A disappointment

When William was 6 months old we went for the first time to what is officially called 'Toddler Group'. In our house it is called 'Deaf playgroup'. Because that's what it is. Playgroup for deaf kids, kids with hearing aids, and cochlear implants. Kids who communicate through sign language.

It was hard. I didn't want to be there, I didn't want a deaf kid. I didn't want to learn sign language, I didn't want my kid to have to. I didn't want to hear what the other Mums had to say. I wasn't interested in how it was going to get better, how successful their kids were, how 'normal' life could, in fact, be.

But we persevered. And it did get better. And William did achieve and develop. And life does, more often than not, have a semblance of normality about it. There was one Mum in particular that helped me a lot. That very first day, she was the only one who talked to me. She asked how I felt, how my partner felt, my parents, his parents. She discussed tests with me, told me her story. She made me feel welcome and comfortable and most importantly, she made me realise that life goes on. That this wasn't the end.

And deaf playgroup became a wonderful thing. It was first thing on a Monday morning, it got us up and out the house. It was a 30 minute walk so it got me exercising and in the fresh air. William adored being there and socialising with the other children. For a long time Monday afternoons were the only day he would nap for 2 hours. It was part of our routine and we loved it.

And then the Government had to make cuts. The NHS had to make cuts. Playgroup is every other week now, somewhere new. On paper it's just a different children's centre in a different area, fortnightly instead of weekly.

To us, it is now two buses or a 20 minute walk and then a bus to get there. It takes 50 minutes.
The room it is in is upstairs. I have to leave my pushchair outside, even in the rain. I have to carry our bags and William up 2 flights of stairs.
The room is much smaller. Today there were 6 children, all William's age and it was crowded.
There are leaflets at a reachable level so the kids can pull them off and get in trouble for it.
There is no kitchen to make a cup of tea, just a shelf for the juice that again the kids can reach and again get in trouble for spilling.
It's on every other Tuesday, so if you miss one week, it's a whole month between playgroups.

These all might sounds silly or small. But they make it harder. And combined they make it hardly worth my while. I am pregnant and tired, if I am going to travel 50 minutes somewhere and the same home, it has to be worth it. And today just made me feel like it no longer is. Which is a real shame because it used to be the highlight of our week. And I really would have liked to have given the support that Mum gave me to another Mum with a newly diagnosed deaf baby.

Have budget cuts affected you and your family? How does it make you feel?

Pushing my luck. Or not, as the story goes.

Earlier this week I talked about compromising my principles since becoming a parent because of lessons learnt, or sometimes just to get through the day.

This week has been a really good week. Will and I have had fun, napped during the day and slept well in the night. There have been very few cross words and even fewer tantrums. I put this down to one thing. I have finally learned the biggest lesson of them all.

Do Not Push Your Luck.

I have always pushed my luck. I would work until I burned out. Party until I burned out harder. Expected more from my body, mind, emotional and mental health than any of them could give. And no matter how many times I found myself on the edge, I would always go back and do it again. And again.

Pregnancy was no different. I was determined that being pregnant wasn't going to change my life. I still went out late, away for weekends, worked, exercised, baked, hosted parties, pushed myself to my limits. And my mental health suffered. Big time.

And then when Will was born, I continued along the same path. I could have listened to my body, my mind, my emotional breakdowns. But I continued to push myself. And continued to suffer for it.

I don't know what changed. Or when it changed. Or how it changed. But I have finally cracked it. Well that is clearly actually a lie but I am on the way to cracking it.

Yesterday we went *into town to get my fringe cut. We arrived at 10 and the hairdressers were all on training until 11. So do you know what I did? I came home. Because 11.30 is nap time. So the hairdressers at 11 would have been pushing my luck. I did not push my luck. And even though I spent £8 on transport for NO reason, even though I got the wrong bus home and had to get off after one stop and walk back, even though we didn't get into bed for our nap until 12.30, I did not lose it. I did not get upset or stressed or short tempered. We had a fun morning travelling followed by a nap, followed by a lovely afternoon at home together. All because we made it home in time for our nap. All because I did not push my luck.

This is a very big deal for me. A very big deal indeed. And I hope you don't mind if I give myself just a little pat on the back.


*this in itself is pushing my luck really. The London transport system is not overly pushchair friendly and its a 45 minute trek. But alas, vanity prevailed.