Hope…

I met up with a fellow mum yesterday. She was a friend from my University days, actually she is Hubby’s friend but I’m stealing her.

She has a beautiful little boy who is just over one and she’s expecting another.

Spending a few hours with her, talking, listening, asking her questions has given me hope.

She has made me feel better, braver.

One of the issues I have been having when connecting with new mums is different parenting styles. I am not a CIO person as you know and Sidekick is not a baby who has naturally fallen into a sleep or feed schedule. We are different everyday. Whilst that does make doing anything really hard, for us its the right thing.

My friend had the same issue with her little boy. I found someone who understood.

She understood that feeling of being a failure of being convinced that you must be doing something wrong because your baby isn’t doing what the books say, what other mums say. She got my panic, my loneliness.

And so here I am feeling hopeful, that maybe I’m not screwing it all up, that I am okay doing what I’m doing.

I feel braver to try some other things.

It’s either her energy or my new haircut, either way I’m going to enjoy it.

The pen is mightier than the sword, why not say something

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