Persephone: Parent

A fine site

Introduction To the Other Me: Two Words

There’s a side of me that I keep quiet about online now. It’s a side of me that was the first me on the internet, almost 20 years ago and over the past few months, slowly some elements have crept into this blog. I’m a sci-fi geek. I used to never talk about my love of TV, attending conventions and writing fanfiction, but I now have some TV based blogs on here. I have discussed my conventions on here. But my fanfiction has never appeared.

Until now.

Where I house my fanfiction online, it has work dating back to the early 2000s if not maybe late 90s and I was a very different person then. God, I was barely an adult. I’m not going to go into great depth about the stories that I have posted online for the world to read. I won’t go into graphic detail into why I write fanfiction, which my favourite show is or what my favourite pairing is, etc, etc. I go through random periods where I write and others when I don’t. I haven’t written in almost a year now, but I keep thinking about it at the moment.

If you hit the more tag, there is a story beneath. It’s based on a TV show that I watch and love but you truly, really don’t need to know anything at all about that show. There are barely any names mentioned and the piece is very different for me. It is one of a few pieces that were written to work things out in my head and as we approach the second birthday of my first born, this is the story I wrote for him just before he turned one. And I guess this post, the story beneath are evidence of a different me – the me that writes fanfiction and keeps it hidden like a dirty little secret and the me that I was before I was blessed with Elvis and then Robin.

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I’m Happy For You

There is probably an element of shame and guilt in this, but, hey, it’s my blog and my feelings. I’m writing this on New Year’s Eve and only realised earlier that I seem to finally be happy with other people’s pregnancies. And I genuinely am. I learnt of two summer-due babies recently and I genuinely felt happy with no undercurrent of jealousy or bitterness.

It confused me when I got pregnant with Elvis, that I still felt bitter at friend’s announcements. I put it down to not actually having my child, that it could still go wrong. Then even once I had Elvis, pregnancy announcements would make me fakely smile and then cry in private. Why? Because they had done it naturally? Because they had all decided to get pregnant and did?

Then I got pregnant without trying. Looking at the maths, I probably still took far longer than any of them. But it still happened. And now I finally seem to be less bitter and jealous. I by no means think I’m over my infertility, I still identify myself with those struggling to conceive (I cannot wipe away 3 years). But I don’t get upset afterwards.

Except it has been replaced with a bitterness and jealousy over birth. Yep, all those mums that can go into labour, that don’t need drugs to start or enhance it, all those mums that can actually labour and, shock, horror, can even give birth through the natural hole. Each and every one of them sends a pang of jealousy through me.

And, as I have no idea, what’s in store for me, I have no idea if a second c-section will make this jealousy and envy worse, or if a VBAC will heal me? Or perhaps, with all of my increased research and knowledge, I will be at peace however Robin comes into the world.

I just hope that I can continue to be happy for friends and the future pregnancies they’re destined for.

~ P

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No Man’s Land. Again.

I think it’s mentioned in the About me section on here, the metaphor of War and getting pregnant, staying pregnant and then becoming a mum. I use them as categories on here, too.


  • The Trenches – this is where you’re trying to conceive. With Elvis this was three years of Hell, just trying to get out of there, watching as literally everyone I knew made their way out of the trenches as I suffered on.
  • No Man’s Land – the dangerous time where you have managed to make it over the top, you’re pregnant, and you have to get to The Other Side, that elusive title of Parent. Except it is far from easy. For some people it can be 9 months of constant vomiting, pelvic pain so bad it can be difficult to walk or back pain that leaves you bed-ridden. Then, of course, the daily fear that you might not make it to The Other Side. Something could go wrong, at any point.
  • The Waiting Game – some people don’t get this. There might not be any fight whatsoever to make it in to the enemy camp. For some people labour comes early, labour passes by with a click of their fingers and barely any pain. For others, they have to wait and wait and wait (Elvis!), some have to have surgery, some have to have a chemical induction. Just because you made it 42 weeks does not mean that it’s all plain sailing yet.
  • The Other Side – Yay! You made it! You got through the Trenches, with suffering or not, you made it over No Man’s Land, with scares or not, you maybe played the Waiting Game and you’re finally there – you’re a parent.

Now, originally The Other Side was a nice happy place in my metaphor – you made it, you’re a parent. Yes, there are difficulties, but you made it there and you’ll make it through the parenting hardships eventually. But in the past year or so, I have realised how The Other Side is actually quite fitting. In War, you make it across No Man’s Land into enemy territory and then you have to keep fighting the enemy, and, do you know what? Parenting is the same. On The Other Side, you have to fight the other parents, because they know best, they think you’re wrong and they happily tell you so. There are some friendly faces who fight alongside you, but there are far more others putting you down at any moment.

