For My Beautiful Daughter, My Darling Princess,

You were the most wanted little girl in history. We found out you were on your way on Valentines Day - what better gift to treasure, than that of a child. I sneaked out and was at the chemist as it opened in order to buy the pregnancy test. I always remember handing the cashier the money, and as she popped the test in a bag, she handed it to me and said "good luck" and winked!!! Luck was definitely on our side, daddy was thrilled that he was going to be a daddy again, and your big brother was thrilled at the prospect. We went to our scans and check ups as a family - we waved to you on the screen, wriggling and kicking. The sonographer showed us the hair on your head, we knew you would have hair long before we knew you were a girl!! In my heart I really really wanted a little girl. I had been lucky enough to have a gorgeous boy already, and you were my heart's desire - I never ever told anyone, or spoke of that desire. If anyone asked if I had a preference, I said "no, just healthy will do me".

The day you came into the world was a friday. Your nana came to stay the night before, I cooked a special meal which we ate together, as I was not allowed food, because you were being delivered by caesarean section. We left the house at 7 in the morning and sat in the rush hour traffic, wondering what you would look like! We were so excited. You were born at 10.00 am. When they lifted you out of me and said "It's a girl" the most massive feeling of excitement overtook me, my eyes filled with tears and I watched as the midwife passed you to your daddy to show me. Our eyes met and I knew from that second on, you were my princess - you stole a piece of my heart and I loved you so much it almost hurt. "Well," I said to daddy "You best get a pink quad bike now!" How little we knew at that point, that pink would feature so heavily in our lives from that moment on! We had already decided on a name for you, and it suited your round dark eyes, your shock of dark hair and your pretty pink rosebud lips. I could not wait to get my hands on you. When we were back on the ward, you were laying in your little fishtank cot, I gazed at you. I could not believe that my secret wish had been granted. My heart sang as I fed you your little bottle of milk. I sorry I never tried to feed you myself - but after I had your brother I was very poorly, and it was decided that rather than get poorly again, I would take medication to try and prevent it happening - but, it meant I could not nourish you myself - I am sorry, and I do regret that now. You were dressed in the little white outfit I had bought, I wanted you in pink though, I wanted the world to know I had my girlie - I was so proud. I sent daddy off to buy pink baby gros, he would not dare come back til he had found some that fitted - you were so petite, all the unisex stuff we had bought you was huge!!! Your tiny legs didn't reach into the leg holes. Daddy came back with some very dainty girly clothes - I couldn't wait to dress you up, my very own, real life Tiny Tears dolly.

We brought you home and so we began our life together with you, your big bro, myself & daddy. You had so many visitors - everyone wanted to meet you. You were lavished with pink and feminine gifts - the house resembled a florists, with all the flowers we were sent. I used to put you in the moses basket to sleep - you were so tiny I was afraid your boisterous big brother might break you! We put the basket in the playpen, so you could sleep easily. Little did I know that your big brother would be anything but a danger to you - he absolutely adored you - he watched you sleep, he read you stories - he gave you your nickname, which we still use now! You were such a dainty baby, you watched the world through your piercing green eyes. You did NOT like to miss anything - you sat at the table with us for meal times from the start, you could not bear to be left out! I knew there was something wrong when you were a few weeks old, the health visitor tutted as she weighed you. You were on the bottom of the weight chart and were not gaining. I was petrified - I had wanted you so much, please God, don't let anything be wrong :( You were always a sicky baby, but as the weeks wore on we realised that changing your milk made no difference, and that feeding you needed bathsheets - one over me & the sofa and one over the floor - you were so sick. It turns out you were allergic to milk. I am so sorry I put myself first and didn't feed you myself - they said you would probably have been allergic to my milk too, but I never gave you the chance - sorry. Once we had sorted out your special milk, you began to grow a little, I loved that you were small and dainty - you truly were my dolly. As you got older and began to eat we discovered that you were not just allergic to milk - there were lots of other foods that made you poorly. You had a very selective diet - but you enjoyed what you had - you LOVED Dutch apple pudding! You watched your brother intently, by 9 months you were on your feet - you could not wait to be where he was, doing what he did! You were still tiny - I took you to get your first shoes - you were a Size 1 - "They don't make walking shoes that small"said the shop assistant sniffily - "Babies with feet that small can't walk" I couldn't help myself - "oh?" I said and got you out of the pram and put you on the floor - you shot off, walking over to the mirror "could you tell her that" I smirked at the assistant! We got your shoes from another shop and you loved the freedom of going outside and playing with your brother in the garden. How proud I was of my boy and my girl - I loved pushing you both in the double pushchair!

