Sneak Peek

Just a few photies from my soon to be home. They aren't the best photos, I felt the watchful eye of the estate agent as I was taking them.

This carpet has gotta go.

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Remember the 'granny chic' house I was lusting after? Well, there is a sold sign up and I will soon be the proud owner of all it's vintage charm. I cannot wait to get painting and start hanging pictures. Should be at least another month till we three are calling it home.

Here's little snap of me enjoying a weekend away with friends (and Mr Finch). My new Primark booties haven't been off me since I got them last month. Here they be teamed with a vintage shirt and some high waisted jeans.

And Ms Mini Magee seems to be following suit with her love of fashion. This little lady knows how to don her garb in style. I promise you this is not a staged photo, the shades and bag combo were completely of her own making:

I've been desperately trying to find the time to do some crafti-work lately. Last month I made my Pops a laptop case for his birthday and I'm hoping to make a few more of these beauts for my Etsy shop (remember the days when I had a Etsy shop? I barely do).

That is if I ever manage to detach myself from Finchums, even now I am one handed typing whilst feeding him. Normally the evenings would be my most productive time as Moll would be down for the night. But baby brother seems to like to party on down at night. So 'Me Time' has been postponed till 10pm every evening, when I am much more inclined to crash out in front of the tv than toil away at my sewing machine. Still I will find a way somehow...

My Own Shining Armour

Being single again means I am again feeling the pressure society puts on us all to couple up. I do the best I can to dismiss this pressure. I tell myself at least a handful of times each day that I must learn to be happy alone, that I can't just spend my days waiting for someone to make me happy, I must find happiness within. And I'm getting there, somedays, sometimes.

Besides, knights in shining armour do not exist. I know that now.

So I dress myself in my own armour. Made up with the mantras of modern day womanhood

who needs a man anyway

enforced with a (debatably) healthy dose of cynicism

they just cheat

and then for maximum self defense I build a bullet proof vest of self doubt

at least they do on me

From behind my shield I whisper.... When will I just be held again?....Kissed?

When will I offload my armour, strip off the 'Mum' costume I sport everyday and just be figuratively (and literally) naked and yet not alone.

Ever?

I pay lip service to the advantages of singledom. I tell myself this is just the way I want it.

But really

When lovers kiss in movies

I look away.

I'm Right Where I'm Supposed To Be

A few days before I went in for induction I wrote this on a piece of paper and stuck it on my mirror. It's come in handy over the last few weeks, whenever I feel overwhelmed and want to scream, cry, rock back and forth, run away... I catch a glimpse of this and am comforted by the assurance that:

I'm still working on my birthing story post. Let me warn you, It's becoming longer and longer. I want to remember everything so I'm gleaning every single detail from my memory and recording it.

Until then, here's a picture of me and the man of the house

And this is an accurate depiction of family life. Notice Molly taking a tantrum on the ground, my fake smile and the fact that Finch's head looks like it's about to roll off! Good times, good times.

The Meaning of Finch...

When I returned to Ireland in January I was in a state of desperation and clutching at anything to fix my marriage. I'd made the 25 hour journey back with Molly as my home had become 'emotionally unsafe'. I had spent two weeks sitting next to a man who couldn't decide wether to discard me like an old pair of socks or cling to me and beg me to save him from himself. I was constantly looking at him sideways and asking him if he was ok, literally motioning a thumbs up signal with a questioning look! What I was really asking was 'right now, in this second, am I in or out? Am I a keeper or not?'.

When I arrived in Ireland I begged my family and friends not to hate him, I pleaded with them to see that he was 'not himself' that he was ill and needed help. I was contacting my doctor and inquiring about how to have him admitted for psychiatric care. I frantically text messaged friends and family with prayer requests and organised a day of fasting on behalf of my marriage. I met with his closest and oldest friends and spilled out every detail of our marriage in the hope that they could help somehow. It actually resulted in one particular guy flying over to spend a week with him. A week where we all sat waiting to hear a positive sign that things were improving. But there was nothing positive to report. The more he talked, the more resolute he became.

After a month I had clutched at all my straws and exhausted every last effort. I was deflated and bereft of hope.

Hope?

What could that word mean to me now? I thought i'd been so desperately hoping that whole time, doing all I could, anything at all, to repair things.

But I have learnt and am continually learning that hope is not an action, not a task that I can execute. It is not a phonecall, an email, a late night vigil at old make-out points to offer up some sort of sacrifice. And hope, does not stick to an agenda.

Hope is the thing with feathers,

that perches in the soul

and sings the tune without the words

and never stops at all....

I had run out of all ideas and had no words left. But there was still a tune to be sung. Not by me, but by the little bird in my soul. In february I had a scan and learnt that the child living inside me was to be a son. That afternoon was particularly traumatic, a story for another time perhaps. A few days later I found myself wandering through Belfast seeking out the perfect little bird necklace. I wanted something to carry around to remind me of the Emily Dickinson poem which had became my personal mantra.

Something I could look at and visualise the little bird who kept on singing even when I didn't know what to hope for anymore, but whose tune kept me getting out of bed every day, kept me eating, kept me alive.

I was looking at a pendant of a little swallow in flight when It suddenly dawned on me. The name we had chosen if Molly was to be a boy was Finch. The name had been drawn from To Kill a Mocking Bird's protagonist, the most admirable Atticus Finch. A noble man fighting against the odds for justice. That afternoon as I stood looking at the depiction of a bird in flight I felt so struck by the avian significance of the name Finch.

Finch - the little bird, living within me, my hope. I no longer needed a necklace. I had the approaching due date instead. Hope was growing inside me and someday I would give birth to my hope.

And I did....

He will forever be a reminder to me that life does not follow an agenda and sometimes we don't even know what to hope for. But we are stronger than we know we are and there is beauty around the corner we could not have dreamt of.

Sometimes in the form of snuggly, sleepy, magical, newborns.

Thank you Mr Finch.

*** The top picture is a beautiful painting my wonderful friends in Canada had commissioned for me when I told them of the significance behind my chosen name! so beautiful! ***

Introducing Finch Steen Magee

8.6lbs of sheer perfection and delivered in a birthing pool PAIN RELIEF FREE! Birthing story and a little insight into his name to follow. Just give us a little chance, we are still in hospital for another 24 hours.

Dear Mr Bump,

I'm trying to be patient and all, but I'd really like to meet you soon. You have a lot of people waiting who love you and are looking forward to snuggling with you. Including your beautiful big sister who will just adore playing with you (though it may take a little while for her to master this art - you'll be pretty small and sleepy and even a little grumpy at the start).

Maybe you've heard a lot of unhappy noises over the last 6 months, crying, shouting and such, but please don't let that taint your view on the great big world. Life is beautiful and quite the adventure.

So come on out and greet us, we aren't scary.

Love you,

Mum-ee.