Mummy needs a massage too!

I don’t think I have ever been so busy since Squidge arrived. I like to have plans, even if I am shocking at following them through. I like the illusion that life’s not wasting.

Kev calls me the social secretary. Since all those antenatal appointments, if a commitment is not on my phone calendar, then it ain’t happening. Except even that’s spilling over now, between health visitor appointments, uni work, driving lessons and people wanting to meet Squidge, it’s a wonder we sit down together of a weekend! And there was me thinking maternity leave was just about daytime telly. No such luck, though me and Squidge admittedly both love a bit of Homes Under the Hammer!

I’m determined maternity leave should be a productive time for us both though so we’ve thrown baby massage into the mix on a Tuesday morning.

I figured given that I would frankly shrivel and die without a good massage, any daughter of mine would be equally relaxed by one. Honestly I was hoping it’d be a surefire way to get her to sleep through.

So far, I think I enjoy it more than Squidge does. First session she promptly poo’ed all the way up to her shoulders and the rest of the hout was lost on me in the midst of the mammoth clean up. Couldn’t help but be a little impressed mind, fair play.

I do envy able mummies when it comes to this kind of endeavour though. Don’t get me wrong,  getting a baby ready and packed to be on a massage mat for 11am is a mammoth task for anyone – I have to be up at 6am to have a hope – bur I’m already very aware of what a huge physical undertaking any activity with Squidge will be for me.

Kev and I currently live in a first floor flat and the pram has to hang on a hook at the bottom of the stairs. There’s not enough room between the stairs and the front door to set the pram up without the door bring open and the pram itself sticking out onto the street outside.

So I have to get Squidge fed, changed and dressed, bottles made, bag packed before I can even go down and take the pram off the wall. It’s heavy (though the lightest we could find) and after all the bending and wrenching, my hips ache before I’ve even gone back upstairs for her.

I have to plan to be on the bus before the one I realistically need in case there’s no space on board for a pram because I’ll have to be the mum that refuses to fold down the pram. I’m dreading the first time I have to explain to a judgemental demanding stranger that it’s because I can’t, not because I won’t.

There’s only so many times you can hear “you don’t look disabled.”

Well, great thanks… any chance you could inform my damaged brain? I was thinking of ditching the chronic pain anyways, it’s so last year…

Even just tilting the wheels up snd down puts a lot of pressure on my back I didn’t anticipate.


Squidge all chilled out after baby massage


Baby massage is done on mats on the floor. This hurts too. I wish I could do it at a little table so I’m not forever having to second guess how I can safely deliver Squidge to the floor and back without hurting myself or aching as I lean over her all session long.

I should ask.

I won’t.

Stupidly,  it’s so ingrained in me that people only equate disabilities to wheelchairs and not “looking disabled” that I’d rather cling to the illusion that I’m like everyone else, that no one can tell I’m any different. I want to do what everyone else does.

The sentiment is fine. The pain is not.

Please learn from my mistakes. Don’t be so pig headed.

By the time I’m off the floor,  home and the pram is back on the wall, I’m in agony and need a day to recover.


One class a week seems to be all I’ll be able to manage. I feel like this lets Squidge down somehow. But I figure she would rather I was on hand with a bottle at 2 in the morning.

It’s better to manage a little well than a lot badly.

I know this. But the weekly planner I was so thrilled to stick up in the kitchen this week as if it were further evidence of what an organised and dedicated mummy I am (there’s even a magnet on the back!) still had a driving lesson and book club on for this evening.

And I’m proud to report that for once in my life, I haven’t let either slide. Kev’s at home with Squidge and I drove myself to book club from my lesson, having been  reading the books but not attending since I was four months pregnant!

Major social victory for me there. I’ll have adult non Squidge related conversation for a change. Cheeky glass of rose won’t go amiss either.

Not going to lie… letting Squidge knock herself out on 12oz of milk in the hour after we got home helped… 2 hour nap for us both – score!

Pain is manageable and I feel accomplished.  Giving myself chance to still be Jo as well as Mummy.

Will still be trying to get a massage out of Kev when I get home though. My poor little body has worked hard today.

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