As time went on, your brother started school, and you began nursery - how you hated that! In the end we took you out and left it a few months before trying again. You settled quickly in the end, palling up with another little girl who would be your best friend - and still is now - and will be forever I am sure! You spurned trousers and any clothing other than your beloved pink! Occasionally I could get you into denim, but there had to be something pink / flowery on it! You began ballet at 2 1/2 - you loved it - so cute in your little leotard (pink of course!) and REAL ballet shoes - how you loved those shoes, you slept in them for the first week you had them! Your love of dancing has continued, you now study tap dancing and modern as well. You have danced on stage in the theatre - I was so proud of you, I still am, and always will be. You passed your ballet exam with flying colours. You now do gymnastics too - and have passed several grading tests - my gorgeous, agile, dainty princess.

When you were 3 you became a big sister! How excited you were, telling everybody and anybody that there was a baby in mummy's tummy. I can only say sorry that you never got the baby sister you wanted, but your little brother worships you and waits for you to come home everyday, just to do things with you. I know that has been a source of much angst for you, and you have asked and prayed many times for a sister, but we really couldn't manage it. You have been a lovely sister, and your 2 brothers would go to the ends of the earth for you :)

As time passed you began school - you were made for school, you couldn't wait! You have never looked back, enthusiastic in everything, excelling in language and writing. Creative and imaginative - you thrive on these tasks. You have already decided to be a primary school teacher like mummy :) you will be, I know you will. I love brushing your waist length hair, spending time learning to french plait so I could do the style you wanted! We paint your toenails bright pink, and hide them beneath your school socks - a little bit of rebel already! We spend time curling your hair with a hot wand, and trying on clothes and making up outfits. I love that even though you are tall and growing up fast that you still throw yourself at me and say "I love you mummy, you're the best"

There are times when you are forgetful and dreamy, but there are other times when you are lively and excitable! I am sorry that I can't join you in your rolling and jumping and skipping games, I wish I didn't live in pain. I curse the back and leg pain which mean I am a bystander rather than a participant in your life. I hope you will understand one day how much I wanted to join in, and hated the fact that I couldn't. I am sorry for the wasted hours you have had, dragging round hospitals and medical facilities. I am sorry our house has been full of strangers on a daily basis - one day you will understand that they were the Mental Health Crisis team, and their help kept me with you for longer. I have so much to apologise for. When you are a teacher with your own class, and a parent comes to you with problems, that you will understand how much they want to help their child, how they would rather feed their children than themselves - and you will help them in any way you can. You won't be judgmental, you will care. Please, my darling girl, if you are ever sad or feel like you could cry and never stop, promise me you will tell someone - get help. DOn't be brave, don't soldier on, please, for me. You have kissed me better so many times - never knowing that some of the hurts were done by my own hands - I didn't want to hurt you - so I hurt myself, please don't ever spoil your beautiful body with scars, like I have done. You are perfect in every way, and I love you so much it physically hurts.

I hope that you will always hold that piece of my heart that you stole the very first time our eyes met, hold it tight and know how much I love you. You truly are my princess, my heart's desire, my darling daughter. I will love til forever, wherever I may be

Always your adoring and loving mummy xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dear Son

To My Eldest Child, My beloved Son,

I truly believe that children are a gift, a blessing. We tried for 7 years to have a child with no luck at all. We truly believed that we were never going to have children. We decided that if that were the case, then we would get on with our lives. We moved house, got new cars, I applied for a promotion, then out of the blue the day that changed our lives forever. We went to the shopping centre after work to buy an outfit for my promotion interview. I had come over light headed at work during the afternoon and had had to sit down. I thought I was in need of sugar, it was only in the car that the thought that I may be pregnant flicked through my mind. I didn't dare voice the thought. I couldn't allow myself to think it even for a minute. It was only as I wandered around the shops with your dad, that I suddenly said - I think I need to do a test. Your dad looked scared as we sat in the cafe, holding a pregnancy test under the table. I had done loads of them in the past, so I thought I had read it wrong when we realised it was positive - it had actually happened - you were on your way.

