Five years since trying to become a mum and nearly six months since becoming one

Sometimes I want so much to provide everything for you that I could spontaneously lactate...

But instead I find that I am in such a constant state of anxiety about time that I could spontaneously combust. I need to change my life so that I don't feel as though I am rushing all the time. I need to learn to forget about dust and sticky floors, in favour of a few extra minutes with you. Otherwise it's very easy to spend a whole day with you without actually interacting much. Sometimes I catch myself all day long saying – in a minute, just a minute, I'll be right there, hold on, Mama will be right with you, and so on.

It's no good, I don't want to be like that. I want to have more time with you, properly with you. Not sure if that requires total change of life or if it just requires small adjustments in my quotidian habits. Some things I cannot change, like how long the bloody journey home is. That particular stress starts in the morning, cos if it takes me longer than expected to get in, then I can't leave when I normally do and I miss your evening routine. Can you tell I didn't pause for breath even typing that. It feels like a massive achievement when I have a day with time on my side, those are precious days indeed.

Even now as I do this, Pa Cooke is tinkering with dinner and I can sense his anticipation of me coming down so we can eat. He thinks I'm still putting you to bed, but you dropped off instantly after your day of climbing on and into things.

Ah, the call to arms has come while I upload the image. Well, the call to dinner, so I must go mid thought.

PS You snore.

Nearly five years since trying to become a mum and five and a half months since becoming one

I snapped at someone recently for referring to Birth Mother, which I find hard enough to say, as your mother. It's not that I have anything against her, at all, but she has not been your mother in any sense of the word other than biological. And the conditions of that happening are less than ideal. I'm Louse's mother, I said quite sharply, not inviting further discussion and intending to make them realise what they said upset. I felt bad afterwards, but I also forgive myself given how hard we had to work to get here. People say insensitive things without thinking, no malice intended, but thoughtless nonetheless.

And yesterday, we all went to Oldest Best Friend's Burns lunch; a big affair, lots of people I know and sort of know. I tried out not mentioning the adoption, although I know some of them were doing the maths and thinking, wait a minute, she wasn't pregnant... but it doesn't matter, it's time to be a family without the label. It was nice to reply to someone I hadn't seen in three years, yes, we have had a baby. No further explanation. When she asked if we would have another (why are people so obsessed with this?) I said well, Louse came along a little unexpectedly after a long time so yes we'd like another, but we'll see.

I kind of felt like they could all see through me, but I'm sure they couldn't. It is after all quite normal for people to get pregnant and have babies in the space of a couple of years. I forget that sometimes.

I used you as an excuse to swerve the haggis neeps and tatties, never liked that stuff. I'll eat in a minute I said thinly, meanwhile scoffing the children's food sneakily, pretending to feed it to a disinterested you. Ironically, you were enjoying the haggis.

Nearly five years since trying to become a mum and nearly five months since becoming one

It's just after 7 and you are snoozing and snoring after a hard day's play.

My thoughts for today little Louse are that a) I don't like being at work, even part time, away from you and b) following reading Why Love Matters I am thinking that I identify with several of the behaviours associated with personality disorders.

a) It breaks the parenting continuum in a way that I don't like. It's just too soon for me to have gone back, but we had no choice. I worry that it's affecting you negatively, but I hope that I'm wrong. After all, you are with Dad, not bundled into a nursery already, and your days with him are entertainment-filled. And I make sure I can get home in time for dinner / bath & bed. That last bottle is the time I most enjoy because I have you all to myself, you're clean and sleepy and we have a good old cuddle. It's my quiet time as much as yours. At some point I suppose I have to give it up? Before we got you, I thought oh it'll be fine, three months is ok. But I soon realised it's nothing, for either of us. I feel cheated and quite angry that I had to go back, but it's not anyone's fault, just the way things ended up. Pa Cooke, much as he loves his days with you, misses working and I think would love to swap places with me. Look at us all modern, role swapping, and not liking it. Typical. I tell myself this will change within the year. Not sure how, just thinking that it will.

b) In the same way that many many things from serious to utterly non life threatening, have general symptoms like nausea & headaches, since reading the chapter on personality disorder types in that book, I find myself thinking, hold on, that's me, I do that, I'm like that, I had a bit of that growing up. Then I think, oh god, am I going to mess you up? Then I think about the nappy rash or the food we're feeding you and I wonder if we've already broken you, as it were. Parenting is a mine field. But I choose not to read the manuals because I think they will only confuse me further and I will fixate on things eg things you should be doing and will no doubt do in your own time anyway, but might not be doing in the exact week the book says you ought. I find the whole NCT mums' groups draining for the same reasons. Individually all very nice women, but put them together in a soft play area and arrrgghhh, I want to run screaming. I start to behave in a very juvenile way, being a bit aloof and pretending to be way more casual than I am, just so I'm not like them. Of course I can't join in the pregnancy/birthing/breast feeding/when am I having the next child conversations anyway, but it's not even that. Or is it. Am I in denial. See, unable to identify my feelings = personality disorder...

This week you have learned how to make your hands into a jellyfish and sing the first two words of Bah bah black sheep.

Nearly five years since trying to become a mum and four months three weeks since becoming one

It's interesting to see what friends slip away once you become a parent and which friends remain present. Since I myself found that, at times, I could not be around people with kids, I do understand that it is hard to be in the company of people who have what you want. And yet, I feel as though I am being penalised for having a partner and a child. But nothing is ever quite what it seems from the outside. I think I have had every single emotion under the sun in the last five months, good and bad, and I have struggled to share them. So, even if temporarily, losing friends is not great.

