Buy Me a Coffee?

I've set up a "buy me a coffee" page. Feel a bit rude telling people, but I need the money. It exists. If you like what I do and want to help out, there's a link. Thanks. I'm working mostly on writing and aerial, and it's hard to make a living that way but my health has reached a point it feels like the only viable option. So wish me luck!

Broken finger makes it harder to create new aerial content (I am working on it, but while supporting healthy recover). I've written a little bit of flash fiction to go live on Friday. Here's a few photos I've taken recently that I hope make you smile today.

I Defiantly See Wrinkles as Evidence of Shared Joy.

I never expected to be stood here today. Deep inside, I think I believed Granny would live forever. Of course, it would be unfair to wish immortality on another person, but Granny wasn’t just any other person: she was a force of life, an avatar of kindness, love and compassion. Cultures around the world have concepts of deities of life and as far as I can find, none take the form of an elderly lady, yet what greater celebration of the glory of life is there than the elderly matriarch with the family she loves?

I felt her love wrapped tight around me as she held me close when homesickness had induced a meltdown in me (I was 4 and staying away from home for the first time and Grandad had given me Ribena in the wrong cup and the world ended – and instead of being cross or impatient, she wrapped my in herself until I was ok again). I taste it every time I drink sweet, weak, milky tea – the cure she gave me for the shock of falling in an icy puddle. I watched it flowing from her, filling the room, the house, the whole world as she held my son for the first time, gazed at his little baby face. Her great-grandchild, and far from her first but still given that same awe-filled adoration as if he were her only child, a glowing protection he will carry with him always, even if he doesn’t know it.

She taught me a lot about how to move through a world that can feel unbearably hard at times. I remember her telling me you grow into the face you deserve: if you face the world with a smile, your face will reflect that. It is a hard lesson, but I think of it whenever I find myself struggling through a hard time. I remember that Granny, too, faced difficulties, faced incredibly painful things, and that she did so with love. I remind myself I want to earn my wrinkles, my kind face, and so I set myself to finding the small, shared joys. Whenever I think of her, I think of the smiles drawn deep into her face.

 

I read this at my Granny's funeral. I waited outside with a few other family as the hearse came round. Pink roses were strewn over the wicker coffin - beautiful and just right, yet how could my kind, vibrant Granny be in there? She was carried in, and we followed. 

I don't have words for the ceremony, but hearing how full her life was, and seeing people nod to my words has helped start me healing.

My husband and son didn't come to the ceremony, but instead spent time with my cousins' wives and children. They joined us at the pub after, the kids running around at everyone's feet, laughing and playing. The older generations, we talked and ate and reminisced - and smiled at the children.

The flowers were brought over, with the thought everyone could take some home. Pink roses, to match her favourite plant in her garden. The children used them as wands, casting silly spells on us all. Full of joy and life, like Granny. She'd have loved that.

 

Rambles

It feels strange to write here, like I have to pretend I'm not in mourning when I am, or like I have to pretend I'm so deep in mourning that nothing else exists.

And neither's true. Both are true. It's never as simple as black and white; when we think that way, we don't just miss the shades of grey, but a full spectrum of colour.

Going through this bereavement with an understanding that I am autistic and have ADHD helps me understand a lot more about how I have handled (and not handled) grief in the past. It's still a tangled mess in my head; I might find the words one day but at the moment I'm still getting the sense and shape of it.

And this isn't where I wanted to go with my writing here today.

I've been rediscovering my tactile creative side: Ziggy (who now prefers Zigzag as a nickname. He says Zigzag is his Blood Bowl name, and his real name has been relegated to his "other name") let me play with his air-dry clay and I can see that becoming a real hyperfixation if I let it. It was pleasurable to mold the clay, and the ways it shaped surprised me. Waiting for our projects to dry so we can decorate them.

The anthology I'm published in is out in paperback here. I don't get royalties or commission or anything, but I am excited to share it.

What did I want to talk about today? I want to share my joy in the Exalted I'm playing in. I'm back in Second Age Exalted as envisiged by Rich, playing Taji alongside Bells as her twin brother, Kito. I love the relationship between the twins - I really enjoy having a close relationship with another PC. And there's wonderful relationships with the NPC's too, and they are different for each twin. Kito is terrified of Taji's lunar mate, for instance, yet Taji is utterly and deeply in love with him. She knows he's dangerous, but sees him as guardian rather than threat. Then there's the Emissary, a character from the meta but taken into his own by our GM, a friend and mentor - even a father figure - for the twins, supporting them individually as well as guiding them together. I really enjoy the depth of character Rich has created for each of the major NPC's, whether entirely his creation, or inspired by characters named in the book. The love, the fear, the laughter. It's an important part of TTRPG campaigns for me: it's the relationships that keep bringing me back.

I want to offer that to my Hunter group, help them build the bonds between the PC's and give them friendships, meaningful relationships outside as well. I want to give them the ties to make them fight harder...

I'm not sure how to do this, and I won't know what I need to learn until I've tried.

First session hopefully in Feb. Got to confirm and finalise a date.

Wish me luck!

Ru Rainbow

My Granny died on New Year's Eve. I have so much I want to say, but right now the grief is too huge so all I can manage is a photo.

Busy Writing

Cloaked Press have released the cover art for the anthology my story is being included in.

Isn't that beautiful? I'm really excited about it. The kindle version is already available for pre-order. I'll keep you posted regarding the physical copy too.

And also about their next anthology, Depths of Love: My Enemy. I'm not a fan of the "enemies to lovers" trope (although one of my favourite love stories in any TTRPG I've played in is probably Taji and Fury, and it's definitely got enemies to lovers vibes), so it was challenging to try and write for it, and the first idea I had, I just couldn't find an entry point that worked for me (it's an idea I'm going to keep in the back of my mind, though, because I still think it's got potential). The story I eventually submitted arrived in a rush and includes a poem, a playground-rhyme style, which is also way out of my comfort zone. And they accepted it, and that made me really happy.