As you grew inside me, I could not wait to meet you. I read everything I could find about pregnancy, how big you were, what changes were happening as you developed within me. I could not wait to get a bump and let the world know that you were there, you were real, my own baby. As my tummy grew, we saw you on the hospital monitors at scan times, we heard your heart pounding at the midwife appointments. I wanted so much to hold you in my arms. We did not know you were a boy. Daddy wanted a little boy as he was not sure he could cope with a girl, I was not bothered - I just wanted you, healthy, happy and by my side. As the weeks went by, my tummy grew and grew - you wriggled and kicked inside me - letting me know you were there. You were due mid January, it was the Millennium - the year 2000. By the time the Millennium celebrations took place I was heavy and swollen and counting down the days until your birth. I was admitted to hospital - I had blood pressure problems, I stayed in for 10 days before the doctors decided you would be better outside me, rather than in. I remember the evening so clearly, Daddy dressing in blue hospital scrubs, me making phone calls from the phone box in the hall, warning Nana & Grandad that you were on your way! As I lay on the trolley in the operating theatre, behind the blue screen, the doctor lifted you from inside me and shouted "It's a boy!" I glowed with pride and felt excitement like I had never felt before as your eyes met mine for the very first time. You had a beautiful round face, screwed up eyes and masses of black hair. You were perfect, your daddy did not leave your side as they took you off to be weighed and measured. After a short spell in the recovery room we went up to the ward. They wheeled you in your fish tank trolley behind me "Where's my boy?" I remember saying, "Where is my boy?" I had already named you, I think Daddy would have let me have whatever I wanted once he had seen his son. You were named for your grandfathers. Your maternal grandfather was so proud to have you named for him, and your great nana was just delighted.

After 5 long days in hospital, we were allowed to take you home. I was so scared, we strapped you into your little seat and you screwed your face up and cried. You cried all the way home! We carried your seat in and put it on the sofa - your daddy and I looked at you & then each other - we hugged, a huge excited hug, as we began this new phase of our lives, as parents to a gorgeous baby boy.

You were not the easiest baby in the early days. You cried for hours on end - I fed you, changed you, walked for hours with you in the pram. I did not know what I was doing wrong. I tried everything, cuddling you, rocking you, an electric swing chair, bouncy chair, baby sling, pram. You would pull your little legs up to your tummy, your face would go dark red as your little pink mouth turned into a large gaping space emitting the most piercing wails, that you could keep going for hours on end. I gave you Infacol with your feeds in the hope it would make you more comfortable, I tried gripe water, boiled water, raisin water, but still the crying went on. I felt like the worst mum in the world - I did not know how to make you happy. You weren't a great sleeper - you and I spent many hours downstairs in the middle of the night, watching an early version of MTV where they only had enough songs to fill an hour, so played the same ones over and over again. We had a turning point when you were 8 weeks old, one of the midwives showed me how to swaddle you - suddenly you felt safe, you began to sleep a bit more. Feeding became easier as you got bigger - we had no problem weaning you, you gobbled down everything we tried you with! You loved blueberry puddings, and cauliflower cheese.

As you grew, my confidence diminished, I felt that I had let you down, your early days were so stressful, I truly believed that you hated me. I would look into your little blue eyes, with their long lashes, wondering why you cried at me, what I had done wrong - I had dreamt of this time, as a new mum, for so many years. Instead of being the idyllic picture in my head, that I had imagined for so long, it was a chaotic, emotional rollercoaster, fraught with negative feelings. I sank into the darkness of post natal depression. It was not your fault my darling boy, I was overwhelmed by negative feelings. I have never had a lot of confidence in my own abilities - post natal depression robbed me of the last bit of confidence - I have never felt so inadequate. I felt that I didn't deserve you, that I was a poor excuse for a mother. I could not cope. I loved you with all my heart, but hated myself so much I wasn't sure I could be your mum. Once things had settled down, and we were used to each other, I got some help for the PND, and slowly but surely we got to know each other properly. I am sorry that I was not good enough in the early days, I hope that you can forgive me.

