Hannah Hopkins's Blog

After taking just under a month off blogging, I’m finally back after my mini-hiatus. As you can probably guess, the reason for my absence was because things got a bit hectic and I’ve been busy finding my feet as a new mum of two. Now that things have calmed down – at least for now- I’d like to share a few things I’ve learnt over the past month about how I can personally get through the ups and downs that come with having two children!

Lesson 1: It is possible to eat an entire tin of Cadburys Roses in less than a week.

Being madly rushed off my feet, in the first couple of weeks I was on my own with the children after my partner went back to work, I kept forgetting to eat. It sounds ridiculous, especially if you love food as much as I do, but I was so caught up in making sure that everyone else was fed that I often forgot to feed myself in the process. This resulted in unfortunate pangs of hunger at times when I was in the middle of doing something and had no opportunity to stop and make something proper to eat. Thanks to it being the festive season, many kind relatives had either dropped off or sent treats, including the aforementioned tin of Roses that had been left to perch innocently on the kitchen side. Whenever I was hungry and unable to stop, I’d grab a chocolate out of the tin and scoff it down, enjoying the short term fix it gave me. The term “fix” is not used lightly in this particular situation, because the chocolate shovelling became somewhat of an addiction and I found myself starting to use treats in an attempt to ease the stress I was facing as I tried to find my routine in all the chaos. As it turns out, it doesn’t help at all and serves to add further worry that not only will I be eternally running around a house after two tiny dictators, but also that I’ll have no teeth while I’m doing it.

Lesson 2: Time for myself is essential.

Yes, I have used bold AND italics to highlight how super important this point really is. Whereas time to myself was previously perceived as a bit of a luxury, I came to realise that it is now a necessity if I wish to keep my slowly dwindling sanity.

I didn’t realise what I’d signed up for before the birth of my second child, but between my two boys I ended up working an eighteen hour shift everyday, with my eldest waking up at roughly six in the morning and my youngest staying up drinking and requiring a constant winding until midnight each night. This slowly started to take its toll. I had thought being the mum of a toddler was difficult, but back then I at least had my evenings to myself after he went to bed. I found myself unable to catch a break and slowly went mad with it, until I broke down and told my boyfriend how I was feeling. For some reason, I expected him to tell me that I absolutely Was. Not. Allowed. to have any peace as a mother- it’s part of the contract. I realised how hard I was being on myself when he told me to do what I needed to do and take whatever time it required for me to feel human again. When I expressed my guilt at the idea of taking an hour or two for myself at the weekends and leaving him at home after working through the week, he looked at me strangely and said “They’re my kids too…”

It really was that easy, and ever since this agreement has been put into place I’ve felt a whole lot better. Even if I don’t take the option for some alone time, I know it’s there, and that has done wonders for my coping strategies.

Lesson 3: Stop stressing and things will fall into place.

Without realising, I have fully transitioned into a “Type A” personality, something which I never thought would happen. In the era B. C (before children), I’d been so laid back I’m surprised I didn’t fall over. I never used to stress about anything. Ever. Nothing phased me. You’d think this was a good thing, but actually a little bit of stress about the future can be healthy, as it serves as motivation (something which I seriously lacked).

However, now I seem to have gone to the other end of the spectrum completely and worry about everything. If the washing up doesn’t get done it’s a disaster! The kitchen will pile up and look messy! All the food will go hard and stick to the plates! And what if – God forbid-somebody is hungry and there is nothing clean to eat out of!!! You see the point…

Okay maybe the household chores are not the end of the world, but I did find myself stressing a lot about whether I was doing the “right thing”. Am I spending enough time with my eldest son? Am I stimulating the baby enough? Am I making sure I swop arms when I’m feeding him so he doesn’t end up with a lazy eye (this is something the health visitor genuinely warned me about). It felt like there were not enough hours in the day to get done everything that needed doing AND give the children sufficient attention to avoid the big wollop of “mum guilt” at the end of the day. It got to the point where I started to make myself feel ill, at which point I had to stop, take a good look myself and tell myself to calm down. I injected a little bit of the old Hannah philosophy into my life and decided to see where the day would take me, rather than trying to meticulously plan each and every second of it so I could tick off a mental check list in my head. Since doing this, I’ve felt much happier, and strangely have managed to fit more in. I’m also less of a monster to be around, and have actually had *fun* with my children, instead of just being a walking talking ball of stress.