And then I wrote another piece for their Spring into Sci Fi collection, and I think it's the first piece I've written where I've felt as though, if it isn't accepted it's not because it's bad writing, its because it's not right for this collection. It's a decent bit of writing, and someone will want it. That's a really good feeling.

I'm working on a short story about a small group of orcs. As I write, I'm realising so much about them. Did you know orcs are blue blooded, and that across all orc culture it is taboo to eat other blue blooded creatures? It means they feel that all red bloods - the humans, the dwarves etc - are kinda dirty because they eat other red blooded creatures. This makes me think I'll write more in their world.

Things are going well in my writing world at the moment. That's not to say things are easy in general, but I'm glad to have one area where things feel good. I've got a lot of ideas and the fact I can find dedicated writing time means so much.

Aerial and life update

The strongest image I have of myself at the moment is a phoenix egg. I burnt down to ashes, and now I'm working on my rebirth. Eggs and hatchlings are extremely vulnerable, and I'm trying to protect myself to ensure my rebirth is successful and my next phoenix-stage thrives. I'm doing what I can, and the rest relies on external factors.

Hello, my name is Fern, and I'm surviving.

Life is hard for nearly everyone at the moment. If you're struggling, you're not alone. I see you. I care.

Aerial is one of the ways I'm looking after myself. I preferred hoop (lyra) when I started circus, but during lockdown, when I spent so much time playing in fabric because I was limited to what I had at home (I have borrowed a hoop, but its heavy and the toddler - who has recently informed me he wants to be known as Zigzag rather than Ziggy when I talk about him online - prefers the hammock), something in me clicked with the fabric, and now I love both equally. When things opened up more and I started teaching again, I'm not teaching far more silks than hoop, and I'm loving it.

Have some photos. Here is proof I have potential to be ok. 

 

Look after yourself. Look after your tribe. Be safe, keep going.

Happy Hallowe'en

On the day of the dead, when the year too dies,
Must the youngest open the oldest hills
Through the door of the birds, where the breeze breaks.
There fire shall fly from the raven boy,
And the silver eyes that see the wind,
And the light shall have the harp of gold.

By the pleasant lake the Sleepers lie,
On Cadfan’s Way where the kestrels call;
Though grim from the Grey King shadows fall,
Yet singing the golden harp shall guide
To break their sleep and bid them ride.

When light from the lost land shall return,
Six Sleepers shall ride, six Signs shall burn,
And where the midsummer tree grows tall
By Pendragon’s sword the Dark shall fall.

Y maent yr mynyddoedd yn canu,
ac y mae’r arglwyddes yn dod. 

 

 ~ Susan Cooper, The Dark Is Rising series

I love this poem so much. I don't know exactly why, but from the very first time I read that opening line, I was hooked. Every Hallowe'en, it rises unbidden and I must seek it out and read it again. I'm certain I've shared it here before, but have it again. And if you haven't read the series it's from, go! Go now, and find Over Sea, Under Stone and read it. I know it's meant for children and it's mostly adults who read my book, but go read it now with your child eyes. I hope it stirs something in you like it did me.

 

It's the third book in the series, The Green Witch, that captivates me the most. The dream-like sequence with Jane under water with the witch. It haunts me. 

 

I love liminal things, being at the edges. I love to stand on the sand with the sea washing my toes, or dipping them into the stream beneath the trees, or to stand in the depths of a woodland, at the boundary between civilisation and wildness, between reality and possibility.

 

I've always felt a very liminal person. Today is the day of the dead, the day the veil thins and we can almost caress our dead loved ones. Death, being dead, has always frightened me. One part of my brain accepts that after death comes nothingness, a lack of existence, and that terrifies me more than I can bear. But I have other parts of me too, and I have learnt to let them talk, to let them soothe the fear so I can still breathe, still think. Parts of me that aren't afraid of death, but fascinated by it. Parts of me that wish they could be a Ferryman.

 

To try and help me deal with my fear of my own mortality, my Dad explained to me that one of the roles of the Hindu Goddess I was named for, my middle name, Kali, is death, is a psychopomp. The word appealed to me: a spirit or other divine being who guides a soul from one life, one state of being, to the next (that I, a white western woman, am named with Celtic and Hindu influences, is something I sometimes feel I need to address for concerns of cultural appropriation. I will leave it, for fear of overexplaining, with that a dear friend of my mother is Hindu).

 

I'd like to be both a doula and a death doula, someone who spends time with a person entering the world, and leaving it. I think it's why the Witches are my favourite Discworld characters: I immediately understood that was a role of theirs.

 

Hallowe'en is a day for reflecting on death, and Death, and other worlds. It's a day for considering who we are, and who we want to be. Death in Tarot doesn't necessarily mean the end of life, rather it represents change, the end of a stage. It is paired with the hope of rebirth, in some form.

 

Covid has shifted the world, and the world is trying to realise itself again. It could go in many directions. Some of the most hopeful have already been closed off, but at my core I'm an optimist.

 

I've always felt in a liminal state, torn between possibilities. I feel as though I may be starting to peel through them to find the balance point, the place where I'm meant to be.

Dream come true!

Really short post because I'm too excited to focus. That short story I said I'd submitted? It got accepted!

I was anticipating rejection. I knew I liked the story, but I didn't know if it was good enough - imposter syndrome dogs my footsteps in most aspects of my life. I would have been happy with a rejection, though; proof I had taken a step out of my comfort zone, that I'd taken a risk towards achieving one of my deepest wishes. That shift in mindset alone was reward enough.