As you became a toddler, your personality developed - you won over everyone you met, with your winning smile, blue eyes and blonde hair. You began to talk, and so we got to know the real you. You are charming and clever - a memory for details, knowledge and trivia. When you come out with a car fact it makes me think of your daddy, who also has a great mind for facts. You wowed people with your knowledge of cars and their marques, everywhere we went you chattered away, taking in everything - names, places, directions. They loved you at nursery, you remembered everything they taught you, you always knew what day of the week it was, and what the date was. By the time you started school you were so ready to venture into education, you couldn't wait to get through the door. Whilst your handwriting is not the best, you have shone at maths and science, working far in advance of your years. You are a talented musician, with an ear for a tune. We share a love of theatre and musicals, I love to sing along with you. You made me so proud as you stood on stage, singing solos, taking the lead in productions with your friends. I love that you still throw your arms around me and say that you love me, even though you are growing up. I think it is fantastic that you want long hair - never feel that you have to be the same as everyone else, don't follow the crowd, don't play safe just for an easy life. Stand by your principles - if you don't want to eat meat - don't, if you want to boycott Nestle, then do so, knowing that you are an individual who can make his own choices. When you come to my room first thing in the morning and cuddle me, with your cheery good mornings, my heart leaps that I am so lucky to have you. You are a gift, a blessing, and though you sometimes you drive me to distraction - when you tantrum about your homework, I love you so much it hurts.

I am sorry that I have not been all the mum you deserve - I wish I could take you for bike rides and play rough and tumble games. I am sad that my back prevents us from enjoying the outdoors the way you would like to. One day I hope you will forgive me for suffering the depression that has stalked our lives - for the days you wanted to go out and I couldn't face it. For the hours you spent being dragged around hospital appointments, I apologise. I have tried so hard to keep going for you, to not give in to the thoughts that could take me away from you. It is you that I think of when the night is dark and I struggle to carry on. I wish that I never had these thoughts, but sadly I do, they are a part of me, just like my love of music and my fear of slugs. One day I will explain to you that in order to keep myself whole for you, I had to hurt myself. I don't understand it yet, but one day I will be able to explain it to you. One day, when you are a husband and father yourself, when your own children are keeping you busy. I want so much for you darling, but more than anything in the whole wide world, I want you to be happy.

What ever happens in your life, I will always love you, and will always be ,

Your Mum xxxxxxxxxxx

I have not written my blog for over a month! It has been a strange month - a month with days as dark as my mood, and as wet as the tears I have cried. I have narrowly avoided being put into a psychiatric hospital, my depression has been so bad. I have struggled to function, pain from my joints has been magnified by the pain in my heart and soul. In my darkest moments I have considered leaving life behind, however I would never willingly leave my children & husband.

I stood on the motorway bridge. The cars and lorries whizzed past beneath me - totally unaware that the woman above them was considering a journey far further than their supermarket trip, or holiday destination. As the wind blew my hair across my face, getting stuck in my eyes and mouth, I leaned forward and the dirty smell of diesel fumes hit me. The stench of engine oil, grease and exhaust smoke rose upwards, as if repelling me. I realised what I was considering and took a step back. Slowly I hobbled away from the barriers. I sat in my car, breathing more regularly, trying to avoid a panic attack which appeared to be close. Vomit filled my mouth as enormity of my actions sank in. I looked at my smudged face in the mirror. I brushed my hair down flat with my fingers. I took a swig of water, splashing some into my hands and wiping them roughly across my face. I started the engine. Music filled the car. I drove the 2 minute drive home. My key in the door heralding shouts of "Mummy, mummy - where did you go? Did you bring me sweets? Where are my cards? " The bridge seemed a lifetime away.

