Is this PTSD?

Before life hit the fan, crying wasn’t something that I did unless a pet or loved one died. But since then, crying has become almost part of the daily routine. All sorts of cries. Happy cries, sad cries, angry cries, in shock cries, cries about rhino poaching (okay been crying about that one for years and years), annoyed cries, work cries, cries when I thought there was ice cream in the freezer but someone ate it… as I write this I’m really hoping someone else can relate else I may have to delete this post ha. But the list goes on…

Like when I see dads with their babies. How was my judge of character so poor?

When I see my legal fees. Again, how was my judge of character this poor. Self disappointment is almost as bad as parent disappointment. Note to all mothers – do NOT put the sperm donors name on your child’s birth certificate. Especially if you have an inkling that they will only ever be ‘the sperm donor’.

You know, men have the easiest job in the world. Have sex. I mean it’s not a great accomplishment. Even barnacles can do it. And they are much more impressive than humans because obvs they are stuck in one spot so the man barnacle has to get his penis to all the woman barnacles around him which means that ehem he must be a pretty impressive barnacle. Don’t think I really need to explain that men do not need to be impressive in the same way that barnacles do, to impregnate women accidentally. Not. Impressed.

Feel to cry when I see pregnant women, rubbing their tummies and looking sooo content. So excited. Has anyone truly explained to them what is to come? Obviously the answer to that must be no. They probably think that this will be a 50:50 deal…Mom does half the work and dad does half the work. Haha, poor things. Soon they will learn the real deal and I will be there for them if they need to vent, to cry, to talk.

Feel to cry when we see dogs giving birth at work because I feel traumatised all over again and my co-workers give me that look that you have when you’ve just watched a horror movie and you think you see a figure in the corner of the room and you’re trying to convince yourself that is is definitely not a soucouyant but a small piece of you definitely thinks it is. So you just lay there in still terror and remind yourself that if it calls your name DO NOT ANSWER IT. That’s how I think they look at me. Is this PTSD?

When my son pees on my brand new EXPENSIVE mattress, draws with crayons on the wall in the second no one is looking so your dad thinks it’s a great idea to put stain remover on the wall and then accidentally scrubs off all the paint. When my son rolls around on the sidewalk of Clapham Common and refuses to get up for 15 minutes and everyone passing by or parked in their cars is laughing. Then he runs into a tiny book store straight behind the counter to a horrified cashier and I chase after him with poor Skye dragging not far behind, his shoes have flown off, the pram and everything else is left outside and everyone in the whole of Clapham probably thinks I’m a terrible mother but really he doesn’t usually behave this badly. Just the entire time we are ever in London... and…okay fine maybe he does behave like this often. Times like this i can’t even cry just burst into embarrassed, uncontrolled hysterics so now I not only look like a terrible mother, I look like a crazy terrible mother. Sigh. There’s no winning lol.

Feel to cry when a really lovely client finds you on facebook and sends the nicest message thanking you for your help because as vets, we are so accustomed to getting complaints! This is a good sort of crying feeling though. Then you wonder whether you’re just an emotional wreck but really you’re just getting your period soon and it all makes sense now.

BUT DON’T WORRY. It’s not all about feeling to cry though thank Christ. We laugh a lot too.

We laugh when the child bursts out with random words that are 100% British and you know it’s either from nursery (hopefully) or watching too much peppa pig (which we are less hopeful about) so you make a conscious effort to decrease the amount of peppa pig and increase the paw patrol because I’m not even gonna pretend that my child is not living in this world of technology just like the rest of us are. Yes, he still goes outside and plays. Yes, he still reads loads of books. But also yes, he’s starting to sound a little tiny bit like peppa pig.

We laugh at each other’s laughs when there’s a tickle fiesta. When he calls very upset aunties “uncles” which for some reason is just so funny. When he mocks me with his eye rolling and babbling conversations but somehow does sound and look just like me.

We however most certainly do not laugh when a bad word slips out of your mouth because you bumped your head on the car door frame the 3rd time that day while putting them in the car seat and they mimic you so precisely with the exact tone and expression you put into accidentally saying that one stupid little word. And all you can think is, damn it what have I done. So you go into the drivers seat and laugh in silence with your face completely covered because they CANNOT know that it’s remotely funny else this will become a game and I will definitely get a phone call from nursery about it.

BUT the pure joy and love that they bring to your life that you never knew even existed…the love that keeps you going on no sleep and no social life…it’s a love to be cherished. Because it actually is such a blessing to have this little human existence, no matter how much you resisted it at first. No matter how scary it was or how much it has changed your life or how much your life will never ever be the same. It’s a crazy miracle which is impossible to wrap your head around. I’ve studied science. I’ve seen many animal births and I perform c-sections often. Yet I look at my child (and my dog) and I just wonder how such perfection exists. How can these two beings have come from two cells. And it is BEYOND me. There HAS to be a God out there. God of the universe is what I’ll call him or her. And what an amazing being they must be to allow such incredible things to be created out of two tiny cells.

Realising that I’m sounding more and more crazy as this blog progresses. Should I be worried? I feel like yes is the answer. To that question.

These are my angels.

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