Cloaked Press accepted it. It will be published in December, in a collection called "Winter of Wonder: Fauna 2022". I will of course be sharing a link when I have one.

I have to keep reminding myself it's just a short story: I feel like I've won the lottery.

It feels so good, like the hard work starts here, and the hard work will be worth it.

I can be a writer.

I Miss My Mum

There is a lot going on in my life at the moment. I had to leave care even though I enjoyed it: I was so stressed that my eyebrows fell out. Several times. And one of them looks like a normal eyebrow (but not the bushy eyebrow had before), and the other is slowly returning.

Diagnosis: stress-induced localised alopecia.  Eyebrows, head hair (I lost a third of it last time we moved house and a third of it there), leg hair.

I gave myself a fringe.

I'm waiting for formal diagnosis of autism. I'm on the second waiting list: the first waiting list was 6 months long and getting that interview confirmed I am autistic and gave me a place on the longer waiting list for formal diagnosis. It's something we've considered since I was in my teens, and dismissed, and come back to, and the care job put me in a place where I needed the diagnosis.

Since then, I've realised the trauma of birth and having a child in the house, no matter how much I adore him (which is more than the world), has had a huge impact on me and my ability to cope with the world and society.

Aerial circus is a lifesaver and my current main job.

I haven't written here because I barely know who I am. I am trying to get support and therapy, so I will get there, I'm just lost at the moment. 

I've always been scared of being self employed or trying to make it as a writer, but right at the moment trying to do anything else (except parent and teach circus) has become even more frightening, so you know what, I'm going to try. I submitted a short story a few weeks ago: not submitting it had become more terrifying than trying.

Covid has made the world a liminal place. We're teetering on the edge of societal shifts, and it's exciting and terrifying and interesting and I don't know where it will land - and I feel like this is paralleled in me.

My Mum died when I was little. Have I talked about this before? I background miss her always, but right now that feeling is stronger.

Here I am. Here I am trying. I disagree with Yoda: there is try: try is the step between not doing and doing. If you don't believe in try, you will never escape not doing; you will never do.

I intend to do.

Short post!

Very short post. New job started and I love it - tiring, though! Hence drop off in posts again, despite good intentions. The PPE makes me overheat and I can feel my face tingling from the pressure even on my days off, but I try to be grateful to have it. I feel sorry for the residents I'm working with: a lot of them rely on lip reading, and the masks can be a bit scary and intimidating, especially as the residents I work with all have some form of dementia, but I don't want to accidentally transmit anything to them - and I don't want to catch anything to bring home either.

As someone coming from software development, a career recognised as skilled, let me tell anyone who doubted it that caring is also a skilled profession, and one that requires great physical and emotional strength and compassion - truly not one just anyone could manage. It says a lot about our society how poorly paid carers are... But who will pay them more? (A rant for another day.) I would love to make it my career, but with cost of living rising faster than wages anyway, I'm not convinced we'll be able to afford it long term.

I set up a YouTube channel for circus videos, here. 

This is the same move as the photo I shared in my last post, so thought I'd use it to test!

Hope you're all well. I'm still trying to write up a bit more of our Mage game, and one day I'll get back to Exalted (which is a game that has completely stolen my heart so it's with great trepidation I face it, as I want to do the story justice.Not to imply I'm not also loving my other games; there's just something extra special about Exalted).

Still here!

Hello everyone!

I'm hoping to get some geeky posts going soon. Started writing up a bit more Mage, at least. Finding it hard because pretty much the only time I get to write is after Ziggy's gone to bed, and I'm so tired then! But I have to do e-learning for my new job, with several courses before I start on Monday (eep!), so he's having to learn to leave me to work when I'm on the laptop, and that I'll play with him again soon after. If we can get that embedded, I'm hoping to be able to do a bit more writing again - the stories I was working on in the background have also all fallen by the wayside and I'd love to get back to them, and I hate how much I've neglected this place.

Are there any topics anyone would be especially interested in a post on? Can't promise anything, especially anything soon, but it woud be good motivation for me.

My dad has bought himself a (steampunk) plague doctor mask... I'm not sure how that'll go down in the village where he lives, though it does attract retiring artists so hopefully they won't be too shocked...

 
Otherwise, we continue well here. Tired, sometimes bored, and desperately missing having visitors, but well. A very kind friend bought me a copy of Tabletop Simulator so I'll be able to join Husbit when they get together for Saturday night board games. Discord is proving an adequate host for Mage. (I've set up a Discord server for this blog, while I was trying to get my head round Discord. It isn't worth looking at yet, but if I get the time I'll make it shiny enough I'm comfortable offering a link.) I have my rig for when the weather's nice (Ziggy loves it as much as I do). 

I'm still anxious about a lot of things (family, friends and finances in particular), but I'm mostly feeling calm, peaceful and hopeful. It makes a nice change!

Hope you're all well. Let me know your topic suggestions.

Stay safe; stay sane; look after yourselves!

You can take away my freedom, but you'll never take my circus!

I'm loving having my own rig at home! It came with silks rather than hoop, but is too low to do most of the stuff I want to do on silks, so I've re-rigged the material as a hammock and am using YouTube and advice from a qualified friend to teach myself basic aerial yoga.

Because mermaids would definitely take selfies, right?

They're also great for getting Ziggy to sleep

Ok, so I don't have that many photos yet... I've got a bunch of videos I need to sort through and get onto YouTube so I can share here (can never get the videos to load correctly any other way, annoyingly. After mentioning to the other instructors that I'd discovered I miss teaching as much as practicing, one suggested doing some instruction videos, so I've had a go at that too - but haven't dared watch them back yet, for cringe factor!

