
Emerging from
the Hurricane
Seven weeks has passed
already since the birth of little Apolline. Hence my being blissfully quiet all
this time. Time? What time? I have been smoothly thrust (yes, the birth was
“gentle”, as gentle as the worst, debilitating contractions can be, that is)
into the hurricane which has hit my life for the past 2 months. What was I
thinking!!!! Sure, next year or the year after may prove my efforts not to have
been in vain as I’ll no doubt watch my two loving girls entertain each other
quietly and gently, alone in their room, playing with their pretty little
dolls…But in the meantime… I can’t even start my story with a “my day starts
when…” as actually, my day NEVER starts, or never ends? The egg or the chicken???
The day started the moment I left the clinic where I was looked after, fed,
cared for, and RESTED – picked up by my 20 month old toddler who’d never been
away from me for more than a few hours. I expected tears of joy, a slow motion
run down the corridor, her flinging herself into my longing arms. But no. This
one just gave me one glance and decided on the cold treatment. Oh but it was
all “OOOhs” and “BABA’s!!!” upon meeting her sister, while poor old mum, who’d
done all the work, let me remind you, had to suck up to Mathilde a solid 2
hours before even being acknowledged.

And so my day goes,
running, running, running, I switch between Patience Personified, and Dame Dragon
, schizo is my middle name. But now I know. Give me a year and all this will be
forgotten; only the memory of my 2 girls quietly playing with their pretty
little dolls will remain. Hold on to that thought…