So, it’s 2017.
Just exactly where the second half of 2016 went I don’t know; last time I checked it August and I was literally sweating (thanks to our Indian summer and the joy of postnatal night sweats) my way through a never-ending cycle of newborn nappy changes and hourly feeds, fuelled by coffee, adrenaline and Go-Ahead bars.
My days, indeed my weeks, were blank canvases: limitless time to gaze in awe and adoration at the beautiful being I had created; welcoming visitors who would gush over how perfect he is and how well I look; proudly pushing my extortionately overpriced pram around sunny parks, Louis Armstong’s What a Wonderful World playing on a continuous loop in my head as the new soundtrack to my life…
Of course, in-between these rose-tinted moments, much of my time was spent in slightly cheesy-smelling pyjamas, staring bleary-eyed at Phillip and Holly snorting their way through one unfortunate innuendo after another, whilst said beautiful being lacerated my nipples and I tried to convince myself it’s perfectly normal to cry uncontrollably because your husband bought the wrong brand of coffee (note: prior to Leo’s birth I didn’t even drink coffee, so it’s not like I could actually tell the difference).
But I digress – there will be time to reflect life with a newborn (I mean, as a new mother I have an abundance of free time right?) What I’m trying to say (in my characteristically waffly way) is that, somehow, 4 months have passed without me really noticing and I have logged on to find numerous incomplete draft blog posts, many of which I can’t remember starting and certainly have no clue how to finish.
That is NOT to say, that the intended recipient of these ramblings hasn’t been a constant presence in my mind. I called this blog Postcards for Findlay because it started life as just that – a series of letters and notes to my baby boy; the one who is, and will forever be, missing from the photographs and experiences of our lives. That was the point of writing: it was to act as a means of including him in the events and sharing memories with him.
And what began as a bit of therapy for myself actually turned into something enjoyable. I used to love reading and writing but found that over the last few years that life, as it so often does, got in the way. So this year, I have decided to make it my New Years resolution is to write. I’m not going to promise every week, or even every month, but I will write. Write about him, write about our family, write about anything really.
This will be his legacy.
Happy new year everybody…let’s see what 2017 has in store.