We're doing our best to stay sane as well as safe. It's a strange kind of tiring, but there's also that almost holiday feeling, where I kinda don't want to go back to work because I've become used to this... at the same time, going into meaningful employment will be amazing. Haven't heard back with a confirmed start date, but they did say it could be a couple of weeks, especially as I need a DBS check.

I'm trying to post here more, but I don't get much chance while Ziggy's awake, and I'm too tired when he isn't!

Look after yourselves; stay safe and take care.

Life in Lockdown

Since my last post, the guidance has become even stricter, and the UK has finally followed other countries in declaring a lockdown. I believe our lockdown is less strict than other places, for which I'm very grateful as I think Ziggy and I, and likely Husbit too, would all be going mad if we couldn't get out for a daily walk - and we're lucky enough to have a garden!

The situation is surreal, to say the least. The first person I saw wearing a face mask was in the local bus station, in a crowd of other people, with his mask pulled down to his chin so he could smoke a cigarette. Today, someone in blue gloves ("two by two, hands of blue...") almost brushed her bare arm against mine, she passed by me so close (she really didn't need to. Super wide pavement, I was right up against the shops and there was no one else around). I'd just been coughing into my elbow (asthma triggered by hayfever, and I'd forgotten my inhaler, but still!) We're video chatting with people we've not seen in ages, which eases the feeling of being adrift, but doesn't stem it completely. 

Ziggy is finding it especially hard, as he's used to going for long walks to different places. He misses seeing other children, though chatting with his cousins seems to help - especially M, who sometimes steals my little sister's phone and calls us to make gibberish sounds to Ziggy (he's 3). Talking of niblings, my big sister produced me another nephew earlier this week, the second baby I know born during lockdown. But back to Ziggy's difficulties: we're trying to keep him occupied by trying lots of different activities. Water in the garden is especially good (today, he walked in circles around me while I sprayed a plant mister just ahead of him so he kept walking into the cloud), but we also picked up a cheap paddling pool and balls to use as a ballpit. The best for me is that, as my birthday coincided, we splashed out on a small aerial rig! We have to be careful where we walk, as Ziggy will have a complete meltdown if we go too near a playground and don't let him in, but between the rig and some garden furniture, we're starting to be able to compensate for swings and climbing frames. Still haven't figured out a safe slide, but we'll get there. 

His development seems to have accelerated, possibly from having extra focussed attention from both parents. He had a massive growth spurt in the first couple of days of lockdown, and since has doubled his vocabulary (adding "bubble", "ball", "bird", "down" and "stick" to "mum", "dad", "up" and "cat"). He can now walk up and down our stairs, as long as he has hands to hold - and he's starting to think about only holding one hand. He climbs everything, tries to read to me, can scribble with a pencil (he's going to be a leftie), and is very good at letting us know what he wants without needing many words; he's very expressive. He's also very curious, very confident and very careful, but most importantly I think he's going to be kind.

The rig, of course, is helping me, though I've realised I miss teaching as much as playing. I've applied for a health care assistant role at a local care home. Part time and badly paid, but meaningful work and something I think I'd be really good at - challenging, but rewarding. If Husbit can find something suitable, I think this is the job I'd like at least until Ziggy starts school. I've been accepted subject to checks, and their health survey was a lot more in depth than any I've taken before so I'm worried they'll pick up on fibromyalgia or anxiety as reasons not to hire me, though I know that's mostly the anxiety talking. As for gaming, Mage via Discord worked better than I'd expected, though we're going to try to figure out some kind of video service as we didn't have that before, we miss seeing each other, and apparently Discord's native video is a bit pants. My knitting is a bit neglected, as Ziggy loves sticks and that's all he sees my needles as so he tries to steal them. (He also enjoys playing with my yarn so much I sometimes wish we'd called him Theseus.) I'm also not writing as much as I'd like because Ziggy always wants to help, and is even better than Kitty was for finding annoying keyboard shortcuts. (He's currently having a rare nap, having fallen asleep in my arms when we went for our daily walk before lunch, which means he slept through lunch - but he naps so rarely and so often looks like he needs more sleep than when he does sleep we tend to let him.)

Husbit got really into a car race game called Gaslands last year or the year before, so he's been taking time to convert toy cars into suitable models for the game and is currently playing computer games with one of my uni friends (Civilization, though which edition I couldn't say). Our daily walk includes a trip round a couple of local Pokemon Go sites, including some he nominated, so that helps as well. He treated our decking this morning (so no circus for me until tomorrow or the day after) and is doing lots of cooking, which I'm very much enjoying (he doesn't bake, though, and has found a recipe he'd like me to have a go at, because I occasionally do, so I really must try and find time to do that to show how appreciative I am of all the housework and stuff he does).

Our street has a WhatsApp group to stay in touch and help each other out with shopping and prescriptions and keep an eye on each other's mental health. There's been lovely photos of people's pets being shared, and the renewed sense of community is something I hope will survive past the pandemic.

I've a lot to be grateful for. I'm in pretty good health. I'm not living alone, and I love the people I live with. We have a nice house with a nice garden, so we have some outdoor space. We have neighours we can rely on should we need to fully isolate, and friends and family just a call away if we need moral support. I've got the prospect of a new job which will make me feel useful. I'm still getting to enjoy my hobbies.

I hope you're all well and coping. I'm on Telegram as Fern Kali if anyone needs a chat - I can't promise to respond quickly, as Ziggy is demands a lot of my time and attention, but that's why messaging apps are so great. I've also created a Google photo album (it's here) and am inviting anyone who wants to to join and share things that make them smile.

 

Life and Plague and Stuff

Oh dear, how did it get so long between posts?

Oh yeah, I have a baby... or more accurately now, a toddler.

