The excuse fest

It’s been a while hasn’t it?! Let me introduce myself . . .

My name is Anna Bloom and sometimes, just sometimes, I write books.

I’ve got a bucketful of excuses for why I have been missing off practically all social media for the last ten months—why really in all honesty I haven’t done anything with my “Author” side of my life. Last time I wrote on this blog I was pregnant and feeling upbeat and super excited about everything, life in general. Yeah, that lasted about a week, then I was tired, grumpy, exceptionally huge and genuinely having a very complicated pregnancy. It was all a bit stressful and I seriously needed to re-order my life. I couldn’t take care of my family, giant bump, cope with extended trips to hospital and also worry about my books. Family had to come first.

So anyway, roll on a few (uncomfortable) months and we ended up having an emergency C-Section at 37 weeks, on Christmas Eve in fact. It was a miracle I made it that far considering I went into early labour at 33 weeks. All in all we were just relieved that it was finally going to be over, the kids were hyped, my mum dad and sister were at home all preparing for Christmas and the arrival of Baby No3 when the one thing that none of us were expecting happened. The baby was delivered but not breathing.

Here’s the thing. No matter what I write, no matter what words I find, I will never, ever, be able to describe the ten minutes we spent waiting for her to cry. I could have died. I couldn’t breathe, my arms were aching with this need to reach out and help, the whole time the midwife kept turning to us and saying “It’s okay, Mum, I’m not worried yet.” She kept saying it right until the point when she was worried and suddenly all the cavalry were called in. I don’t really remember all of this—I actually went into shock, my brain just shut down.

But, and for the rest of my life I will give thanks for this, they managed to get her breathing, not well, but alive and that’s what mattered.

So Thea Mae entered our lives in a truly dramatic fashion. She spent a week in intensive care, for three days very very poorly. I was torn in a way I’d never been before. I had two children at home, it was Christmas, their baby sister was in an incubator on oxygen it was a terrible terrible nightmare so in the end I decided that once I was up and about I’d go home and commute in to take care of Thea during the day. It was tough going and looking back now I know I made life crazy hard for myself. I should have just stayed in the hospital and let them bring me food and cups of tea with biscuits, but hindsight is a bitch, and really there is no amount of sense that can be talked into a woman who has just been through the biggest trauma of her life. We muddled through and that’s all that matters.

Finally Thea was home. It was amazing, we had those lovely two weeks where they are so sleepy they don’t wake up and you tell yourself having a baby is all so easy, and question what there was to be worried about. Uh, hello. COLIC. Yes that word has to be in capital letters. Thea then got COLIC and cried, screamed, went purple, burst veins in her face until she was around sixteen weeks old. She’s now 21 weeks and I’m just starting to get a grip on things. Crying isn’t twenty hours a day anymore, she smiles and giggles and I love her with every single shred of my being.

I will never until the day I die forget the moment I was immobilised on that theatre bed and I thought she wasn’t going to make it. She will be sixteen and running rings around me and I will probably forgive her anything because the fear of losing her is so extreme.

In truth I’m not writing much at the moment, I’m not really doing very much at all except existing and getting through every single day and every day gets better and better. This week I’ve started exercising again—Thea did a true number on me, and I’ve gone from a size 10 to a 14 (I did say it was a complicated pregnancy!) But slowly I’m finding myself again. I’m playing with book ideas and I’ve got three definite books in mind, some of them are even half written. It’s just at the moment I need to be me. I need to sit on the floor and make my baby giggle without worrying about writing on my blog or checking FB. I need to sit down in the evening, exhausted, and know I don’t have to feel guilty about watching telly and not writing. I’m not a career writer. I write from the heart and I write stories that I love BUT my family will always, always, come first.

In a couple of weeks I will be attending the Four Brits Book Fest in Birmingham and it will be my first time out as an author. It will also be my first time away from Thea. But in truth I’m not going to be the same woman attending as I would have been when I signed up. I changed dramatically on Christmas Eve, probably forever. But I will be there to have a laugh, I can’t wait to meet readers, I’ve got pre-orders from people who want signed copies—this totally blows my mind! It’s going to be a great couple of days.

So anyway there are my excuses . . . I think they are quite convincing myself!

There will be a new book from me, but not until next year. I will post on my blog, but it will probably be pictures of my baby. I will one day create a balance between who I was before and the mother of three that I now am, but it’s going to take time. I just hope you guys all stick around while I get there.