All in Hard Truths

The one about anger.

I’ve been a right bitch the last few months. If my middle brother were reading this he’d yell at me for using that word. But he can barely read my text messages so I’m pretty sure he’s not reading my blogs. If you don’t like that word here are some others - an arse hole, a cow, a meanie, a bully, a butt face, a shit head, a knob, a general boob. All I’m trying to say is I think I’ve just been a bit of a horror to live with lately.

The one about my fear.

I’ve been spending more time with my own mother recently. She’s (kindly) been spending one day a week with the Tiny Dictator while I work from home. Though, lately, I’ve been escaping to the office. Partly because of commitments there, but mostly because I can’t spend any more time with my mother.

The one about holidays.

This past weekend, we flew up to Byron Bay for a friend’s wedding. I’ve been looking forward to it for months – one, because who doesn’t love any excuse to frock up and celebrate love, and two, because since going back to work, we haven’t had a single holiday (not counting Christmas break with the in-laws visiting, just 3 weeks after moving into our new apartment).

The one about the village.

When I was three months pregnant, my husband and I moved in with my parents. We did this for a few reasons, but one of the big ones was that I couldn’t work while I was pregnant and needed a lot more help being a human than usual. My baby is now four months old and we’re looking to buy a new place and leaving the safety of my parents’ home. As anyone who’s ever done any kind of house hunting will tell you, it’s a clusterfuck of hideousness - but aside from all that it’s got me thinking.

The one about our birth stories.

Neall: Did you have a birth plan?

Caitlin: HA. Birth plan. What a funny joke. I’m amazed by people who have them but my whole birth plan was to actually make it to the birth. HG had me convinced that I wouldn’t make it to that blessed day and if I did? Well, then the best thing I could do would be to just try to survive and make sure my baby got here safely. The rest was gravy …

The one with the feminists.

In November 2016, I was 7 months pregnant and watched, with absolute disbelief as Trump was named POTUS. Not nearly 12 months later, the accusations against Harvey Weinstein came to light, and the things every woman has known about, felt, or experienced firsthand - at the hands of men - became part of the public discourse ...

The one about indecision.

I recently read this New York Times article about the very modern fear of becoming a parent. It delves into the reasons behind this fear - indecision, financial insecurity, memories of your own difficult childhood - and examines the new services springing up to help struggling singles and couples make up their minds.

The one about the female body.

I'm not totally sure I've ever properly had a relationship with my body. Maybe, if pressed, I'd say I had mostly a neutral or beige relationship with my skin suit. Like, it houses my consciousness - which I adore it for - but beyond giving a home to everything that makes me a human I don't pay it much mind …