I also went back to full time work, had a bit of a breakdown, and am now trying to job hunt in other, less mentally taxing career fields. Which, with the whole covid virus thing, isn't that easy - though I might be able to work part time in a nearby care home, which I think would suit me, and the hours are much better than where I was. Shame it's so badly paid.

Basically, I was a software developer for a big company, who sold my department overseas. Not fancying a commute to Jo'burg, I came back off maternity straight into redundancy. Managed to find a new job straightaway, but unfortunately using the languages I like the least and doing web development, which I just don't find very interesting. The company had a very set way of doing things, so every time I completed a task, it would be reviewed and I'd be told I'd done it wrong, with no support on how to do it right the first way ("oh, just look at what's already there. Yeah, don't look at that bit, it's legacy." "Well which bit should I look at?" "Oh, figure it out.") The hours meant I barely saw Ziggy, and he became so distressed every time I left him that my heart was breaking - and he doesn't sleep through the night, so with the high level thinking I was exhausted. I'd stand in the kitchen crying before I had to leave, but it wasn't until a few weeks after I'd finished that I realised how ill I'd become. I'm on anti-anxiety meds, and have a panic attack whenever I try and code, even for fun. It's frustrating, because I used to truly love coding, and I think if I'd been able to go back to my old job it would have been fine (flexi-time and I was confident in what I was doing).

Message from Ziggy:   \ \bjnbbbbbbxxzgh\\ nnnnnnnnnnnv       j. 

And resuming. The saddest news is that Kitty died. She reached a point where we knew she had to be put down, but it was still the hardest decision we've ever made and really shook us both up. The vet was fantastic, very gentle with her and with us. He'd nursed her through the end few months and was fighting back tears himself.

I have a huge, feline shaped hole in my life and really want another rescue cat, but Husbit's not quite ready, and we'll need to be patient to get the right cat (friendly, short haired, ideally one I'm not allergic to, and most importantly one who's happy with small children). Ziggy loves all the neighbourhood cats, so he'll be thrilled but we'll have to make sure he's respectful. He is usually good with cats, at least - desperate to pet them but fairly gentle and I've only once had to stop him chasing one who'd walked away.

This is Biscuit, who haunts the local park and loves to play with the children.

We're currently covid free here. There's a few confirmed and more suspected cases in my general area, but only one of my friends has even a suspected case. We've had to close circus for now, which made me really sad - but on the plus side, I've got some of the equipment in my hall waiting for the owner to come by and collect so we'll still be able to play on the new rig she's ordered. In small, symptom-free groups, and assuming the advice doesn't get even stricter... (And if it does, I might be able to borrow a rig for my own garden...)

Like most people I've spoken to, I'm less worried about actually catching the virus (despite my asthma) than the economic impact of it. I am concerned about a few older friends and family members, and I'd be terrified if it was having a big impact on small children, but as it stands I'm fairly calm. The panic buying is frustrating, though: rice is about the only thing Ziggy will consistently eat, so we get through a lot and currently can't replenish our stash. The most annoying bit is hearing from friends who work in depots that there are no actual shortages: the problems are logistic in that people are buying too fast. If everyone slowed down, it would be fine, but instead we're in this stupid spiral.

Pathfinder is on hiatus, though this is partly down to a house move on the part of one player. We're finishing up the 'interlude' section where I play Jvala, and I'm very exciting at the thought of getting back to my beloved Svetlana. We will shortly be attempting our first remote Mage game via Discord - a medium I never got my head round, so this should be interesting. Wish me luck!

Best wishes and stay safe everyone!

Quick Update

Normally after RPGaDay, I'm a bit burnt out for a while but doing it as weekly rather than daily posts hasn't had the same effect this year (though maybe also because I'm still on maternity so wasn't trying to fit it in around a job). This year, my delay in further posts is because Ziggy has an uncanny ability to wake up as soon as I turn my laptop on - and at the moment it's very difficult to type with him around as he wants to eat the mouse and the power cable, or bang on the keys...

He's currently napping beautifully, so I'm sneaking on quickly!

Kitty is still going. She's become quite adept at getting around with 3 working legs, but can't figure out how to claw up the furniture any more (yay!). Our neighbours even saw her jump a fence the other day, though she insists to us she can't get over the stairgates. She's losing weight rapidly, no matter how much we feed her, but while she stays content we'll continue to look after her.

Ziggy adores her, but isn't very good with his love. She likes to sleep in basically a blanket fort on the sofa, and he'll lift the blanket up to flush her out, even pulling the blanket right off if she doesn't respond (and we don't intervene quickly enough). She'll sit down next to him, though, and then give us evil looks if we let him touch her. She doesn't mind him stroking if we hold his hand and control him, but he hasn't learnt the importance of gentleness yet. He's getting bigger and more mobile, so it is getting harder to protect her from him, and she seems to want to troll him anyway, walking right past him when the easier route takes her the other side of the room. I find that fascinating.

I'm in the middle of writing up a Mage post, but it's slow going because of Ziggy - I get a sentence, maybe a paragraph done at a time. I'm also using his sleep time for knitting, researching, and playing City of Heroes (or, more accurately, logging into CoH and moving my characters to new day job locations. If I'm very lucky, I might get to do a mission with one of them).

Researching is to do with the novel I think I might actually manage to write. I read Call the Midwife by Jennifer Worth and she mentions that there are no (or few) books in which a midwife - or even a nurse - is the main character, and something in my brain went "challenge accepted". This being me, I'm looking at a fantasy setting. Most of the fantasy I've read is heavily influenced by medieval Europe, so I thought I'd start by learning more about medicine and midwifery there. My local library were intrigued by the challenge and tracked down a few books they thought might help, but couldn't find anything specific (the best match, a history of nursing, was held in a reference library in a different county so they couldn't fetch that). I've got a book on women in medieval society, a book on medieval society and the manor court, and one about science in history, that includes Ancient Greek and Egyptian medicine so that sounds useful.