So there we have it. The three main lessons I have learnt so far. I’m sure there will be many more to come, but I hope I can keep learning from my mistakes and continue feeling like I’m getting one step closer to actually getting a handle on all of this! (You have to dream big)

Thank you for reading, and here’s to (hopefully) some more regular posting as the adventure continues!

So, my first proper review for my book  came back a couple of days ago. Here is a copy of what was said:

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Reading this feedback honestly made my day and, if I’m honest, probably my whole week! On top of that, my mum’s friend is close with the author Simon Brett OBE (if you haven’t heard of him, Google him!) and she passed on the book for him to read so that he could give me some honest feedback. He came back saying that I was “a name to watch out for”!! I was absolutely blown away. He also said he thought the novel was extremely well written and that the characters really came to life as he read. He used words like “creative” and “talented” when describing my work. I was expecting some constructive criticism, so I was over the moon with how positive he was, especially considering how successful he is!

Putting my book out there to the world was one of the most frightening things I’ve ever done. I felt so vulnerable. It reminded me of those nightmares you have as a teenager where you’re naked in front of everyone in the school canteen. Thankfully, so far taking the risk has paid off, and I’m truly happy that people seem to be enjoying reading the book as much as I loved writing it. I created an entire world in my head, and it gives me great joy to think that other people are joining me there, losing themselves in the story that I felt compelled to tell. Thank you to every body who has bought my book. Here’s hoping the future of my writing continues to look bright !

Sometimes, I get really overwhelmed thinking about all the things I wish to do in my life that I’m yet to achieve. Having two children means I often don’t have time to get dressed or brush my hair , let alone achieve things, and I end up seriously stressing myself out trying to cram little bits of writing into any spare second I get during the day.

Today, while I was having a nice, hot bath (the first one not shared with a two year old in as many weeks), my tired mind started drifting through various daydreams. For some reason, the memory of a job interview I intended long ago in the era I like to refer to as “BK” (before kids), came back to me in vivid recollection.

The position I was going for was one of a waitress at a pub out the outskirts of the city I live nearby. I’d just come back from Uni and was trying to find something to do to tide me over while I tried to work out what I actually want to do with my life. I had thought, considering what the job was, that the interview would be more of an informal chat about experience and “what would you do if a customer did this” scenarios. However, the lady interviewing me went all out, asking me all kinds of complicated questions and demanding examples of when I had demonstrated the skills and qualities she desired in her staff. I managed to get through most of it by blagging my answers and improvising. That is until she asked me to “name something you’ve done that you’re proud of”. My mind went completely blank. I’d mentioned getting into University in one of my previous answers, so using it again felt like a cop-out.  Besides, I thought to myself at the time, lots of people get into Uni. There was a long ( and I mean long) awkward silence as I struggled to come up with something. It became so uncomfortable that the woman interviewing me actually tried to help me think of an answer, just so we could move past the horrible moment. In the end, I started blathering on about helping a friend who’d been depressed. It was a bit of a heavy topic to be discussing at a waitress interview, and needless to say it made the situation even more uncomfortable than it had been in the first place, the woman not knowing what to say after I’d finished speaking about the issue.

After I’d re-lived the cringe-worthy moment again in my head, it comforted me to think that if I were asked the same question now, I’d have a lot of things I could say as a response. Looking back at all the things I have achieved already, rather was the change in perspective I needed to ease the frustration I often feel. It’s easy to get fed up when you’re passionate about something and simply do not have the time to pursue the goals you so desperately desire. However, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’d be better off reminding myself of the things I’m doing that I am really proud of ( including raising my two boys!), instead of dwelling on what I am yet to do. I may have a long way to go yet in terms of realising all my life ambitions, but at least I have some material now that should ensure I never have to sit through such an awkward, embarrassing interview ever again!

It occurred to me that a lot of my blogs have focused around how hard things as a parent can be (and they are!). For that reason, I want to talk about a really good day I had at the weekend and write something wholly positive for a change!