This post isn’t about that. This post is about the simple fact that, somehow, I have made it onto No Man’s Land again. WTF? I never thought I’d get there so easily. I mean, I was never officially in the Trenches this time. It just happened. And I never imagined it could. I hoped, deep down, but I never let myself really think about it. So whereas with Elvis, the Trenches were 3 years of Hell, with Robin, it was about 6 months and it wasn’t even trying. So far, being in No Man’s Land is slightly easier. There has been far less nausea and vomiting, although the pelvic pain pretty much developed straight away this time and I do worry that it could get a lot worse. I started showing far earlier and I feel “fat” because it isn’t a clear, hard bump yet.

I want to complain that I went from maternity bra to nursing bra and straight back into maternity bra, but I don’t want to sound ungrateful. Far from it. I’m in no way pleased that I’m still in a non-wired bra, but it’s something I can easily cope with!

It’s odd, so many times I’ve questioned the world how the hell people get pregnant, even after I had Elvis, I’ve still questioned it. Now I know. And I still get pretty freaked about raising 2 children only about 20 months apart!

I still can’t quite believe it!

~ P

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A Collection of Thoughts

This might be a weird post, designed to be a collection of posts that I can send out to the blogosphere all in one go. One day. Eventually. Maybe. Each blog will be separated by the date and time of writing, done as a quote to separate them.

First up: May 7th 2014

My period’s late. I just don’t know how late. My diary says that I had a period 9 weeks ago. I never marked down the next one, but we’re sure that there was a next one, so we think I’m a week late.

Hubby wants me to take a test. Two weeks ago, I had hyper crazy pre-menstrual symptoms, a week before I was due. I was convinced, hormonally, that I was about to start. The next morning I woke up and nothing. Two weeks later and there’s still nothing.

I tried to tell him that I don’t feel like I did before. He argued I had three follicles, three eggs, three times the pregnant hormones.

He still wants me to take a test.

I can’t even bring myself to buy one.

I’m about to go on holiday and my body used to be amazing at being regular as clockwork and then be late or early to spoil a holiday. I want to believe that’s what it is doing, because I cannot take a pregnancy test.

If I go and buy a test, that means that there’s a chance I’m pregnant, that means that I have hope, that I want to be pregnant and that all means that when it says negative, my heart will break. And where will that leave me next month? If I buy a test it makes it real. With reality comes pain.

It didn’t happen for three whole years, why would it happen now?

May 9th. Again

I bought the test.

Might do it tomorrow.

I bought it though when I had a conversation with a friend in my mind. The friend isn’t in my head, she was on holiday so I had a conversation with her in my head. In my head I told her that I was afraid. She says what of.

And that’s where I thought.

I’m afraid of testing and making it real. I’m afraid of wanting a pregnancy. I’m afraid of it hurting if this is just a hormone imbalance – blame it on the breastfeeding.

And it dawned on me. If, and I mean if I test, if it’s negative and if it hurts then I try and convince hubby to move up our see the doctor date of January 2017.

A negative result is not the end.

11th May.

I took the test yesterday.

For the second time ever, I took a pregnancy test and got a positive.

I don’t believe it.

For the first time ever I got pregnant through sex.

I honestly thought this blog post would be a collection of a few days of me wondering. I never thought it would be the chronicles of the beginning of a pregnancy.

We’ve only told 2 people so far. Everyone knew about Elvis from before I even ovulated, or the potential of him, anyway. So this one’s going to be a secret. This one’s going to be a surprise to everyone that we love, their gender will be a surprise, their exact conception and due date is a surprise!

I never thought this would happen to me. Honestly, sex does lead to pregnancy!

12th May 2014

well, today was my original due date for Elvis and I type this as he plays in the corner with his cookie jar shape sorter. I never imagined I’d be sitting watching my almost 1 year old whilst, apparently, pregnant. I never imagined it happening with Elvis being any age really!

With regards to this pregnancy, I’m as tired as I was at this point last time. It’s daunting, I guess. I can’t just nap whenever I need. And what about the morning nausea I had last time? It made me pretty much useless at work until I’d had my cheese and onion crisps and small bottle of lemonade. How can I indulge my pregnancy moments with Elvis?

And those thoughts lead into thoughts of Elvis having a sibling, doing the newborn thing again, which I hated last time, trying to still have rime for Elvis whilst also having time for a new one.

One big plus, I’ll essentially finish the first trimester before even returning from maternity leave!

I’ve become the cliché.

May 19th 2014

Two days until Elvis’ first birthday and I’m “still” pregnant. I don’t feel it at all. I still have no symptoms, or none of the ones I had with Elvis.

I keep worrying that it means there’s something wrong. Or that something will go wrong. I’m now about 6.5 weeks pregnant, I was about to have a scan at this point with Elvis. I’d have to pay to do it with this one, but can I wait until 12 weeks?

I have an odd appetite, either going hours without food, filling up too quick or being ravenous. I keep getting leg cramps in the night. But I’m on holiday and my diet’s altered.

Saturday 24th May

it’s Elvis’ birthday party today. I stopped breastfeeding him. I feel bloated. I’m probably about 7 weeks pregnant. I don’t feel quite as tired, or I can fight it.

I’m nauseous. All the time. Evening. Morning. How can I be a parent, running to and hugging the toilet bowl all of the time? And my pelvis is already starting to hurt, far earlier than last time!

