I wanted a baby for a long time before Astrid was born. Years of waiting (for various reasons), six months of trying followed by a miscarriage lead me to my pregnancy with Astrid. Consequently, I had the time. I was so ready for pregnancy. I was eating well and exercising regularly, I was even taking care of parts of my health I had previously not considered – looking at you Chiropractor and all-natural cleaning products. 

I felt empowered in pregnancy that I had control of giving my baby the best start in life. Upon admission to NICU, a kind consultant said to me that I had not caused Astrid’s perplexing symptoms and caused her to be so unwell. This was comforting and deep down, this is probably true, but feelings of guilt still overwhelm me at times. I had a body lotion that I used sometimes during pregnancy that contained vitamin A. I had it in my head that the few times I used the perfectly-safe moistuiser somehow caused my daughter’s illness. Safe to say I threw that bottle away as soon as we came home from the hospital. It was not the moisturiser, but getting rid of it felt symbolic for me that I would do everything in my power to ensure I was living as healthily as I could. Of course, this is how grief works. I am holding onto anything that gives me a little bit of control when everything else is so desperately not something I even have a say in. 

Something I want to do now is, prepare my body for another baby. But I face another roadblock, or perhaps just a speed bump. I had a pretty major cesarean, it was an emergency, it took a lot longer than normal, it was more ‘forceful’ than usual and I had a pretty big scar to symbolise. The bending during NICU and walking that long corridor so soon after had taken its toll too. I was told 16 weeks before I would be able to get back to exercise. I’m halfway through that now and starting to feel a little stronger. But still, due to some complications in my recovery, I’m simply not well enough to exercise. I’m getting there but a long way off from feeling like my body could support much more than walk around the shops. It is hard. 

While I’m not able to be physically active in the way I hope, I’m finding other ways to feel like my body is getting the R&R it rightfully deserves. While at the hospital with Astrid and in the weeks after we came home with an empty carseat, eating felt a necessary but unenjoyable task. I knew it was important to eat somewhat well and enough, but I took no pleasure in it. I’m getting back to my foodie ways and finding that I am starting to want a certain meal again and able to plan a few days meals in advance. Progress.