Introduction
Let me set the scene for you a little. I am lying in bed listening to D place pans and towels along the window-sill to catch the streams of water coming in through the window surround, from the torrential downpour outside. Moaning I turn to burrow myself in the duvet and wonder to myself how the hell I managed to get here. Despite the fact D has not seen me in my underwear, in full light, in over two years, I decide I desperately need the toilet (the bladder’s not so hot anymore!) and dash upstairs in the hope that he is too busy and too angry to notice me. This was not the wisest move however as the house, of course, as it always is, is absolutely freezing cold. I am now so cold I couldn’t possibly pee and end up sat there for ages trying to relax and encourage it while planning my return to the ‘mattress on the floor’ we call a bed, without D noticing me again. Eventually the deed is done and just in time too as I can no longer feel my extremities. Peering over the banister I see he is back in bed, so I make my return quickly and painlessly to join him, noticing it’s about 4.10am on the way. At least it’s slightly warmer under the ‘double’ duvet I created and I listen to the background noise of the dripping, baby intercom, cat snoring and rain thudding against the window until I either need to pee again or finally fall asleep.
“MAMMY, MAMMY, MAMMY, MAMMY……..” Oh that’s my alarm clock, so I calculate I have about 10 more repetitions before I do actually have to get up and go to retrieve my daughter Alina from the one and only bedroom of the house she is inhabiting, to join us on the mattress on the floor. Once there a battle of weighted odds ensues as both myself and D try to continue to sleep while Alina drinks (spills) her milk and bounces about all over us, shoving books and toys in our faces, chanting “up, up, up” until we finally give in. Let me just clarify the time again at this point, it is 6.40am. As I let out an enormous sigh I cringe at the thought of yet another day of having all the things I do undone, being clambered all over, repeatedly tidying away the multitude of toys and household objects Alina moves about, and reading almost every book she owns with actions and noises; a string of events which are usually collectively topped-off with a screaming fit so bad she struggles to breath, as we try to put her pyjamas on ready for bed again in the evening.
In the counselling course which I am currently taking two analogies have been used to describe the way in which people deal with their lives. These are the spinning plates and the kites, and the idea is somehow learning to use the kites instead of the plates. The spinning plates is basically a way of describing the fact that some people have lots of different areas of their life like spinning plates, and they live trying to keep them all up and spinning, so it is a bit frantic and chaotic; where as the different areas of our lives can be like kites and we can gently pull each area down in turn to deal with it individually and calmly without worrying about everything coming crashing down around you. The first is definitely most applicable to my life at present (I am sure a lot of you will feel in a similar position), but I am working on the kites! And to be honest I reckon that if I did somehow master the kites they would either, tangle up, blow away or come plummeting to earth just as the plates do!
At only 23 a number of key life changing events have already taken place for me, so I think it is only understandable that I feel somewhat swamped by them all. Of course the main experience was that of having a child of my own, which in itself instigates a wealth of emotions that continue to be a constant battle on a daily basis. Suddenly this little person has to become the centre of your world and everything else has to orbit around her, and if something disturbs the balance it all comes crashing down, (or at least it becomes a bumpy ride!) Now I love my daughter, don’t get me wrong, but the two of us spending every moment of every day together is doing neither of us any good. My mother said to me one day recently, ‘it’s because you have a brain Jen, you need to use it’, and I think she is right. At first I thought I had delivered my brain with the placenta when Ali was born, but monotony and mental in-activity was more likely the source of its dormancy and confusion.
The second major aspect of my life is of course my partner D, who is 25 years my senior and a very traditional guy indeed. I do love him to pieces (just incase he’s reading this!), no really I do, but the age gap is rearing its ugly head more so each day and bringing a whole host of new and challenging ‘features’ to our relationship. I know of course that I am so unbelievably lucky because I could not want for a better man in terms of trust, support and sincerity, but, and there always seems to be a but, how shall I put it, we are encountering new issues along the way!
And finally there is the third part of my life, which happens to be a bit of a none -starter at present, which is my career as a midwife. The most important thing to know at the moment is that I forced myself to complete my training (degree) while being a mother to a young baby as I desperately did not want to be a housewife with a numb brain; only to find that the British Health Service has screwed up its finances more than I could ever manage to accomplish (and that is saying something); so much so that although desperately short of midwives it cannot afford to employ them! Bitter is an understatement.