I've started with a chapter about sex, marriage and motherhood in the medieval women book, and have been interested by some of the misconceptions they held about the female body and also about misconceptions the modern world has about the role of sex in marriage (we think, or at least I did, that sex was something a man considered his right to take from his wife, but in fact sex was a debt each owed the other: the man also was expected to provide sex to his wife when she wanted). A lot of it stems from Christian influence that won't be relevant to my story but is still interesting. I want to create a more egalitarian society, but there are concepts I'm reading about that I want to include. I had the bones of the story, and the shape of the beginning and the end, and this is giving me ideas to help flesh out the middle. I only have the books for another couple of weeks, though, and start my new job next week, so I'm hoping I'll be able to renew the loan a few times as I'm not going to be able to get through them otherwise!

Quick Life Update

It's August already, and I only noticed because I poked Instagram and spotted an update from Dave Chapman referencing this year's #RPGaDay, and I was only on Instagram because I'm job hunting and a prospective employer mentioned she'd looked me up and seen my account there, and I realised I hadn't updated it in ages.

So starting with RPGaDay - I intend to take part. Now I've seen the graphic, I'm intrigued by the prompts (though find the graphic itself less clear than the previous format. More fun, but less clear). Between the Cat and Ziggy, I have less opportunities to spend time on my laptop so I think I'm going to write up as many as I can when I get the opportunity and post them to go live on Sundays in a "weekly round up" style.

Kitty's still doing ok. She's not eating as well as she was immediately after the steroid injection but is still eating better than before it. Her front right leg is now almost completely useless to her and the muscle is wasting away, but the limp that was developing in her left back leg has fixed itself. We assume she'd strained it compensating for her front leg. She's doing a very good job of getting around, albeit more slowly. She still comes up at around 6am and jumps on the bed, miaowing for cuddles. 

The job hunt is because I'm in gardening leave. I did 6 months maternity and went back to work for a few days, then gardening leave started. My department's been sold to an offshore company, who sensibly enough want to bring it to their continent and I didn't want to follow. Husbit has also been made redundant, but was always going to leave his job to be primary parent so this way we got an unexpected payout. My job was under threat before I fell pregnant and the dates confirmed before I left for maternity leave, so it's not unexpected. What's frustrating is that this time last year I was looking around at what was out there, and there were loads of jobs in my industry that were lower responsibility than I'd had and for nearly 50% more income, so I wasn't worried. Those jobs have all now dried up and I'm anxious. I'm also struggling to prove myself in technical tests. I spent 4 years or so being told how good I am at programming and I'd finally internalised that, and now the feedback I'm getting over and over again is that my technical tests aren't up to standard. I have, fortunately, managed to get an interview despite that (showing personality counts for something), but it's really knocked my confidence. It also means I'm going to be on a wage barely above what I was on before, which is not enough to cover our bills so that's super stressful. I'm going to have to work hard to prove myself and get a pay rise (wherever I end up)  before my redundancy payout runs out. (The recruiter sounded annoyed when I mentioned I had to give notice or I'd lose the payout. I didn't like to mention I don't really want to start before the gardening leave naturally comes to an end because I don't want to miss Ziggy more than I have to, and I'm still breastfeeding. I'm prepared to if I have to, but I don't like it.) I don't want to whine about it, but writing my worries is one of the ways I deal with them. Which leads on to the thought that I'd love to write a novel and get it published, and necessity may help my enthusiasm cut through my self-doubt (and my reluctance to edit).

Ziggy continues to do well. He's got 6 teeth cut through, with several other little bumps. He can walk while holding on - even a few steps holding with only one hand! He can run with both hands (and climb stairs the same way). The last couple of days, he's started crawling! He doesn't get very far, tending to use it as a way to get closer to something he's already sitting near. He's currently playing with blocks and watching Hey, Duggee (the only kids' show we don't find annoying. One episode is about the right length for his attention and gives us a 7minute break). I'd like to do a proper post soon, showing him swimming and at circus and bouncing and all the other things he enjoys.

In summary, life is more stressful than I like right now, but not insurmountably so, and I'm still getting great pleasure out of the things I love.

Kitty

Does have lymphoma. She also has a limp they thought initially was arthritis but now think is a tumour, and another leg has started limping since then. She's on steroids to make her feel better and encourage her to eat, and they do seem to be helping but they aren't a cure. We're giving her lots of love and affection and all the food she asks for. We're hoping she makes it to Christmas, but have no idea how long she might have: the only way to find out would be invasive exploratory surgery which doesn't seem fair to her. For now, she's happy and we'll do what we can to keep her happy as long as possible.

 

Birthing Debrief pt 2

As with the previous post, I appreciate this is something that isn't going to be of interest to those of you who read the blog purely for the geek stuff. I want to talk through the birth and days after to help sort it out in my mind and because it's a huge thing to me, and I want to talk about Ziggy endlessly because I'm overwhelmed by the wonder of him, but I also want to keep up writing about games and aerial and other things I love, because it's important to me to be a rounded person with interests beyond my child. I'll find a balance that works for me.

In the meantime, here's the cat pic warning for those of you not interested in birth and newborns, or who don't want to read about the things Husbit refers to as "human goo": the blood, faeces, urine, vomit, snot and dribble that comes from having a baby.

I stared at him. The trauma of the previous however long was tethered to me like helium balloons, and with each breath another string was snipped until the universe was him and me. I felt a swelling of love for Husbit, for my stepmum, my family, my friends. Everything and everyone that mattered to me mattered more. It was like he was an amplifier for the love in me.

