It’s my birthday today. And I’m feeling a little sorry for myself.
It started off well. Amazing M let me shower and wash my hair in peace. I got made up and dressed both of us nicely. We had a scrumptious breakfast with a friend and her son at The Wolseley in Green Park. Had a browse along the shops in New Bond Street and came home to chillax.
When we got home I realised why Amazing M was giving me a very miserable look on the way home: she was feeling unwell with a fever.
This time last year, M was really unwell. To the point where she wouldn’t feed and protested in being put down. She was constantly on my sleep deprived body and I was weeping in self pity and exhaustion.
Whilst my state of mind is in better shape, I think I am allowed to feel a little annoyed. Not at Amazing M, but at the situation. Dinner at my favourite restaurant had to be cancelled. I am in my pyjamas instead of the new Issa dress I got for my birthday. And I am smelling like a medieval apothecary with the essential oil blends I have massaged into M’s back and feet for the past hour to help lower her fever. Life after babe is definitely unpredictable.
Next year, I will celebrate my birthday a week early. Maybe have a whole month of celebrating. Why the heck not?!