Yesterday I left Busby for the first time since she’s been on this planet, and it was horrible. Well, the freedom was rather liberating, but the feeling of being away from her turned me into a nervous wreck. My in-laws are down at the moment, so Nick and I took advantage of the Grandparent Babysitting Service to get on with some jobs that have been outstanding since Busby’s birth. Please note, that it’s not that I don’t trust my in-laws with Busby, on the contrary there aren’t many other people I’d feel safer leaving her with, and they are more than capable having raised three very lovely, successful men. It was more the fact that I was leaving her and she wasn’t just downstairs having cuddles…she was a good 10 miles away! 

As I walked through the backstreets of Brighton to return the nursing hammocks that M&S had very incorrectly sized me as 39.5 weeks pre-Busby (I could fit one of the cups on my head as a hat), I realised that I’m now alone. For the last 9 months I’ve always had her there with me, albeit very silently, but I’ve always known that there was someone else there; if I felt lonely, or frightened, or just fancied a one-sided chat I could rub my Bump and talk away in the knowledge that she was there listening. This realisation yesterday made me feel quite sad… and very lonely. It’s been wonderful always having her there, and I do feel a little empty now she’s not squirming and kicking inside me. 

When I returned home, and she was back in my arms, I gave her an extra big cuddle and have barely let go of her since! It’s amazing how much I love my baby. 

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