After the visit to the bridge, my experience with self harm seem more frequent, more brutal, more necessary. I need to purge myself of the guilt for having considered what I did that dark night. I need to cut away the bad person. My skin is sore and marked, razor blades peel layers off, like a vegetable knife peels a carrot. I feel nothing. Blood pours to the floor, but there is no pain. A fleeting sting as the skin breaks, the only pain. Numb is the only way I can describe myself at the moment. I do not understand why I am drawn to do this to myself ? Violent thoughts intrude on my waking hours. A sarcastic voice, critical of any actions - "is that all you could manage?" rings out in my mind. A voice that narrates the images played in my head - images of a life past, images of life to come - who knows?

I have been troubled by these flashbacks and intrusive images for some time. I have been searching for a reason for them, why? why me? Why now? I see the little girl, she is lonely & sad. She is confused by the vicious behaviour of the grown ups who should have cared for her. I want to take care of her, but it is all too late. The damage is done, she is wounded.

Monday 1st March 2010

I don't like Monday's. Not only the title of one of my all time favourite songs, but also actually true.

Mondays should be a good day, the smallest one goes to nursery, the bigger 2 to school. Mr off to work. Me home alone - to catch up on rubbish telly or cook nutritious meals, to wash and to iron, but in the luxury of quiet. But that is not what Monday holds for me. Monday is therapy day. No one in the whole wide world, except Mr, knows that I am in therapy. Yes, she who looks after other people's children for a living, she who is a governor in a good school, she who presents a well groomed, calm appearance, she is in therapy. She has issues.

These issues are long standing and very deep rooted. I don't think they'll ever go away really. I have lost count of how many therapists I have seen over the years, all with their different ideologies and preconceptions. There was the one who didn't speak - who would let me sit in silence, for a whole session, then let me leave. The one, who when I said I didn't like the chairs, brought gym mats in for us to sit on. The one who would take me out to the garden so that he could have a fag while we talked. The person I am currently seeing is a nice lady. We are at the very beginning of our relationship. I suppose before telling someone your deepest darkest thoughts, you have to develop some sort of rapport with them. It amazes me that in a therapeutic situation that there is an assumption that you will *dive straight in with the good stuff* For me, the stuff that I need to share, has never left my head, so I am hardly going to shake a new persons hand, sit down and start right in.

We started today looking at some notes I had written. I find it very difficult to initiate a conversation about myself, so I fill in some sheets - I describe situations, rate my anxiety levels and note down my thoughts, reactions, responses. We then look at them. I do wonder if it will change anything. Will a conversation about how I can not cope with my children, how I feel I am a failure as a person, will it really take away my deep rooted loathing of myself - I don't think so to be honest. I have support from the CMHT, and it is part of my treatment that I attend. So Monday comes round, and everyone heads off to their business and I try and sort out my head. My mood is very low at the moment, I feel sad, on the edge of tears a lot of the time. My sleep is very disturbed, nights are long and dark, filled with thoughts of self harm and the self loathing that is never far away. I have to keep a sleep diary this week. I wonder if it will throw up any surprises?

I must now stop thinking about myself. I must put on my mask of normality. I must smile. Come on girl, SMILE.

27th - 28th February 2010

Well, another week has passed, a busy one at that. I have spent more time in schools than I have at home this week, with visits to the small folks school for displays of work, governors meetings and concerts, then to my school for work.

Someone I used to know has been diagnosed terminally ill this week. Cancer is an awful disease, it lurks around the corner, it's cruel hand reaching out randomly stealing lives. It has made me think of those I have lost, most importantly, my grandmother. She was a truly wonderful woman - a real lady, she only drank tea from a cup with a matching saucer, and was one of the loveliest people I have ever known. She grew up the daughter of shopkeeper and married her army sweetheart. She then followed him all over the world as he fought for our country, bringing up two children. She always had time for people and their problems. She listened and cared for anyone who needed her to listen. She would miss meals to feed others. The family sometimes laughed at her propensity for collecting lame ducks. The day she died, a little piece of me did too. My heart breaks that she never met my children - how she would have adored them. My little girl would have been the apple of her eye, spoilt rotten. My boys would have been able to do no wrong, they would have wrapped her round their little fingers. She adored my then boyfriend, now husband. She died 5 weeks before my wedding. She would be so proud of the business he has built and the way he is father to our children. I would give anything to pick up the phone and chat to her. To tell her my news, boring and mundane, but she would make it special and want to hear more. I really miss you nana.