It was a Sunday. The day began with a rare lie-in (by lie- in I mean getting up at 7.30am rather than 6). My eldest, Samuel, still woke up at the crack of dawn, but because daddy was at homw, he came into our bed and went back to sleep straight away, without even demanding any YouTube videos! Anthony, the baby, had his morning feed and then joined us for a quick cuddle, still dressed in the snowman sleepsuit I had put him in the evening before when we put our Christmas decorations up. At this point I was the only one awake, and rather than begrudging the fact, I took a good look at my three sleeping boys around me and counted myself extremely lucky. I lay there for a long while, thinking about all the things I’m looking forward to doing as a family of four. Eventually,   sleepiness got the better of me, and I gave in, putting baby in his cot and snuggling under the covers to get some well-needed sleep. Naturally, the second I put my head on the pillow, both children decided it was time to wake up and start crying.

We all piled downstairs, had some breakfast and put on Disneys “Cars” for the fiftieth time that week. I spent the morning alone with the two boys while daddy went to football, but miraculously , there were hardly any tantrums and I managed to get both of them dressed and ready before ten o’ clock, even though I myself stayed in my pyjamas until midday.

When daddy got home, he listened to my pleas of wanting to leave the house after being cooped up for several days, and elected to watch the children while I went for a shower and got ready to go out. It was so nice to make myself look human again, and feeling brave, I chose to wear one of my old favourite knitted dresses – a bold choice just two weeks after giving birth.  I’ve no idea how it looked, but it made me feel like “me” again, which was more important to me than whether my post-baby belly was on show.

When we were all ready, everyone was bundled into the car, and we drove off, the sound of Taylor Swifts new album provding the theme song to our journey (much to daddy’s dismay). We were heading for a pub about twenty minutes away to have Sunday lunch, and by the time we’d sett off it was getting dark, meaning we could fully appreciate the sight of all the Christmas lights on the way.

After a few wrong turns and trips all the way round one or two roundabouts, we arrived. The pub was busy but not too packed, and we were given seats in the kids section, which boasted a play area to entertain the under 5s and give their parents some peace.

Samuel was straight in there, trying his best to make friends with the older kids, despite the fact he wasn’t able to communicate very well with them. There was one incident where a boy a similar age to him pushed him off the giant wheel he was playing with. This moment was a learning curve for both him and for us as parents. It’s difficult to know how to react in a situation like that , but I’d never feel right telling off someone else’s child, and so instead I told Samuel to go back in and carry on playing, encouraging him not to be intimidated by the boy’s behaviour. I was proud to watch him stride back in and carry on his game without fear. Secretly, I enjoy the fact he’s got a bit of a backbone, even though it often makes my life more difficult!

The meal was lovely, and Anthony got lots of fuss from passers-by who stopped to admire him. It was the first time we’d all been out properly as a family, and it was a really enjoyable experience. When the number of adults and children are equal, everything goes swimmingly. The problems only start to occur when I’m outnumbered!

To sum it all up, the day was pretty perfect, and has left me extremely  excited for our next venture out as a family of four. It’s a great time of year to have children and I can’t wait to carry on enjoying the festive season with the newest addition to our family on board

Today was my first day alone with the two children and I am happy to announce that it went without disaster! There were, however, one or two moments of despair, the first involving me leaving samuel alone in his booster chair with a pear and returning two minutes later to find the fruit smushed into a million pieces. I honestly didn’t even realise it was possible for a pear to turn into actual crumbs, but apparently it is. Samuel had a very guilty look on his face when I walked in the room, but if he thought he could cover up the fact he was literally covered head to toe in bits of evidence of his crime, he was sorely mistaken.

The second challenging moment where I almost lost my mind came when a box of tiny books I bought Samuel for his birthday kept magically finding their way off the bookcase where I kept putting them and onto the carpet. The pesky books were so determined to find their freedom, that they rebelled against me five or six times, coming out of their box and jumping into a big mess on the floor everytime I turned my back. Most curious!

On the plus side, I managed to achieve much more than I thought I would on day one. The three of us were all dressed, washed and fed by ten o’clock, the washing up got done, as did a portion of the Mount Everest pile of washing I have looming over me. Most importantly, there were hardly any tears (from me or the babies) and we’re starting to gel with our routine. Admittedly by four o’ clock, I was ready to turn in for the night, but at least all the extra running around will help the baby weight fall off! Now its time for me to turn in for a well-earned rest, ready to see what tomorrow brings!

