I have seriously not had the urge to write lately. I don’t know, it comes and goes for me. Some days I think I’m gonna be the most awesome blogger ever and write about everything that happens in my life and such but the next I don’t want to share even the tiniest things and feel insecure about people reading my thoughts. Not literally of course.

Still I want to share. Sometimes. This is one of those times.

This is the story of a mother that put her son to sleep at 7:30 pm on a regular tuesday night. Happy with the conquests of the day (including making Leon poop in the toilet 3 times! (Yes, this makes me happier than I ever thought a poo could)), I started cleaning up around the house like on any given night. Only to end up face down on the bathroom floor, bleeding from the head at 8 pm. Now here’s the awkward part. I was washing my breastfeeding pillow. A stubborn little bugger. The pillow, not me. So there I am, in the shower with the pillow. When I finished washing it I was struggling with getting the water out. So what did I do? I decided to stand on it.

Next thing I remember is laying dizzy and confused on the shower bottom. First though: “that’s awkward, better stand up fast and pretend this did not happened”. Then I see drops of blood hitting the white tiled floor. Second thought (maybe I even said it outloud): “No, no, no, no this is not happening”. I stood up and looked in the mirror and saw my face looking a lot like this:

Lightheaded I ran to the phone. I was terrified of passing out with Leon asleep in the bedroom. I called my parents house, my grandmother, my sister and Carlos at work. They all came over. It was chaos! My father and my sister took me to the emergency room where they stitched me up real good. Six stitches.

OK, OK, I am sure that after seeing the second photo you think I was exaggerating with the amount of blood. But I assure you I was not…

There is a lesson here. Don’t be stupid. I was lucky. This time.

This was two weeks ago but I must say that the wound is healing quite well. Here I am cooking dinner yesterday. We had homemade meatballs or “baby-burgers” as I chose to call them.

Anyway, writing is fun. I hope I’ve recovered my mojo even though my ego remains scattered allover the bathroom floor.

Seventh day…. With the flu. Oh the hell. Carlos has been working night and day at the restaurant lately and I’ve been going out of my mind roaming our tiny apartment like a caged tiger, ill-equipped to take care of my cub. So with a broken spirit I migrated with the little one to my parents house for a couple of days to take the load off. When we stay over, my parents always offer us the master bedroom. A small price to pay for having their grandson staying for a weekend *wink wink*. Because it’s the biggest bed in the house and Carlos was staying at our flat my mom snuggled with me and Leon in my parents bed last night.

Now here’s an example of how awesome mothers are. My mom is a heavy sleeper. She slept through all the feedings of the night. Then at 5 am I woke up, nursed Leon while literally coughing my lungs out the whole time. I went to the bathroom to change his diaper. Then we went back to bed and still my mom was sound asleep. I tried to put Leon back to sleep but obviously it is quite difficult to sooth a baby while coughing up a storm. Mom: zzzz… like a rock. This went on for some time. Leon complaining, me coughing. Close to tears with frustration I murmured in the softest barely audible voice: “mamma”. And THAT woke her up. By pure motherly instinct she sensed that I needed her at that exact moment. Or maybe it’s the power of that word “mom”. She had slept through every cough and nose blow, Leon protesting, us getting out of bed for a fresh nappy and back in. But now she was up and there to give me some much needed comfort. She got me a glass of water, some throat drops and helped me put Leon back to sleep. There was something extremely poetic about the situation. Three generations. Two mothers giving their children the comfort that they needed to make it through the night.

I am 30 years old and I still look to my mother when I need warmth and comfort. I always will. I can only hope my son will feel the same way about me as he grows older.

Today my little lion is 6 months old. He has come a long way since the day I laid out flat, sweaty and high on adrenaline in that hospital bed pushing him into this world. To celebrate I thought I’d write a post on our milestones. Yes, also my milestones because I as well have undergone some major changes and acquired some unexpected skills since he was born. (more…)

Leon being weighed at the age of 2 weeks

When I was pregnant I googled EVERYTHING. I mean EVERY.SINGLE.THING that has to do with pregnancy, birth and caring for a baby. From morning sickness reliefs to the best baby toys on the market. Let me tell you (in case you haven’t already figured it out) there is a lot of contradicting information on the web about all imaginable topics. (more…)