Weekend 20th21st February 2010

And so the weekend arrives, no different to the rest of the week really! Mr was at work on saturday, and was out rabbiting and shooting on sunday. As a strict vegetarian, I am finding Mr's new found interest in shooting a little difficult to reconcile. I find any sort of violence towards animals abhorrent, however, it is not for me to dictate what others do & don't eat (apart from my offspring at present ;-) ) So, I have to weigh up whether, if Mr is going to eat meat, would I prefer him to be purchasing mass factory farmed products, where he has no input on the upkeep /slaughter etc, or is it better for him to pop out once a week and shoot himself a pigeon, trap a rabbit, which has lived a wild and free life? Obviously my ideal solution would be for him to become veggie, but that will never happen, so I wave him off on a sunday, and allocate him a drawer in the freezer, and that constitutes my total involvement!

We were out for a meal on saturday evening. I was really looking forward to this. A babysitter was organised and posh frock dusted off. We had checked with the hotel in advance that there was a vegetarian option, and were assured that there was. We arrived and met the other people we were dining with. Once seated, our starters arrived. The vegetarian option was a fan of melon with berry compote - a pretentious label for 2 small slices of melon and some defrosted berries. The main I knew was mushroom risotto, a favourite of mine. It arrived. It was smothered in parmesan cheese. I made Mr try the cheese, just to make sure, before summoning a waiter, who confirmed, yes, it was indeed parmesan. Any self respecting vegetarian knows that there is no such thing as vegetarian parmesan. The waiter removed my dinner and the manager appeared, making excuses that all the vegetarian meals had been prepared like this, and I had not said I was vegan. He emphasised, that he himself was vegetarian, but he ate cheese. I really did not want to begin an argument about cheese, so I very politely said, that I did eat cheese, but not those that are produced using process using calf rennet! They brought me another meal, cooked fresh which was delicious, however, all my table companions had finished eating before it arrived. The dessert course was a mousse, I felt the manager was testing my vegetarian principles by putting the gelatinous pud in front of me, and looking for a response! How rude!! I did not disappoint him, and said, thanks, but I know that I have a fruit salad ordered. When it arrived the fruit salad dessert was the starter - just chopped differently and served in a different dish. Thistle Hotel, you do not win marks for imagination in the veggie food department! It was lovely to have an evening away from small people, but the first thing I did when we got home, was to go round to their rooms and kiss each sleeping child.

Friday 19th February 2010

Friday! Again, it should be a work day, but half term provided an opportunity for a lie in! My elder children have both had growth spurts, and were both in need of new trousers. They requested we go to the large out of town shopping centre, not because of the range of clothes shops, but because of the presence of a Krispy Kreme Donut cafe! Their idea of a perfect treat - a donut & a fizzy drink. I am quite fierce about their diet, I am bringing all my children up to be vegetarian, as I truly believe it is a healthier way of eating. We eat mainly home cooked food, from fresh ingredients, very few desserts, their sweet treats generally being yoghurt or fruit. Hence the excitement at the prospect of a donut!

As we sat in the cafe munching processed sugar laden carbohydrates, I watched the people going past, all busy with their own lives. Mums with small children looking tired and harrassed, teenage girls in groups looking moody (and underdressed for the time of year!) Dads looking reluctant as partners marched forward purposefully. It was a snapshot of life. No time to stop, no time for talking, always moving, moving on. I sometimes crave a quieter life, a life away from the hustle and bustle. I would love to live away from town, and be more self sufficient than I am now. Unlikely in the near future, but it is nice to dream.