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*Warning: This post candidly discusses the recovery process post-labour. If you are squeamish, do not read, although I will try not to be too graphic!*

On Saturday the 25th of November, the day before my son’s second birthday, I had a little bit of a scare. After waking up in the morning and feeling suprisingly well, I decided somewhat foolishly to drive to the supermarket on my own and do our food shop before we were due to go out in the afternoon. Thinking the labour recovery process was basically behind me, I sang all the way to the shop, in high spirits that I finally felt back to normal after a week of pain and struggling to sit down.

I did the shopping, feeling independent as I browsed the aisles, loaded up the heavy bags and carried them to the car by myself, driving home in the same happy mood that  I had left in.

I still felt physically well, so I was shocked to discover that I had had an unusually heavy bleed whilst out, my mood quickly turning from happiness to fear as I tried to work out what was causing the excessive loss I was experiencing.

In a panic, I started to worry that my stitches had come out and proceeded to phone the birthing unit I had not long since given birth in. The woman I spoke to on the phone suggested she get in contact with the community midwife and get her to come and check me over before they decided what to do next. I was very upset with the idea that I might have to be restitched, imagining having to start my recovery again from day one. When the midwife phoned me, however, I quickly changed my point of view to actually wanting the stitches to be the problem, rather than what she was suggesting may be the problem. She didn’t use the word “haemorrhage”, but I could tell from her tone of voice and the way she paused and stopped herself from sharing what she believed was going on that was what she was thinking. She advised I went into hospital as soon as possible, the stress in her voice evident through the phone as she offered to ring the ward to tell them I was coming, advising me to get ready as quickly as possible.

My fear turned to terror as we prepared to leave, my boyfriend doing his best to reassure me that everything would be okay as I felt the onset of a major panic attack brewing in my mind.

On the way to the hospital, I was a wreck. I was afraid that I was losing a dangerous amount of blood and would lose consciousness. I was also deeply upset at the thought of being admitted overnight and missing Samuel’s birthday, which I had been planning and preparing for since June. All I could think about was my two lovely boys at  home, and how badly I wanted to be  there with them instead of in this horrible situation. Suddenly, the stress over lack of sleep and trying to cope with two children faded into oblivion. I was given a completely new perspective. As long as I could return safely to them, I promised myself would deal with the hardships without complaining. I would be grateful for every day we were all healthy and happy.

Entering the hospital and treading the same corridors I had walked down just nine days before served as a bitter blow. The last time I had been there, I had been on my way to take my newborn baby home, elated beyond belief and brimming with pride that I had successfully brought him into the world. Little did I know that I would be back so soon, and under such frightening circumstances.

After a very brief wait, I was seen to straight away, relief surging through me as the midwife checked me over and told me everything was fine. In fact, she informed me, I’d healed much quicker than most other women did. She told me the bleed was more than likely caused by overexerting myself and cited my trip to the shop as being the trigger. I was advised to rest and sent home, feeling a little bit sheepish for how scared I had been considering that everything turned out to be okay.

The ordeal most definitely taught me a lesson. It reminded me that I’m not invincible, and also snapped me out of my tendancy to get worked up about things that don’t really matter. So far, I have kept my promise to myself, and have been taking all the difficulties  in stride. Ironically, Ive found that the less I worry, the easier things to seem to be, showing just how much of parenting comes down to state of mind. The next time I get in a tizzy, I intend to remind myself of the incident, and how much worse things could have been. After all, when it all comes down to it, the worst day with my children is still better than any day spent without them.

“One is like one, two is like twenty” is a saying I’ve heard thrown around so many times, but all throughout my pregnancy I told myself that there couldn’t be any truth in it. Surely, the leap from no children to one child was bigger than the leap from one child to two. Its only been eleven  days, but I already know that my optimism was seriously misplaced! If I had to sum up my experience of being a mum of two so far, I would say “rollarcoaster”. There are moments – whole days even -where I feel on top of the world, and there are also times where I feel so overwhelmed I don’t know what to do first. My mentality alternates between “you can do this” to “I don’t know what the Hell I’m doing” on a half-hourly basis. The end of my partner’s parternity leave is looming, and it both terrifies and excites me in equal measure that I will soon be solely responsible for two children. I’m fully prepared for the bad days I know there will inevitably be, but I’m also hopeful that they will be sandwiched in between lots of good days and laced with a series of happy memories I’ll treasure for years to come.

