I am here to write about Frugi's AW16 collection. And that may normally have just been one of my reviews that you might enjoy and feel inspired by (they have the most gorgeous baby clothes). But this is probably one of the most special reviews I've ever done, because these photographs were taken on a really special day, and so, in turn, they are also really special memories, captured forever, too.
When Daisy was three days old, I buzzed the neonatal team from my hospital bed, in the cubicle we were struggling in, and I asked them to take her.
We had tried for days to get her to be able to feed from a bottle. The precious drops of colostrum that I had expressed. And then more as my milk started to flow, thanks to the force of a hospital-grade pump.
But she couldn't feed. She couldn't do it. Mark would leave, once the visiting times were up for partners. And I would close the curtain around me and my baby and I would sob because I was frightened with the responsibility of keeping my daughter alive. And I know I was in hospital, and she was in the best place. But she was still in my care. Nurses and midwives left me to it, in the hope that she would manage. And eventually the NICU staff started to circle closer and closer.
She had to take 30ml every three hours or she'd be admitted. I would sit for what felt like hours trying to get her to feed from a specialist teat. And she would be so exhausted that she would fall asleep or refuse. And the yellow-tinged milk would dribble from the side of her mouth and I would wince - remembering the effort it cost me to produce it.
She did start to take a bit more but my baby girl was growing weaker. I could see it. And I was sacred. I was sore. I was disoriented. I had barely any sleep - under no exaggeration. I had a few hours in the 72 since her arrival. And eventually, with Mark by my side, I pressed the buzzer and begged them to take my baby.
I think being a mum, and making friends, is actually pretty hard sometimes.
I remember when I first had Bill, and because I had to go back to work so soon afterwards, I never did those things that I felt like I was supposed to do. Go to a café for a coffee and a cake while my baby finally slept. Go to a baby group and smile shyly at other mums until maybe one of us had the guts to say hello.
I was really excited for that this time around. But it's not exactly gone to plan as Daisy spent a lot of time in hospital and only now am I starting to feel in a better place, mentally and emotionally, where I feel like being more social and getting out there.
So, about four and a half months ago, I gave birth to Daisy. And why I appreciate it takes nine months to make a baby, and I should give myself some credit and time to get back in shape, I also have to be honest with myself and you and say that I am slowly gaining weight because I'm not looking after myself.
Having a baby in special care, directly after giving birth, is one of the hardest experiences I think you can go through. At least from my perspective. My body was sore. I was exhausted. I was disorientated. And my heart was breaking.
But she is home now, and I am four months postpartum (you can see my postpartum update here if you like). I need to start looking after myself so I can keep looking after her, and her big brother, as best as I can, with a smile on my face.
My Auntie Debbie, and my Grandma both joined Slimming World a few weeks back. And I made excuses. Blaming the cost. Or the fact that Daisy was poorly at the time. And they were valid excuses, I suppose. But I was so curious. And I was getting increasingly less confident and more miserable with my body and the way I was feeling. So, I told myself that we'd get our holiday to Centre Parcs out of the way, and then I would join.