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So the number of vasectomies has halved in the last 10 years. Perhaps it’s not just my husband who thinks that if he goes for the snip he will come home minus his “man power”.

He thinks that the second they tie his tubes he will instantly speak in a higher voice and not be able to lift heavy items.  “I’ll be docile and shy, like a dog whose just had a haircut” he said.

We lost a dear friend this week. It was sudden, it was shocking. It's turned our world on its head. All the things I thought were important suddenly seem so trivial.

The husband had a £20 bottle of wine in the fridge for almost a year. Deemed too good to drink any old time. It was being saved for an occasion that was worthy. We finally drank it in front of "Take Me Out". That suddenly seemed special enough.

Finally slipping into bed at night, I register, briefly, the fact I am not coping.
Then one of the children wake wanting me, or sleep’s leaded fingers pull wool over my eyes, and I forget about it again for a bit.

I must pop it on one of my many to-do lists 'Have postnatal breakdown' then under it, as always 'buy milk and fabric softener'.

How decadent to have a breakdown. How does one do it exactly?

Oh to be a toddler

And find wonder in the plastic tie of a bread bag
Or your own foot
To be able to talk to yourself whilst dressed as a wizard
Without judgement

I gave birth ten weeks ago and I adore my new daughter. When she smiles at me it actually hurts me because I love her so very much. I love the smell of her head, and the way she tries to hold onto things with her feet. She amazes me. I am amazed I created her. She is a miracle.

Why then, cannot I not give myself the break I deserve and enjoy her instead of worrying about my baby weight?