Cat-astrophes

So the plan was to have a beautiful, graceful drug-free hypnobirth and come out the other side 3 days later with make up intact, cleaning done, baby sleeping and a tea in hand whilst typing away about how wonderful motherhood is.

Instead I was cut open after a plethora of pain relievers, opted for early discharge after 4 days because my 'roomie's' Big Fat Egyptian Family came to stay in and out of visiting hours, and set out on a 6 week recovery, crying bub attached to bleeding nipples, dreaming of a shower whilst my hubby did the house work.

I've installed a Blogging app on my phone. With a bit of luck I can provide a chuckle with my good old friend 'autocorrect'.

Okay so maybe I'm being a little dramatic. I wasn't *that* naive, however I also wasn't *that* prepared for what was in store either.

This little thing cries at me, pukes on me, poos on me, keeps me awake at night, is the reason for my oily hair, daggy trackies, stretchmarks and floppy belly...but she melts my heart. With one gaze, goo or gassy smile she has me in pieces. And I wasn't prepared for that.