Monthly Archives: September 2012

So I’ve got this single mother thing wrapped up. I pay my bills on time, I own a car, (and it’s appropriately taxed and insured), I wash school uniforms, cook healthy food, and do the girls homework. Not to mention I’m in the final year of my degree, I spend time with friends, I date, I ring my elderly Aunt every so often to check she’s all right. I’m coping, I’m doing it…like a million other women out there.

But sometimes a good old wallow in self pity at the loneliness of it all does you good. I found this song and downloaded the album. It’s so heartbreakingly beautiful it’ll have to be reserved for the really bad days … Otherwise I’d probably just give it all up, let the kids eat cocopops in front of the TV and stay in bed drinking cheap wine and writing really bad poetry (a forte of mine)


Early labour

I love this woman! Another fantastic article. I particularily liked this quote:

“The woman has begun the birth process. She has her signal to seek a safe place – help her do this.”

Sums it up really


Updated: February 2018

This post is about early labour and the mixed messages women are given about this important part of the birthing process.

Defining the indefinable

The concept of ‘early’ or ‘latent’ labour emerged as a result of the birth process being broken down into stage and phases – the diagnosis of which relies on clinical assessments of contraction pattern and cervical dilatation. The notion of being able to determine the future progress of labour from such clinical assessments is not supported by research, yet it underpins maternity care. What research does show is that concepts of stages and phases of labour does not align with women’s perception and assessment of their own birth process (Gross et al. 2009; Dixon et al. 2012; Reed et al. 2016)

In addition ‘early’ is only ‘early’ with hindsight. At one point in time (the clinical diagnosis of…

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The Cochrane Review – Planned Home Birth vs Planned Hospital Birth

While slightly disappointed that the evidence base fell short of generating any recommendations for practice. The following passage is welcomed none-the-less:

“It seems increasingly clear that impatience and easy access to many medical procedures at hospital may lead to increased levels of intervention which in turn may lead to new interventions and finally to unnecessary complications. In a planned home birth assisted by an experienced midwife with collaborative medical back up in case transfer should be necessary these drawbacks are avoided while the benefit of access to medical intervention when needed is maintained. Increasingly better observational studies suggest that planned hospital birth is not any safer than planned home birth assisted by an experienced midwife with collaborative medical back up, but may lead to more interventions and more complications.”

Money, Money, Money!


After a week with 26p in the bank and the petrol gauge on red… a welcome text from Student finance!

Bringing up two children on a students income is hard work. Its not necessarily the lack of money, I can budget. But balancing the ebb and flow of income, which changes from month to month from five different tributaries, with the outgoings that pour steadily out of my account month after month can be tricky.

Needing to replace my car last month emptied the emergency funds, meaning that an admin error at the Student Finance left the bank balance dry.

So todays text means I can sleep tonight knowing I can actually pay the rent on Monday!

The birth of a new life

On the 14th of December 2011, sitting down at 2pm, I realised I was on my own.

A fact that was mindblowingly exciting, even through the haze of diminishing rage. An hour early I had discovered that my partner of ten years and the father of my two children was, despite his assurances to the contrary, still fucking his 19 year old mistress.

Sitting dry-eyed on our bed, still trembling with adrenaline and amid half empty drawers and wardrobes, I felt a bubbling sense of freedom.

I had a mere £15 in our joint account, a four bedroom house with thousands of pounds in mortgage arrears, a beat up 11 year old Mondeo (on its last legs and registered to him) and two small girls oblivious to the catastrofuck that had now become our lives. But through the hurt, the humiliation and the heartbreaking pain the overriding emotion was excitement.

Excitement that I could be who I wanted to be, excitement that I could steer my life in any direction, excitement that I would no longer have to compromise my existence for the happiness of someone else.

And so the story of my life began… my only regret being that I hadn’t had the sense to do it sooner.