They are loud places not very conducive to sleeping. You get checked on a lot. The baby gets checked on a lot.
IVs are not only gross to look at, but they make it super-hard to move around. And sleep. And breastfeed.
They give you a helluva lot of needles. My right arm still has massive black and purple bruises the size of coffee table rings.
You are living in a vacuum with no sense of time. Even though there is a clock on the wall opposite your bed, you can’t seem to remember (A) when you last fed the baby (B) when you last took your meds (C) when you last ate, or (D) when you last got up to pee
It will annoy you that your husband will sleep SO WELL on a crappy cot, while you are struggling to get to sleep in your bed. You will wish desperately for his ability to fall asleep anywhere, anytime.
I’m Heather Laura Clarke. I’m a writer living in beautiful Nova Scotia, I have a 12-year-old son and a 10-year-old daughter, I married my high school sweetheart, and this is the story of my handmade life.
I have depression and anxiety, and I fight like hell every day to keep them from taking over my life. Creating things helps.
Whether I’m writing novels, decorating a room, busting out my power tools to build furniture, getting muddy in the pottery studio, sewing clothes, or cross-stitching a swear word, I’m all about using my creativity to craft a life I love.
I’ve been writing this blog since 2009, so if you dig deep into the archives, you’ll meet a bright-eyed 25-year-old newlywed who was basically obsessed with having kids, buying a cozy house, and supporting herself full-time with her writing. (Spoiler alert: she got exactly what she wanted.)