They turned off the epidural as soon as he arrived, which meant no pain relief for the stitches. The antenatal class had warned me about this, saying that we'd be so absorbed in the baby that we wouldn't notice the pain. I was very absorbed in him, but it still really hurt (I remember that pain better than the pain of the birth itself, probably because it happened after I first saw him). While they were doing that, the trainee muttered about there not being any tearing (weird things to feel about), and the consultant saying this was unusual when there was - and I missed the next word, filling in "forceps" or "a large/stuck baby". Hours later, I learnt I'd haemorrhaged. A blood loss of 500ml or more is considered a haemorrhage. I lost 1300ml. I think I was lucky not to need a transfusion.

I'd agreed with the first midwife when we arrived that we'd do delayed cord clamping and that my stepmum would cut the cord, but she'd left by the time he arrived, and the doctors either didn't read her notes or didn't care and did all that before any of us knew. I'm a bit cross about not having delayed cord clamping.

I was exhausted and wanted peace and quiet to be with Ziggy. I wanted Husbit with me, but the bed was small and awkward with no space for him to curl with me, and I knew my stepmum's car was back at our house and I knew he was exhausted too and needed to rest and I knew I'd be ok with Ziggy (who had a real name now, a grown up name for such a young person) so when I heard him dithering around I sent him home to come back in the morning. I was still in this little bubble of love and it enveloped him even when he wasn't next to me.

Eventually, it was just me, Ziggy, and a midwife. She quietly scribbled notes, giving me some peace. Ziggy stayed on my chest for a few hours, which was lovely, covered in the blood and goo of birth, which wasn't. At some point, someone took him off me, cleaned him of the poo he'd smeared over both of us, and put him back on my chest in the same pile of meconium. I didn't bother to mention the next time he pooed and just enjoyed the weight of him instead. Midwives kept changing - I'm not sure how many we went through over the course of the night. Eventually, one took him and cleaned him up, dressed him and laid him in the bassinet beside me and we lay there staring at each other. I timed my breathing to his. Whenever one of us got hiccups, the other started soon after. I imagine we both dozed, but I don't really remember.

They left me filthy when they cleaned him. I'm pretty sure they turned off my oxitocin an hour early and took away my fluid drip before they should have, but I was pretty out of it when they were told when to take that away, so I may be wrong. The room was far too hot for me - they kept saying my faint feeling was the blood loss, but I knew it was the heat. One midwife listened to me. She turned the aircon on and I was fine (until the next came and turned it off again). She helped me stand so I could move to the chair for a change of scene, and said she'd be back shortly to help me have a shower. An hour, longer, passed and she didn't return, so I rang and another midwife appeared, said I couldn't have a shower because I couldn't stand up because I'd had an epidural (I could. It was hard because it was so hot in there and I'd lost all that blood, but I could stand and I could walk). The nice midwife eventually came back and apologised that she couldn't help me have a shower because she was too busy, now, but she did shortly after bring me a basin of water and some wipes, so I at least managed a strip wash, and she helped me put knickers on after.

Top tip: if you're ever helping someone with a catheter and stitches put on their knickers, put the catheter tube through the leg hole on the side the stitches aren't.

She did, at least, come back to remove the catheter pretty much to the minute of when it was able to be removed, for which I was very grateful.

Midwives would bring me tea and toast, then he would stir and I'd see to him so they'd go cold and midwives would take them away without letting me say that I'd rather have them cold than not at all... That didn't help my faintness either. 

One midwife, when I'd finally had enough and got as close to griping as I did all night, told me they were very busy and that "not everyone got to have a happy ending like you", which, y'know, probably not something she should have said to me. Definitely not something I wanted to hear. It cowed me, though. Meant I didn't make any more fuss.

I did eventually get a shower, though no help with it and I was far dizzier than I'd realised and struggled to stand. With hindsight, this was probably the blood loss.

Several midwives showed me how to feed him, but they all showed me different techniques and I felt a bit confused by it all - they'd say "yeah, you've got it" then the next would arrive and ask me to show them and they'd suggest I might find a different method easier/more successful, to repeat the cycle.

He received a vest and a teddy for being the first baby born that Christmas Day, and a book, another teddy, and some Child's Farm goodies for being born on Christmas Day at all. That was pretty cool.

I was told there was a place on the ward if I wanted it, but they knew I'd wanted a homebirth and they were unusually busy, so I could probably go instead if I'd prefer. Given my experience to that point, I definitely preferred. I let Husbit know and he got ready to come and collect me.

They brought me Christmas lunch, which was nice. I shared it with Husbit, as he'd arrived without eating anything as we both thought I'd be leaving sooner than I was.

When they did eventually discharge me, they explained that the doctors weren't happy to let me go because of the blood loss (which is when I discovered I'd had that), but that the midwives were "on my side"because it was Christmas. 

"It's Christmas, so you're willing to risk her life?" started Husbit. I shushed him, by now desperate to get out and unaware that he'd genuinely thought I was going to die during the labour (it took me several days to realise how traumatised he was). 

They signed me off as successfully breastfeeding because he latched ok (and let go immediately on doing so...), and we left.

Husbit's mother and sister met us at our house, with another Christmas meal and a bunch of presents. My mother-in-law informed me I needed to lose weight (something she'd repeat every time she saw me until he was 8 weeks old, even when I asked her not to, even when I pointed out it wouldn't be safe to Ziggy for me to start trying to diet yet, with him relying on my food). I asked her to give him back at some point while she was cuddling him - I forget whether I just wanted him back or if I thought he was hungry or something - and she snapped "NO!" whilst twisting her body away from me with him in her arms. My arm was ready to throw the punch before I noticed I'd balled my fist (I often wonder what would have happened if I'd let it fly). This was when our relationship - already frayed due to her behaviour especially towards the end of the pregnancy - started to really fracture, though I did my best to hide it for Husbit's sake.

