║today my way║: 30 day challenge

thoughts on things, writing, todaymyway.com

It is emotionally useful this free time I can load up with both of my hands day in day out is spent on most vivid imagery. On things I wouldn't dream of contemplating. In peaceful or totally opposite surroundings I win the impossible and call my day entirely mine in activities I spend time on, food I sample, books I happen to bring along with me. Total bliss with a company as an option. If you strapped me to an office chair and promised to come back before five in the afternoon, my sanity would never be restored. I would toss and turn, ignore the phone calls and daily duties knowing I could dare doing things no 9 to 5 job will ever offer under any circumstances.

So here I am sitting politely on the leather couch hugged by the clan of cushions behaving like children waiting for the story to begin, lifting my head up towards the rays of sun emerging from short rainpour clouds and drawing unimaginable shapes on the cracks of wooden tables. My favourite part of the day - retreating back to my notes and a glass of water after I've had a delicious burger in a place teeming with noise while being seduced by the sound of a coffee machine working its gears off. People take turns in laughing and clattering dishes, I'm on my fifth page scribbled in barely recognizable handwriting and the life goes on like sweet melting toffee (I'm actually considering ordering a mug of flavoured coffee drink so excuse my food comparisons). It's been a while since I tackled this blogging challenge commenced back in days when time was spent alongside running toddler - to answer 30 questions as reliably and promptly as a blogger can and call it a day. Easy task became a little too difficult to accomplish, some thoughts wouldn't flow so well as my audience would expect so I backed out. This time I'm eager to tell you what I'm looking forward to right now. And I could immediately answer that it would be nice to wake up to a summer sun for a change or a couple of new season's deliveries of clothes and sandals in imitation leather but in fact I'm totally looking forward to this and do hold me accountable: I just want to start. Place my fingers on the wheel of life and let it lead me precisely onwards. And as realistic as it sounds it's completely crazy in every way things naturally happen. People win the lottery and find the love of their lives queuing in a job center so I'm inclined to say - things do happen. I'll tell you, hold me accountable.

P.S. You do know I'm insanely looking forward to summer in Poland in case this post leaves you concerned.

(And I want to decorate my house.)

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10/30 - MY BEST FOUR YEARS, IF YOU ASK ME

Don't mind me making my baby little older when I say about four year motherhood experience and joy it brings. I wanted to share my birth story at some points during my virtual existence but it never seemed right or thought out enough so I didn't. Until now. After four years of a being mum. Her mum.

I knew I wanted to have children even prior to my ovaries producing any eggs (maybe I exaggerate a little but that's so true, I was a mama before I knew it). Growing older I imagined having large family of at least four (!) heirs/heiresses (was it an influence of being The Kelly Family fan?) and most ideally having son as my first born. Little Staś (Stanislav) would be a resemblance of my brother with his blonde locks and deep blue eyes chasing his shadows on the polished floors of my house. I fell in love with my husband and it would feel obvious that we'd have had child(ren) straight away. But through our foreign journeys, settling down abroad and generally getting ready for the life ahead together we spent six years as a twosome. This is a long time for somebody who loves children and hoped to have their own. We kind of hibernated and postponed the most beautiful outcome of a natural human (in love) behaviour. I tend to blame it on the circumstances we were surrounded by - renting a room or having a studio flat was not a proper accommodation to raise a child.

Trying for a baby and getting pregnant within two weeks or so of trying was beyond amazing. We just got married and wanted to fill up the air with giggles and our hearts with unconditional love for the life we were about to create. I was madly in love with all the signs of expecting - I looked out for tenderness in my breasts and popping out belly button (which in fact never did, big deal). I laughed at every hiccup within my growing body and chased each move of a serious kick. I didn't mind stretch marks (not so sure now) or leg cramps, even heartburn was okay. They all come and go. I was invincible, my body was determined to perform as its best to bring me the most wonderful miracle I could ever dream of. Soon after my pregnancy status was confirmed I had a premonition I was carrying a little doll. Teenage longing for a son has been replaced by an unimaginable yearning to put every effort in raising a happy, strong (not mistaken for stubborn), spreading creative juices girl. Seems strange after years of picturing myself savouring tight gripped hugs of a boy, combing his golden locks and go flying kites in the clear sky. I guess it's got a lot to do with me preserving moments of my early childhood in a girlie notebook thanks to emotionally drained at times conversations with my mum about a whirlwind of good and adverse affairs which have created my first perception of how to communicate with the world and others and which made me a chatty, happy and smart little girl no matter what was happening around. I wrote about that girl in an attempt of giving her much delayed approval and support. So I guess I've fallen in love with the idea of being given an opportunity of having a little girl myself and taking up every second of my time to make up for all the things my upbringing has lacked and many more beautiful things that has been brought along with it.

At first I wanted to be surprised by the baby's sex (I felt we humans live in a world of wanting/needing predictability in every area of our lives so we keep surprises to a freaking minimum. Even weather is no longer a surprise these days.) I decided - we would meet our muffin the day it will be ready to maximize space in my belly. The evening before the twenty week scan when we could find out the sex I took a warm bath. At the back of my head I was still battling with myself whether getting to know the sex would be a good decision. And then I felt it for the first time, a tiny move, not even a kick (those she left for later), just like a scuff on the side. Did she know what was going on in my head so she could react to it, help me make up my mind, let me know she wanted to be greeted tomorrow and talked to with female adjectives? Why wouldn't I want to find out when I had the greatest opportunity to do so? I was overjoyed to soon get to know my baby: what would she look like, when will her personality show through? So I found out who was poking me right from within saying 'hello'. A mummy's girl, Little Pumpkin as I used to call her when she stayed safe, close (and hiccupy). The happiest and most challenging 40 weeks of my life abounded in sweet Nutella taste, laughter from tiniest of things, no sickness at all (thank you, Heavens!) and filling up wardrobe with dresses and tops of one tenth of my size. I stopped working two weeks before I got to see my feet again to nice lazy fortnight of pacing slowly around the house and close neighbourhood in the low streaks of late September sun. Name chosen, hospital bag packed, birth plan memorized.

A birth story cut short (for the space purposes): on baby's due date everything started as described in books for frightened mamas preparing for the eventful moment. My waters broke, contractions were getting stronger and more and more closer apart. Impatiently waiting for hospital admittance in a bath tub full of warm water to speed up the progress of labor as advised by the midwife I actually found myself to feel the urge to push. And so it started... in my own bathroom. I barely got dressed between two-three minutes apart contractions, jumped on the rear seat of my car (jumped, ha! you wish) and was driven to the hospital to meet my baby girl. We made it to the delivery room on time, an hour later (yes, most of the labor happened in my bath tub which left me really cross with the English system of keeping women at home as long as possible to avoid long labors on the spot. The positive outcome of nearly having her delivered at home? No epidural (just gas and air, rarely used), no episiotomy, quick and natural (no forceps or vacuum) delivery. I shouldn't be so ungrateful after all) at 1.31 pm I held her for the first time. Physically exhausted and surgically abused (stitched) I've started a new chapter in my life. Nadia Dolores has proven to be worth the pain, tears and dizziness (gas and air). She was there to get entwined with hugs, kisses and mama's first whispers into tiny ears.

I've spent the best four years of my life with you, little Miss Nadia. x

^^ This post is part of my 30 day Blogging challenge asking simple question whether the participant wants to have children or if has any. As I've already answered this question before, I thought a little story about a miracle being materialized in my arms is an unexpected but sweet option for a post. Do you agree? ^^

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