Squidge is 21 months now. She is much more physical and opinionated, oh the Terrible Twos have arrived. I cannot begin to articulate how much harder being her caregiver is. There was the planking incident when I tried to get her back in her car seat at the supermarket, the throwing her weight down as I carried her upstairs for the nap she wouldn’t admit she needed. She cries every night now when we leave her in the cot.

I ache constantly. I’m sleeping terribly. I’m so horribly anxious that Squidge’s every upset is my fault, that I’m failing her. I went to the doctors today and said as much. She was very calm and kind, told me that I will always be Squidge’s normality and I shouldn’t give myself such a hard time. But how can I not when I was seconds away from cancelling the damn appointment in the first place, because I didn’t think I’d have time to dress Squidge, get her in the pram and get to the Doctors without being late. I couldn’t stand to be late, because then what would people say about me?

I know logically, the answer is nothing. No-one really cares about other people as much as we imagine they do. But everything, everything is overwhelming for me right now. I know this because I sat at my desk this week and could feel myself drifting away. It was like I was trapped behind glass, watching my world happen around me in slow motion. I had no grounding in the world and I am pertrified of losing the control I have on my own life.

I am really struggling with the changes I have no choice but to make if I want to keep any semblance of a life going. Kev & I have agreed that come my first review next year, I am going to decrease my hours. I’ve had the discussion with my boss, who is so accepting and easy-going about it all, even when I essentially said: “I’ll have to quit in a few years anyway, but please let me do it slowly.” He lets me work from home so I can sleep in, he doesn’t blink if I finish early because of pain or because I’m still nervous about driving in heavy traffic. I’m very lucky. Because I don’t want to give up work. I take pride in the fact I can have my own money.

But it was Kev who made me see I’d have to sooner rather than later, that it wasn’t worth giving up my life over.

So there’s work. That’s going. Although I plan to swap it out for a Master’s course, so maybe it won’t be so bad, I’ll still have something that is mine.

I don’t take care of my own home. We hire a cleaner once a week and my mother in law insists on doing our ironing because I’m too terrified of my tremors around a hot iron to dare.

My in-laws were away last week and my God, it was so, so hard without them. Support networks are invaluable people. I was in tears every day, Squidge was asking for them and trying to make them cups of tea in the kitchen. I started to wonder, could this really be my life if I were a stay at home mum? And it seems that both Kev & I agree, no, it couldn’t. These are the reasons I so absolutely need Squidge to be that much older before we plan the next one, and we so want the next one.

People seem to think they’re being funny or helpful by telling me it’s best to have your children close together. It’s not best for me, but no-one wants to hear that bit, do they?

I’ve decided that Squidge will go to playgroup on one of my days off so that I can have time to myself, for a bath or a massage to sort out my muscles when the pain gets too much.

She’ll enjoy it too, more children to get to know… even better that it’s local and she might grow up with these kids. So why do I allow myself to feel so terrible about it when there’s no downside?

The in-laws came home and the next night, they had Squidge overnight and Kev & I went out for dinner to celebrate our 3rd wedding anniversary. I had a bath and preened, had my dress all ready. And then I went for an afternoon nap before our 6:30pm dinner, because this is just how I have to do things now if I’m ever going to be able to see the night through.