Postnatal Depression is a CURSE Continue reading Newborn Hell
drawn from vivid pain
and hellish black eternity.
Slender Joan was very slim;
she spent her spare time down the gym.
She wriggled here and strutted there,
and tossed about her glossy hair.
As if I always shine
You’ve no idea the work it took
And how much ‘pamper time’ . . .
Sometimes my heart breaks . . .
With a baby and a three year old, I found it almost impossible to get out of the door looking anywhere as near polished as I used to. In fact, some days, I really did resemble someone who had been sleeping rough for a few nights. I couldn’t understand how some women could turn up with four or five children and look as if they had just walked out of a beauty salon. I wrote this poem on a particularly bad day when a large part of me was grieving the pre-baby me. Continue reading I was quite “Trendy” . . . once!
I am so very glad that I am lucky enough to no longer be part of the rat-race . . .
It’s here, the dreaded Friday night,
the ‘home for weekend’ weekly fight.
A queue is stretching car by car.
I am not getting very far.
There are times when British weather really gets me down . . . but without it, what an earth would we talk about?