I am so acutely aware that everything I do and say matters now, when I'm with you anyway. Every interaction we have gets projected forward into the future – when you start school, when you're a teenager, when you're an adult, by which time I will be knocking on a lot! I suppose because you are not my biological child, I wonder what those elements are, the ones that are not nurture, the ones that I cannot control, that will take hold of you or not. Considering your birth mother's story, I wonder how much of her struggle might somehow find it's way into you. You do look like her.

My mum, your Granny, has just been visiting and I found myself observing the role I had during the visit, as both mother and daughter. I want you to be able to talk to me, to tell me things, especially difficult things, I want you to be able to cry in front of me, to say I love you without cringing, I want you to bring friends to our house and to want to be around us. And yet, I struggle to say I love you to my mum, I rail against letting her in fully as though I have to protect her from my emotions. I think I feel like she's not strong enough to take them, even though I rationally know that she is. And on the other hand, in so many ways I am replicating how I was brought up because I think I was well brought up! My mum never pushed me to do or be anything in particular, she let me spread my wings, she knows I am stubborn and willful, and she learned quickly I presume that I will do the opposite if cornered into do something I don't want to. These are the things that I hope I can do for you.

We took Granny to the train today and then went to see a solicitor to start the final adoption proceedings. On the way we stopped into Coram, where we did the initial training sessions two years ago. Several people were buzzing about, cooing about how lovely you are and one of them made a comment which pleased me immensely – she said "she knows where she belongs doesn't she".

If I had a feathered chest it would have puffed out considerably.

Four years, ten months since trying to become a mum and four months two weeks and a few days since becoming one

I am here, on computer. And you are next door in your room. Dad is out braving the EXTREME WEATHER (worst winter in 30 years blah blah blah). You are sneezing, pretend sneezing, laughing, watching CBeebies, reading books, and now suddenly randomly pretend crying. Might be snack time or entertain me time. But let's see if I can squeeze another couple of minutes of me time (horrid expression).

Yesterday, and possibly the day before, were very bad days. A black cloud of emotion washed over me. Mostly PMT I guess given that I am now "embarassed" as the French say, but emotions nonetheless real, powerful and extremely negative. You were being very jolly and I was really struggling to reciprocate. Quietness was the best I could muster and I felt very very bad for being like that around you. I don't want to poison you with my stuff and I absolutely must find a way to cope with those days when they happen. At least they are fairly predictable as today I feel infinitely better.

It's quite staggering how all enveloping those emotions are though. I was looking at you, doing whatever you were doing and being gorgeous, and I felt so removed from your world. I had also had two days at work, not being around you after the Christmas break and being around you all the time. That's another thing, I don't want to be at work really – given that it was a long journey to get to you, I miss you when at work and though it's only couple of days a week, I'd rather not be doing it.

But back to the black cloud... I have a very good pal from university with whom I talk about the black cloud, and she has 4 kids. We laugh about it and it definitely helps sharing, but in the moment of the last two days, I could not share with anyone despite knowing that's what I needed to do to get out of my own head. I suppose I know it will pass pretty quickly so I tread water. Still, now that you are with us, it's something I need to be able to manage because the last thing I want is you growing up with a miserable mum once a month.

We're going to take you out in the sledge today. And accordingly we have dressed you leisure wear. You look like Al Pacino in that film where he's a retired flabby mobster constantly at home in a tracksuit watching telly.

Four years, ten months since trying to become a mum and four months two weeks since becoming one

Recently, I've found myself have moments of intense realisation that I am a mother.

They are not overwhelming as such, but it's almost like being physically smacked in the head as my mind races through the years to come and the challenges that we shall inevitably face. Of course I focus on the challenges rather than all the lovely times there will be, for they will be pleasant and not in need of me worrying about them. But I know the information about your birth that you will have to face, digest and live with, and I know that you are a feisty little thing, strong willed and stubborn, as am I, so no doubt there will be clashes there. We have been well matched indeed. Right now you have already come to understand that we are your mummy & daddy, you seem to accept that unconditionally, and every passing day makes the bond stronger between us three. I look at you when you're swaggering around the living room bashing things and pulling faces, and think – bloody hell, you're mine you are. "Mine". I know.

I think I only ever wanted to be a mother, my career has been a happy accident. I took my time getting there for all sorts of reasons, before mother nature even showed her hand. And then when she did, I had to work very hard to make it happen; I had to answer questions that I found vexing, I had to be nice to people that I wanted to punch, I had to think about all the various possibilities of how to become a mother, what sort of mother to be, what sort of child to have, how many children to potentially have. I jumped hurdle after hurdle to get to you and as soon as I saw the first photo of you when it was emailed to me, I hadn't even read the short profile yet, all the years of trying and treatments and bureaucracy and hoop-jumping receded into the distance; they even made sense because perhaps it had to be just this moment in order to wait for you.

So is it odd that I now have moments of thinking... *hit, I'm a mum. This little one is dependent on me. Me. Me who it turns out has avoided commitment, despite thinking I am fine with it. Me who rather enjoys fannying about drinking coffee (eating cake) and doing nothing much. Me who loves being available for people in crisis at the drop of a hat and being socially tres occupe. And me, who worries a lot and has moments of deep fear about dying and the pointlessness of it all.

Err...

I'll just keep doing what I've always done, put one foot in front of the other and trust. Trust what? Not sure. The universe. Me. Time. The ebb and flow. Tomorrow.

You are being an absolute doll at the moment, funny and very loving. You do something new on an almost daily basis and you say the word "shoes" in the most brilliant way.