I have just re-read a couple of posts from last week and realised I may have given the impression that I am constantly curled up in a heap crying. Nothing could be further from the truth.
I am still loving being a Mum and feel incredibly privileged that Isobel chose me to be her Mummy. I still find it a wonder and a delight*. I'm fascinated by her and could gaze at her all day just to revel in how beautiful and perfect she is, and be amazed that we created this little tiny human being.
I don't think we are doing too badly: she gets herself to sleep (mostly), she feeds well (and fast) and is really good in the night.
With a lot of love and a little luck hopefully we can conquer the niggles.
* Even when, at 6 o'clock this morning my darling daughter decided to cover my pj trousers, her changing mat and everything in between (i.e bed and floor) in bright yellow poo. I am sure PD loved being roused by me asking for help because I was covered in sh.t. (He did laugh - I knew I shouldn't have written that she saved this trick for Daddy.)
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