Let me set the scene for you a little. I am lying in bed listening to D place pans and towels along the window-sill to catch the streams of water coming in through the window surround, from the torrential downpour outside. Moaning I turn to burrow myself in the duvet and wonder to myself how the hell I managed to get here. Despite the fact D has not seen me in my underwear, in full light, in over two years, I decide I desperately need the toilet (the bladder’s not so hot anymore!) and dash upstairs in the hope that he is too busy and too angry to notice me. This was not the wisest move however as the house, of course, as it always is, is absolutely freezing cold. I am now so cold I couldn’t possibly pee and end up sat there for ages trying to relax and encourage it while planning my return to the ‘mattress on the floor’ we call a bed, without D noticing me again. Eventually the deed is done and just in time too as I can no longer feel my extremities. Peering over the banister I see he is back in bed, so I make my return quickly and painlessly to join him, noticing it’s about 4.10am on the way. At least it’s slightly warmer under the ‘double’ duvet I created and I listen to the background noise of the dripping, baby intercom, cat snoring and rain thudding against the window until I either need to pee again or finally fall asleep.
“MAMMY, MAMMY, MAMMY, MAMMY……..” Oh that’s my alarm clock, so I calculate I have about 10 more repetitions before I do actually have to get up and go to retrieve my daughter Alina from the one and only bedroom of the house she is inhabiting, to join us on the mattress on the floor. Once there a battle of weighted odds ensues as both myself and D try to continue to sleep while Alina drinks (spills) her milk and bounces about all over us, shoving books and toys in our faces, chanting “up, up, up” until we finally give in. Let me just clarify the time again at this point, it is 6.40am. As I let out an enormous sigh I cringe at the thought of yet another day of having all the things I do undone, being clambered all over, repeatedly tidying away the multitude of toys and household objects Alina moves about, and reading almost every book she owns with actions and noises; a string of events which are usually collectively topped-off with a screaming fit so bad she struggles to breath, as we try to put her pyjamas on ready for bed again in the evening.
In the counselling course which I am currently taking two analogies have been used to describe the way in which people deal with their lives. These are the spinning plates and the kites, and the idea is somehow learning to use the kites instead of the plates. The spinning plates is basically a way of describing the fact that some people have lots of different areas of their life like spinning plates, and they live trying to keep them all up and spinning, so it is a bit frantic and chaotic; where as the different areas of our lives can be like kites and we can gently pull each area down in turn to deal with it individually and calmly without worrying about everything coming crashing down around you. The first is definitely most applicable to my life at present (I am sure a lot of you will feel in a similar position), but I am working on the kites! And to be honest I reckon that if I did somehow master the kites they would either, tangle up, blow away or come plummeting to earth just as the plates do!
At only 23 a number of key life changing events have already taken place for me, so I think it is only understandable that I feel somewhat swamped by them all. Of course the main experience was that of having a child of my own, which in itself instigates a wealth of emotions that continue to be a constant battle on a daily basis. Suddenly this little person has to become the centre of your world and everything else has to orbit around her, and if something disturbs the balance it all comes crashing down, (or at least it becomes a bumpy ride!) Now I love my daughter, don’t get me wrong, but the two of us spending every moment of every day together is doing neither of us any good. My mother said to me one day recently, ‘it’s because you have a brain Jen, you need to use it’, and I think she is right. At first I thought I had delivered my brain with the placenta when Ali was born, but monotony and mental in-activity was more likely the source of its dormancy and confusion.
The second major aspect of my life is of course my partner D, who is 25 years my senior and a very traditional guy indeed. I do love him to pieces (just incase he’s reading this!), no really I do, but the age gap is rearing its ugly head more so each day and bringing a whole host of new and challenging ‘features’ to our relationship. I know of course that I am so unbelievably lucky because I could not want for a better man in terms of trust, support and sincerity, but, and there always seems to be a but, how shall I put it, we are encountering new issues along the way!
And finally there is the third part of my life, which happens to be a bit of a none -starter at present, which is my career as a midwife. The most important thing to know at the moment is that I forced myself to complete my training (degree) while being a mother to a young baby as I desperately did not want to be a housewife with a numb brain; only to find that the British Health Service has screwed up its finances more than I could ever manage to accomplish (and that is saying something); so much so that although desperately short of midwives it cannot afford to employ them! Bitter is an understatement.
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