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.