Everything feels brand new again. I had established a great routine with my eldest son that balanced his needs with my other responsibilites and even left time to spare that I used for writing both this blog and my book. Now I have to learn everything from scratch again, somehow working out a way to prioritise between the two children while trying to factor in writing my second book and not getting buried alive by the literal mountain of washing a family of four seem to produce on a daily basis.

I’ve only been left on my own with the two of them for a grand total of twenty minutes in the eleven days since baby number 2 was born, and both times have ended in chaos and a front room covered from wall to wall in toys. However, I feel ready for the challenges that lay ahead of me and am looking forward to experiencing the highs and tacking the lows, comforted in the knowledge that even if it all ends in disaster, it’ll all make a great story for then blog!

Last Thursday at 1.25pm our son, Anthony David Patrick was born, instantly transforming our family of three into a family of four. It’s taken me a few days to post about the event, partly because I’ve been in baby-love-land and partly because my brain is half exhausted from dealing with incidences of night time of colic. However, today I’m feeling inspired to write about the transformation and how one little baby boy has once again changed my life forever!

Anthony’s birth wasn’t great. Without going into the gory details, I will suffice to say that he weighed 9 pounds 6 when he was born and I definitely felt it. The labour lasted 11 hours and was completely exhausting, however I honestly don’t think there’s a better feeling in the world than the one where you hold your baby in your arms for the first time, the pain and struggle it took for them to get there forgottten almost immediately as you look at their wrinkly, purple face and fall head over heels in love with them.

When the birth was over, we were given our own room in the midwife led unit where I was able to relish in the comfort of a shower and clean sheets, free to stare at my new baby for as long as I saw fit (a long time). I was on top of the world. Anthony was here. The pain was over. My eldest son Samuel was having a great time with his grandad who had sent me pictures of their adventure to McDonald’s and mishap with a banana milkshake. My boyfriend was out getting me Burger King and the first proper, full fat coke I’d had in months. Life was good, the euphoria of the newest member of our family arriving far outweighing any of the physical discomfort I was in.

Throughout the pregnancy, I had found it hard to imagine how it would feel to have another child. I knew, of course, that I would love him to bits but already having a child who was the centre of my world made me wonder how this new baby would fit into our lives and into my affections . I didn’t think it was possible to love anyone as much as I love Samuel, but as soon as I laid eyes on Anthony my heart nearly burst and I realised there’s more than enough room for the both of them in there! It just means I’m twice as soppy as I was before!

Our family is now complete and we couldn’t be happier, despite having to go through more sleepless nights (my eldest son slept properly through the night for the first time ever literally the night that I went into labour! Just my luck) and start all over again with the baby thing, I already can’t imagine life without our littlest man (who really isn’t very little). Welcome to the world, Anthony! It’s a much better place with you in it

I didn’t realise how lost I had become in my own head. It’s easily done. Having stayed at home with my two-year-old son for the past few months, my thoughts have mostly been occupied by him, and the house and the impending arrival of my second baby. Usually, the only thing that runs through my mind is a list of what I need to do and what order I should do it in. Throw in ensuring that I spend quality time with Samuel each day, and obsessing over finding time to write, and there isn’t much space for anything else in my crowded brain.

This evening, I haven’t felt well. I’m three days overdue and feeling it. In fact, I’d even go so far to say that instead of feeling like a pregnant woman, I now feel like a pregnant hippo. Not even a regular hippo, a pregnant one, if you can imagine that. I decided after Samuel went to bed that I’d go upstairs and sit on my laptop and have some “chill out” time like I used to do regularly once upon a time in a different life. Utilising the rare opportunity of solitude, I decided to finally get round to listening to the Taylor Swift album.

The fact that this album has been out for three days and I still haven’t listened to it says A LOT about how my life has changed. I am a massive Taylor Swift fan and always have been, ( before it was cool!), right from the days of her very first album when people used to make fun of me for liking her (I know when I’m onto a good thing). For the release of 1989 in 2014, I stayed up until the early hours, waiting for midnight so I could buy the album and then listening to the songs on repeat all night. I am dedicated. I know every word to every song. So missing a new album by three days is a big deal to me. What was worse was that I didn’t care! I’ve spent so long thinking about babies, children, babies and more babies, that I seem to have forgotten about who I am and what I like.

