blog that I wanted to achieve, not because I wanted to gripe about how bad I have it. Not because I want to paint him as some monster and not even because I wanted to get off my chest about how much he drives me crazy. 

And what is wrong with griping, of painting husbands as monsters in the relationship and of telling others they drive you barmy? 

Well I just think it's counter-productive. When I have a problem with someone, I take it up with them. I think it would be very premature of me to come and detail our arguments, piece by piece. And really although we say we love the drama that life throws at us - do we really?

I turned to my blog as a bigger way of apologising to him. Of saying; "I can't believe I've turned into the things I thought I'd never become." This is the human condition. It can be over come. This is the goal of everyone - LDS or not. Are we agreed upon that? 

I think it is important to acknowledge that both me and my husband are flawed - but why should this be the focus of my blog? It's my way of keeping record of my thoughts. Not a place to bank self-pity - and yes, you're very entitled to self-pity where it's due (didn't want to open up a can of worms on self-pity there.)

I accept there are abusive LDS/Mormon relationships and would never tell someone to keep quiet about this - and neither would our church. And if you want to read someone's view on recognizing emotional abuse read it here. Because the words are placed better than I could have put them and the explanation is pretty thorough and if you're dealing with this then you shouldn't have to live with it, no way. Or go here, here or here. 

The point is that I try to see the good in everything - and I accept people have short comings. However one of my short comings is also one of my husband's and so sometimes we spark off each other and it results in an argument - but why would anyone want to see that? We don't even like it in each other so I don't understand why a reader would want to read about it.

We were wed in 2009 - I had just turned 23 and he had just turned 22. We hadn't been engaged for long at all. We were each other's best friends. I told him anything, everything and the favour was returned. I knew straight off the bat what I wanted and this is something I had never known in any of the relationships I'd had previously. 

I couldn't have had my baby boy without this man I call B. Yes B is annoying sometimes and yes he grinds my gears sometimes but he also has this amazing calming effect on me. He makes me laugh mid-argument when he purposely comes out with an inappropriate moment joke or just a certain look he will give can send me off into a fit of giggles. He's been through things with me that I haven't been through with anyone else; because I haven't let anyone in that close. I'm comfortable, safe, secure and happy - and most importantly I love my husband.

He believes in me. And he believes me.

He isn't threatened by me simply because I am an intelligent woman, like all these other people I have dated. He doesn't speak to me like I am several I.Q points off brain dead. He doesn't tell me what I can and can't do with my life - it's our life and we share it together. He doesn't make decisions that effect me in any major way without speaking to me - and I give him the same courtesy in return.

We are trying to work hard at following what we preach. We are trying hard at upholding the vows we made in 2009. And we are working on our eternal marriage. 

Why? Because we love each other and because we know it's what makes us truly happy. We could retreat away from our beliefs but we believe that wouldn't bring us the true happiness that is promised to us, that we feel every day. Our son is a result of our choice to be married, our love to one another and another sign of our commitment to life. 

We're happy because there's so much to be happy for. Do we get sad? Yes. Do we feel down sometimes, too? Yes. Do Mormons/LDS people suffer from depression and other mental illness? You better believe it. 

There is no conspiracy here; I'm just blogging about the best because when I think of the arguments, the things we said I can't help but think about the joke he made or suddenly images from our wedding day crop up in my mind; I was very late, he didn't look at me when I walked down the aisle, (as per my instructions because I thought it would make me nervous) the intense feelings of happiness and overwhelming love when it came to saying 'Yes' to marriage and the feeling of nervous energy as it got closer and closer to it being us, on our own, the married couple without the fanfare of the wedding day around us. 

And then I sit and wonder what it will be like on our tenth, twentieth and thirtieth and so on wedding anniversaries - how I will feel and how those feelings will evolve over time. Because I fully expect them too. 

Because even after two years of marriage I wish we could do it all over again; relive all the happiness even if it meant going through all the sadness. 

It would be worth it a million times over.

Don't miss out!

Leave me a great comment.

The 9th of February.

A Year Ago Today.

9/02/10

The 7th of February, 2010 I started to feel the first real signs of labour.

Little gut-wrenching reminders that this round shape inside me was a real living, breathing person. A person that had been determined for months (not that I was counting) to make an appearance on their time schedule with no regards to immature lung development, premature birth and my anxieties towards Caesarean sections.

Luckily my prayers were a little more than answered as by the 7th of February there was still no baby (I was due on the 1st of February.)

When I woke up in the morning I had these intense cramps that made it difficult to talk - or think - but they weren't frequent enough for me to make much a deal out of, so I kept them to myself. Luckily they died down after I ate a huge pineapple to myself - odd as pineapple (but usually in a huge quantity) is an induction to labour.

By 11pm that night on the 7th my mucus plug came loose. I knew labour had started by this point and began to shake - the same feelings I'd had seeing that my pregnancy test was positive. I was scared. It was all real, it was coming to a head at last - but that scared me.

By 10am on the 8th of February labour was established with no intention of stopping. I was coping very well with it so I decided to take a bath instead of waking anyone up. By 11.30am it got more and more intense; I can't describe it to you apart from saying it was intense.

It was the kind of intensity that grips your whole body and doesn't let go until it's done it's job. You have little reprieves here and there but the intensity of it all definitely hits you in waves.

With much comforting, listening to music and trying every birthing position I'd ever seen the thing that worked for me in the end was lying down in bed napping intermittently. I kept my bedroom door open and heard B and my mum chatting softly; about what I don't recall, but their voices and the direction of their conversation soothed me.