We made our purchases of blue jeans and pink jeans, the children both excited to go in changing rooms and try on a selection, with them being allowed the final choice in what was bought. We visited WH Smiths, and I bought the lasted copies of my favourite jewellery making magazines. I am looking forward to bed time, when I will put on my iPod and lay in bed planning all the lovely things I would like to make.

I enjoyed spending time with the children today, it was nice to be able to give them my undivided attention, instead of always having one eye on the youngest (he was at nursery today) They are growing so fast. No 1 son is 10 now, and beginning to develop an interest in the way he looks and dresses, my daughter is 7 and is still madly in love with all things pink, but is also beginning to be aware of fashion and looks. It was an expensive but rewarding day!

Thursday 18th February 2010

Thursday! Usually a work day for me, but half term brings the pleasure of unsetting the alarm and not leaving the house at 6:45 a.m. After a lay in until 8:30, after Lord GP had left for work, taking No 2 son to nursery (no half term for him!) I had the pleasure of my elder children's company for the day.

We loaded up the car and headed off to my school. Even though it is half term, I had work to do in the classroom, so we went together, armed with laminator and paper trimmer. The children were really helpful, they did the laminating and trimming and helped me create a new role play area for the classroom.

I always wanted to teach. From the age of 6 I never wavered in my choice of career (apart from a few weeks at 15, when hairdressing seemed appealing - exams were looming and a job that didn't require A levels appeared attractive!) when asked, I always said I wanted to be an infant teacher. I left school and went straight to university to complete a 4 year degree, resulting in a teaching qualification.

I have taught in many schools in the last 20+ years. My current school is in a very deprived area, with a high level of special needs (double the national average) and many other factors seen as disadvantages. I however, love working with children from deprived homes, they are curious, loving, fascinated, cheeky and fabulous - just as children from so called "well off" homes. The difference is that for the majority of my class, we are the stable factor in their life, often the only place that they go where there are boundaries and rules. They thrive in our setting, often starting as nervous tearful little people who blossom into confident, happy children, with a thirst for learning. I love the way they run to show you a leaf or a feather that they found on the way to school, the way they gaze at you, seeking approval for their actions. The endless questions about everything are a joy. The need for a hug or reassurance when things aren't going to plan serve as a reminder that they are individuals with their own needs and personalities.

As I watched my own children working together at the laminator, I wondered what path they would follow. My daughter already says she wants to be an infant teacher - completely unprompted by me! Given my own history, I can already see her in the classroom with small children adoring her. No 1 son is not so fixed on his career path yet. The only thing he is certain of is that he will be a Lifeboat Coxswain. His love of lifeboats is longstanding and deep. He is a fount of knowledge and trivia, and can always be relied on to provide a fact or factoid in quiet moments! No 2 son is too young to have expressed an interest in careers, his path as yet a mystery to be uncovered.

We finished the classroom, and went home for lunch. As a reward for their help, I bought them a dvd to watch this afternoon. I was really touched when I asked what treat they would like, my daughter said "You to sit with us and watch a film, with popcorn" I could not refuse! So the 3 of us had a lovely cuddle on the sofa, with our feet up, munching Butterkist. Sometimes motherhood is not so bad!

Wednesday 17th February 2010

I decided to be organised today. No lounging around with the children arguing in the background. We would go out. I booked tickets to the film club at the cinema, where you can see a recent, but not new film, for £2 per child with the adults going free. We made sandwiches, the 11 O clock start dictates that lunch must be eaten in the cinema. Crisps were emptied into plastic boxes, sandwiches cut into bite size pieces, there would be no rustling from our seats.

We arrived with minutes to spare - the cinema was in chaos. The electronic pre paid ticket dispensers were out of order *shock horror* the foyer was swarming with anxious parents, hurrying their offspring into various queues to get the much prized tickets. We were lucky, I spotted a short queue, and we made a dash for it - well no 1 son did - I trailed behind with the other 2.

We found our seats and within seconds the titles began. No 2 son, who is 3, is becoming so much better with public outings. He sat temporarily on his own seat, then transferred to my lap for the rest of the film. It was rather nice to hold his warm little person close, to have his sweet round face buried in my shoulder at a scary bit. He sucked his thumb and twirled my hair between his fingers - his beloved blankie being left at home. Sitting there, listening to his breathing, feeling the closeness between us, reminded me just how precious simple moments like these are. He begins school in September, and going on my experience of the older 2, our relationship will change then, for ever.