My Dad and little sister came round Boxing Day. I'd suggested all my family should come, but they said I'd be overwhelmed. I pouted internally, but in the end was grateful. My sister laughed at my distended stomach "You've got a hippo too!" She hadn't known about this when she had her first, had thought you went straight back to looking not-pregnant immediately after giving birth and had been shocked and a little upset to discover that wasn't true, nicknaming the paunch "hippo" to make her feel better. She'd then forgotten again until after her daughter arrived.

My midwife checked us out. She and my sister were both a bit worried about his feeding, but the hospital had told me it was fine and I trusted them.

One of my friends drove down from Wales with presents. It was amazing to see her, and we ended up so grateful, because that was the night Ziggy decided to let us know he wasn't actually feeding. He screamed all night, kept pushing my breast away. Contacted my midwife, who sent Husbit out to buy some formula. She thought the one she recommended came with teats, but it didn't. Fortunately, we had some bottles and sterilising fluid. The bottles were really for a bigger baby, but it's what we had. Sterilised them in a bowl, having to roll them to sterilise the bit where an air bubble formed because we didn't have a bowl big enough to stand the bottle in.

Typing this, I can feel the anxiety building again.

He guzzled the formula.

My midwife arrived and weighed him. He'd lost 13% in 3 days. Babies are expected to lose weight, but not that much: 10% in 10 days, usually. She sent us to the hospital, and this is where my friend came in really useful. She's a trainee nurse and she's had 2 children, so she understood how sleep deprived we were, she knew some of the answers to the questions the staff asked us, and knew how to translate their questions and our answers where she didn't know. They wanted to take some blood, at one point, and she asked questions of the phlebotomist who let her assist, which I think helped me stay calm.

He was jaundiced, nearly enough to need a sun lamp but not quite. Part of me wanted them to put him under anyway, to make him safe, but I was too sleep deprived to know how to ask for that. I can see why it's a torture technique: I was very compliant. They admitted him to the children's ward for the night - I was distraught. I've never stayed in hospital before and it seemed frightening, especially to be away from Al.

Whose mother phoned when we were on the ward. She'd popped over to drop things off at ours and seen the bottle and sterilising set up we'd used, and yelled down the phone at me about how wrong it all was. I wanted to hang up, but, shaking, let her tell me off. After, I told Al she needed to back off, that I was fragile and needed handling with care and gentleness and she is not gentle. It's the first time I've stood up for myself like that and it felt strange, but I knew I had to for Ziggy's sake. "She's just worried. She's just trying to help. She just wants to help" was the refrain I would then hear from Al and, moreso, from his sister, which at least reassured me he had spoken to her but wasn't what I needed to hear, because, quite frankly, I didn't care what her intentions were so much as the effect. I felt that if she actually wanted to help, she could ask what would be helpful, and she could try to remember how overwhelming those first few days, weeks are. I still don't really understand why I'm the one who was expected to compromise at that time. On the plus side, my stepmum had had even worse problems with her in-laws and was amazing as a result. I hope to follow her example should I be lucky enough to become a grandparent.

It frustrates me to be so critical of Husbit's mother, but she's done a lot of emotional damage.

The hospital stay ended up being two nights and being really valuable. I managed some sleep - letting them take him from me for a few hours the first night was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I knew I had to or I wouldn't cope. A wonderful, kind auxilliary nurse by the name of Lol sat with us for 2 days until he and I had a much better idea how to feed. She warned me about the day 5 emotional crash. We were discharged with instructions to feed every 2 hours, starting by offering expressed milk, then breast, then topping up with formula. This was exhausting, and after an unknown number of days (every a blur by then), my midwife moved it to every 3 hours overnight. Gradually, my milk came in and he started to throw up the formula until eventually he was 100% breastfed. It was an incredible feeling, and now I take it for granted.

Watching him leave that night was so hard

but worth it once he was feeding

I'm really glad I persevered: being able to feed him without needing a load of paraphenalia makes it a lot easier to feed him when we're out and about. The fact he was introduced to the bottle so early also helped, as it means he didn't have to learn to take a bottle later and I can go out and leave him with his Dad. He never experienced "nipple confusion", and the hospital staff said it wasn't really a thing, in their experience. And they have a lot of it! Locally, there's a real problem with babies not feednig properly, which they lay to two things, both of which were my experience: 1) the above mentioned hospital sign off when not really feeding (it makes the maternity hospital numbers look good), and 2) the antenatal classes all make it sound easy and natural, so new mothers assume that what they're doing is right. The children's ward would love them to be honest about how hard it can be, just as they are with the labour, but the midwives don't want to because they worry it will put people off even trying.

The trauma of it all meant my midwife had me marked as ?PND. The next time I saw her, I asked for counselling which she quickly approved: she'd been going to suggest it anyway. I went for two sessions and by the second the feeding was going so much better that I felt ok and we agreed I'd only come back if I was still dwelling on any of it after 3 or 4 months. I hadn't told her about the in-law issues, but that's the one bit I'm still struggling with. Things she's said or done still pervade my thoughts and I still find myself talking about it. She was diagnosed with a vitamin B deficiency, which includes depression in the symptoms and has started to improve since being treated for that, but because of the way she was for the first few months it's still very easy for her to say or do something that makes me internally flinch. I'm doing my best to deal with it for Husbit and Ziggy's sake, but she really has done a lot of damage and I'm only starting to understand how much now that her attitude has improved.

Next Ziggy instalment will probably be on the more exciting topics of his hobbies, classes and development. He's 6 months old, and walking already! (Holding fingers, but walking)