At least I feel pregnant!

26th May

For the past two weeks, since I got the BFP, hubby has been on holiday and home with me and Elvis the whole time; tomorrow he returns to work and I’m really anxious about it.

What if I get too tired?

What if I get nauseous?

I’ve made a decision regarding Elvis and based on my pregnancy – I stopped breastfeeding. I needed time off. I haven’t always enjoyed BF Elvis and I didn’t want to keep going and resent it again too soon for the next baby. I’m aware that, or at least am afraid of, this might not be real or viable (nothing to say that, just fear) so I may have made a mistake, but I made it a year and I think we were done even without this pregnancy.

Thursday 29th May

I am so tired. Honestly. I could hibernate a few months. Truly, I don’t remember being this tired first time around. I’m having to find afternoon groups so it forces me to stay awake. I wish the weather were nicer so I could take Elvis to the park.

Yesterday, after 12 hours overnight, I had a 1.5 hour nap as Elvis took his morning one. I’m feeling a bit better today. At the moment.

I also got really horrible nausea yesterday whilst out shopping. Guess it’s time to stock up on cheese and onion crisps.

I’m finding the whole secrecy thing difficult. Last time pretty much everyone knew due to the treatment, asking me moments after I took the pregnancy test. This time 5 people know. I feel guilty when I’m at a baby group now, because I’m lying to those mums and some are noticing my mood’s different. But I promised myself, when pregnant with Elvis, that a second pregnancy would be more private. I promised.

May 30th

I had energy yesterday. I wasn’t completely exhausted all day. I had a serious bout of nausea, but fought it. Then I had insomnia last night (which might just be my normal) and I feel like I shouldn’t be functioning right now. But I am.

I keep having this serious feeling or urging to run away. How am I supposed to deal with two children so close in age? Can I afford nursery for both? Will I be able to work? Will I be able to take them both to swimming lessons?

My husband’s currently nursing a hangover, taking a half day from work and lying in bed. When’s my day off? Why can’t I run away?

12th June

Okay the nausea is mainly passed, touch wood, and I don’t feel fully exhausted all of the time. I’m also feeling lots better about being a mum, being in this position and having me time.

I have discovered over the past two days that I have pregnancy skin and I don’t mean that I’m glowing. Nope, I get dry, red, flaky awful skin. Last time I ended up unable to allow water to touch my face in the morning as my face over-reacted. Time to stop washing my face!

~ P

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Giving Up Everything

Warning: Another Facebook Based Rant Again!

Years ago a friend (I use the term loosely and have now cut her out of my life for numerous reasons) posted a facebook status about giving up things when being a mum. I think it’s giving up tans for dark circles under their eyes, salon haircuts for ponytails, designer bags for diaper bags and long baths for quick showers.

It pissed me off then and it’s pissed me off today when the same statement is filling my timeline!

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The Greener Grass

I have spent the past few days feeling conflicted and I think I’ve figured out why. I have wanted to desperately feel like me, to be just me in moments other than when I go swimming or shopping. I want to be more than just a mummy to Elvis and more than just a wife. I want to be a friend and a person.

And for this I feel guilty.

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The Inevitable

It’s happened.

This morning at baby group I learnt that a mummy is due baby number 2 in September. Her first turned one today, is 2 months older than Elvis and one of the first mums I met. I haven’t seen her in ages so wouldn’t even say she’s a friend. But she is the first.

She even said that it was sooner than she’d wanted, which still, apparently rankles with the fertility challenged me.

So, I made a decision. Hubby and I discussed it. January 2017. That’s when we’ll go back to the doctors. If it hasn’t happened naturally.

There decision made.

So, now there’ll be no jealousy over seconds, will there? There’ll be no guilt over my hatred, right?

Yeah, okay.

~ P


Writing My Life Away

I’ve been writing again. Just before Christmas I started, then I stopped. Over the past two weeks, I’ve been writing again. I’m posting a story I finished almost two years ago that some people were in the middle of reading before I got pregnant and paused with it. I’ve posted a new story, a personal story that meant so much to me and I have had such amazing reviews. I’m posting another and writing a third. My muse (Persephone, herself) seems to be unstoppable right now. Every time Elvis goes for a nap or my husband allows me time on his computer (I don’t like typing on his Mac), I forego napping, cleaning, socialising for writing. It’s an addiction!

I may post the personal story in a few days, but looking through my hard drive, I found a letter, an unfinished letter that I wrote in January of 2012 and it seems quite fitting today.

No one has seen this before.

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How Do People Get Pregnant?

Honestly, how?

I was taught that it’s by having sex, but I find that hard to believe, actually, impossible to believe.


How do people get pregnant?

And how the fuck do I get over it?


The Second War

I read the above blog earlier and, aside from some huge differences, I’ve been having thoughts in the same train of thought.

Do I want to start trying for baby number 2?
Do I want to risk all of that pain and heartbreak again?
Do I want to become the person I hated?

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