It might sound cliche, but I feel like listening to the album has re-awoken a little part of my identity that had been long buried under piles of washing and dirty dishes. As I play the music, the songs take me back to a different time. Suddenly I can see myself and my boyfriend before we were so sensible and responsible, when we were at university and nothing really mattered. I’m transported back to my best friend Jack’s bedroom ( see featured image), listening to Taylor and drinking vodka lemonades as we get ready for a night of dancing and general chaos. This may not be my life anymore, but that version of me still exists in there somewhere, and it’s been refreshing to revisit her, even if it is just through a pair of headphones.

I’ll be brave and I’ll say it. I don’t like watching the same episode of Bing Bunny fifty times in a row. I don’t like Mr. Tumble. Mr. Maker has the ability to irritate me more than any other human on this Earth. Baby groups bore me. Soft play is among one of the most stressful experiences I’ve ever had in my life. I endure all of those things for my son because I love him, and because seeing him happy fulfils me more than my own happiness ever could. However, I think it’s important to remember what I enjoy once in a while, and even..dare I say it… indulge such things. To do something for myself and not feel guilty. Being a good mum doesn’t have to mean sacrificing every part of my identity. Some of it I can keep. Even if that simply means sitting in bed at nine o’ clock on a Monday night and listening to a really good Taylor Swift album.

With baby number 2 still not making an appearance, I’ve decided to write a blog post addressing how someone like myself, who isn’t a particular fan of anything sci-fi/fantasy (bar the big names like Harry Potter) ended up writing a novel in this genre! As I scrolled through my blog, it suddenly struck me how out of place it seemed. There amongst all the posts about being a mum and dealing with realistic, day-to-day issues are posts plugging a novel set 100 years in the future on a giant spacecraft travelling to a new planet. It occurred to me that I had never explained how the idea came to be, because, in truth, it is MUCH more relevant to the topics I blog about and my life as a mum in general than it seems.

I was sitting in bed alone in early 2016. My son, Samuel, was just two months old, and was sleeping soundly in the cot beside me. I’d been watching “In The Club” on BBC1 and was in the middle of relaxing and having some “me” time when the news came on. I don’t usually watch the news, but that night I didn’t get up to change the channel in time and was sucked in by the first round of Headlines.

Every story was doom and gloom. ISIS, North Korea, global warming, antibiotics running out, the “Brexit” debate and what the consequences of leaving the EU could be. To top all this off there was a feature about the “Doomsday clock”- a clock that Scientists set each year to symbolise how close they think we are to the Apocalypse with “midnight” meaning the end. That year, they had announced it was set at “11:58 p.m”.

Needless to say after watching this I felt incredibly shaken, depressed and vulnerable. Here I was trying to care for a tiny baby, with no way of being able to control any of the disastrous things that could potentially happen in his lifetime. As a new mum, I was extra sensitive to everything anyway, and was less able to brush things off as I would have normally. I found myself lying awake in the dark, completely unable to sleep as I worried myself sick about what was going to happen to the world.

Then an idea came into my head. What if, somehow, humanity could have a second chance? What if we built a big spaceship, big enough for everyone to live on for many years, and went off to start again on a new world. It was a far-fetched concept, but imagining it was a possibility was enough to help me drift off to sleep.

The next day, I kept thinking about my daydream. What would it be like taking such a journey? Who would be allowed on the ship and why? Where would the destination be? The story started form in my mind, characters and plot lines evolving naturally- a lot of them based on elements of my real life.

At the heart of my story are the issues that I blog about. Motherhood, the experience of having children, how far we would go to protect them, the struggles we face and the rewards we gain from it. The central themes of the book are still family, relationships, upbringing and the differentiating bonds parents and children have. It may be set around a futuristic mystery, but I wove so much of my personal thoughts, feelings and experiences into it that I think it’s still relatable and relevant to life in the present day!

Hopefully this post ties together the two different elements of my writing- this blog and the book- which seem unrelated but really go hand in hand! The world hasn’t changed much since I came up with the idea for the book, but over time I’ve managed to replace the overwhelming fear with hope, and the ability to appreciate each happy, normal day we have as a family, instead of worrying about what may be. And who knows… maybe someone from NASA will read the book and decide to turn the fantasy into a reality