At one point I didn't want to be on my own any longer and called B through. I can't remember exactly why or when but I lost it. I lost my positive train of thought and sunk deep into believing it would never end; that I wanted the epidural/I was weak/couldn't go on any more.

Of course I had too; I had another eleven hours of this. I didn't know that at the time and my Mum kept reassuring me it would be all over quickly. "If you've come this far at home, you're not too far now." I believed her and let her words sink into the inner part of me that was being chewed up with negative feelings.

We called the hospital (you don't get assigned a midwife or doctor to phone in the UK, you just call the hospital and speak to whichever midwife is manning the phone and they'll tell you to make your way to the hospital) then phoned up B's parents. Neither B or my Mum drive or own a car so we were relying on them to take us to the hospital - they live a good 30 minutes drive away so it was around 6pm when we were leaving to go to hospital.

I was not looking forward to the drive there; but it was great. I felt nothing of the contractions and when a massive wave of intensity hit me I would squeeze down on B's hand; I turned into a cliché. 

We got to hospital where they discovered a few complications, but I was definitely in labour. At this point I was 4cm dilated - which surprisingly comforted me despite not wanting to know how many cm's dilated I was.

My blood pressure was up very high; the midwife surmised this was because I was anxious about being in hospital but sent me down to the delivery suite to be monitored and set up there.

Very soon it was decided my blood pressure wasn't coming down and an epidural would have to be organised (with my consent.) I agreed to this and shortly after I was biting down into a pillow and crying in the arms of a stranger; being told you can't move when you're contracting is quite a feat.

My mum and B swapped over at some point (stupid hospital policy which allows for only one birth partner in the room at a time) and I napped on and off for the next few hours meanwhile the hormone drip worked through my body.

At about 4am I felt pins and needles in my legs then all of a sudden I felt that intensity again. My midwife told me to breathe through it all again - breathe through it despite an IV in my hand, a haematoma in my other hand, a needle in my spine and a trace monitor around my belly. When the midwife went out the room the student midwife asked me if I'd like to try some nitrous oxide to help me out - at first I wasn't sure because I had wanted an all singing all dancing natural labour with no drugs then I thought to myself; "I need to get through this last hurdle, at least I'll feel him passing through me if I have gas and air."

I sucked in deep and after the first two "puffs" I was laughing my head off. I kept saying to B; "Don't tell the midwives but I am soooo stoned!" they all laughed and I would echo their laughter. The gas and air made my throat very dry so I drank some cold water from a straw.

At 5.40am they told me I would need to come off the gas and air now as I was 10cm dilated - and I kept saying; "A human head is coming out of me!" and "I want to push now." - and it was "time." 30 minutes later we were greeted with Roman; slightly purple, cawing and warm. His weight and warmth amazed me. His size shocked me. I'd birthed a 10lb 1 and a half ounce baby boy.

Bryan announced the sex (what we'd asked for as the midwives have a habit of doing this) and cut the cord. Little memories float in now; the midwives saying; "He's so big, look he's rocking his own crib." and B saying; "He's crying real tears."

He was mine. He was crying. He was self soothing. He was Roman. He was every inch real.

He was everything I'd imagined he'd be and at the same time I had never realised how brilliant he would be until that moment we were side by side; me in my delivery bed high on adrenaline and him swaddled in his cot; staring at me, looking, searching and exploring my features and there I was doing the same. 

We were reunited. 

Twenty four years of being apart and finally I could see him again.

Why had I waited so long? Why hadn't I married sooner? Had him sooner? I know me and B didn't wait around to have children - we just didn't see the point of delaying it - but I couldn't stop thinking; I should have had you sooner than this.

And I began to think to myself; "Thank you Heavenly Father, thank you for letting this precious spirit go so he can be my responsibility. Thank you for this opportunity."

I passed out at some point; I was exhausted and I was given gas and air. I was stitched up without anaesthetic and that was traumatising as I felt every pull on my skin and every stab of the needle. It took them three hours. I thought of my Mum who had been opened up without anaesthetic and sucked down on the gas and air until I passed out.

Another midwife prodded me and said; "does that hurt? You've got a pile!" I screamed and told her if she did that again I'd kick her. Ha. (But she made up for it later when she was lovely helping me getting Roman positioned for a first feed.)

My Mum came through and I felt too tired to deal with people's excitement but I wanted to remember and soak up the moments like that at the same time. She called up my Dad. Again I wanted to hang up but never wanted him to stop talking to me at the same time. I wanted him to be there but I was glad he was in Thurso; I pictured him standing in the living room, with the sun on his skin and him peeking through the blinds at the weather, Shadow weaving through his legs and her tail beating off his ankles.

B and my Mum left, I slept and when I woke I walked to the toilet with the student midwife (who wanted me to use a wheelchair) and I remember that pain of peeing for the first time after a baby has come out of your body. I got back into bed and told them I wanted to feed Roman, we fed and napped again and when we woke we went up to the ward.

A day later we were home and visitors came.

 Life was somehow never the same again but it was something wonderful from that point onwards.

Today

Image: L-R: My sister, Roman, his cake and B's hand.

09/02/11

Today you were one.

You had cake, you had presents and you even had balloons. You were happy and cheeky all day long. Delightful and full of love all day long.

Impressing your guests with the many things you've mastered over the months they've missed.

It amazes me to think you're a one year old.

Happy Birthday Little Man, we love you.