I thought of No 1 , and the haze of post natal depression which was his first year. A time when I came so close to killing us both. I can't believe that those thoughts ever visited my mind, but they did. Just as I emerged from the fog, I was expecting again. I felt absolutely ecstatic as they delivered my baby - I had never ever verbalised my desire to have a daughter, but there she was, perfect. After the trauma of PND first time round, I was watched like a hawk, medicated before delivery, not allowed to breast feed, my daughter and I spent many months before bonding. But No 2 son, a gift sent when we thought our family was complete, a gift to take away the demon of PND, to show me motherhood in a whole new light - and 3, nearly 4 years down the line, I can still revel in the power of a cuddle.

In fact, I could not tell you what the film was called, or what it was about. I was totally preoccupied with my children and the feelings that I have for each of them. All very different, very evocative, but totally absorbing. This overwhelming and all consuming love for them is on occasions a source of deep conflict for me- when depression and anxiety eat away at the mind & soul, when self doubt and insecurity creep in and undermine my whole being.

Walking out in the bright sunshine, with smiles all over their faces, we headed home, where they have laughed, cried, fought and played the afternoon away.

Tuesday 16th February 2010

It was a long night. No 1 son was up & down all night with a cough and cold, therefore I was up and down all night. As it happens I was awake anyway. I have long battled the demons and darkness that depression brings. I am currently in a low patch. Everything is tinged with a dark outline. Nothing brings me joy. At the back of my mind are thoughts which only get air time when my mood is low.

When you live with pain, you become very blase about it. It takes more and more to make you feel things. My physical pain is very intense at the moment. I am having to use 2 crutches to mobilise, everything is a chore. But things have to be done, and no one else will do them for me, so I have to get through that barrier, the "I can't". People stare at you when you use a disabled parking bay - you can see them stare, looking you up and down, taking in the crutches, the way I move. The crutches make it o.k. - she can't walk properly, she can park there. Everywhere, judgmental eyes - when I take too long at the till, because I can't grip the coins in my purse, if I drop something and can't bend to pick it up, watching me.

I would really like to be invisible. To go about my business, with no one looking, no one judging. I have to use painkillers in a patch form. Sometimes they are visible under my clothes, I wouldn't mind if people asked. I do mind if people stare.

Depression is an evil beast, but one I have lived with in different forms for so many years now, I think I would miss it if it went. It has made me the person I am today, for better or worse. At the moment I do not like myself at all, but, that is my problem, not yours. I have spent many years in therapy, many months in hospital, weeks / days / hours hating myself and all that I am. So I swallow my antidepressants, and paint a smile upon my face. Mum, wife, teacher, friend, so the days go by.

Monday 15th January 2010

Welcome to my blog. I am beginning this as a way of recording my thoughts, feelings and general musings on life. I am a mum of 3, who works part time as a primary school teacher. I battle the mundane in search of excitement, and am eternally seeking a feeling of true happiness and contentment. Why Guinea Pig Days? Because this is the stage we are at in our family life - guinea pigs, hamster, gerbils, fish - all needed, all obtained with promises of care, all left to mum now the novelty has worn off!

A reflection on Valentines Day. What a waste of time. We have been together nearly 25 years. I got a card. No small gesture - no single rose, no tiny but gorgeous chocolates, no romantic CD. I am an advertisers dream - show me it on tv, package it beautifully, and I want it. Didn't get it though. My 10 year old son is more romantic than his dad - the object of his innocent affections receiving a carefully chosen card and some chocolate ladybird *lovebugs* I won't be holding my breath for next year.

Half Term is upon us. We have a whole week of "What are we doing?" "What's next?" "Can I have...?" I have an extra child today, but the noise level seems to have doubled! They are playing hide and seek. The neighbours must think there are elephants in residence. I need to formulate a plan to get through this week with some level of sanity intact.