Letter to my husband

To my beloved husband during the loss of our baby,

First of all I just want to say that I love you. When I was diagnosed with depression, you stood by me. Even when I tried to push you away or keep you at arms length, you stayed. You have always been my biggest supporter. Through everything you have remained unwavering, loving, compassionate and understanding. I don’t think I would have ever made it through without you.

I’m so sorry that you are going through this. I keep forgetting that while I am experiencing a miscarriage emotionally, physically and mentally, you are always grieving the loss of your child, my love. I don’t think I have seen you shed a tear yet but I have felt your loving embrace while I’ve sobbed myself to sleep. I’ve heard your comforting voice telling me to breathe when I’ve become so consumed by my tears that it has become hard to breathe. You are always by my side being my rock, my constant but who is looking after you while you grieve the loss of our baby?

People keep asking me how I am doing but I think people forget that you experiencing this as well. You fielded all the well-meaning family when I couldn’t even comprehend the word miscarriage, you told your family that they needed to keep our niece away from me when I see how much you love being around her and you made sure that I got out of bed everyday and got dressed even when I didn’t feel like it.

I know that as a father, you are being forgotten about. People seem to forget because I had a more physical connection to our baby but you had an equally real and powerful one with our baby as well. Your connection is just as real and necessary and broken as mine now is. They don’t realise that you want a tattoo, like I do, to commemorate the loss of our little angel because it was your loss as well as mine.

Through all of this, you’ve looked after me because I know how scared you are of losing your wife to depression again. I know you are terrified that I’m going to be overtaken by the evil, consuming monster that is depression. I remember how I was on my worst days; laughing one minute and then becoming irrational and violent the next. I remember the days when I wouldn’t eat or get out of bed or the days when I moved out because I just couldn’t cope being around your mum, dad, brother or niece anymore. I never rejected you. You were the only thing that I knew I needed to get better for.

But my love, I don’t want you to fear. I don’t feel like I am going that way. I am just grieving in the same way that you are. I’m grieving the loss of our baby that was made because of our love. I’m grieving our family Christmas that we had imagined and the bath times that we had discussed so that you didn’t miss them. I’m grieving the fact that you would make such an amazing dad and you couldn’t wait to be one and that has been so cruelly taken away from you. I’m not just grieving for myself, I’m grieving for you as well.

I just want you to know that it’s okay. It’s okay if one day you want to break down and cry because I can assure you I will be there for you in the same way that you are for me. You don’t have to be strong all the time because I can be strong for you. I made vows when we married that I would be the light in the darkness and the rainbow at the end of the storm. I promised that I would be there for you always and I am your constant, your rock just like you are mine. I will give you the same compassion, understanding, love that you’ve given me because we are partners in all of this.

We will make it through this, my love, and we will get our rainbow baby. I promise you that you will be a dad one day.

I love you always Mr S.

Mrs S x


Stages of grief – Denial and anger

Every week since I found out that I was miscarrying has been a difficult week but this week has been particularly trying.

I was scrolling through Facebook when an acquaintance had announced that she was expecting her own little baby. I cried. I hid the post but I cried. I cried because I should’ve been announcing my own pregnancy in a couple of weeks. I cried because I should have a scan of the miracle that was growing inside of me. I felt so incredibly angry at this girl for having something that I so desperately wanted, that I had waited so long for but it had been cruelly snatched away from me. In that moment, I was jealous. Why did this girl get to carry her first baby without a hitch but I had lost my special baby? After this thought, I hated myself even more. I should have been happy for this girl but I was far from it.

I’m currently speaking to a counsellor (due to my depression) and she assured me that these feelings are normal. Apparently it’s part of the grieving process, the 5 stages and this week I definitely feel as if I’ve hit the anger and denial stages.

I’m so angry at the world because it makes no sense to me. I have no reason. I have nothing that explains why my baby had to leave before they had barely developed. I had wanted this baby for a year and a half so why was it taken from me? I’m angry at myself because it feels as if it was my fault that my baby died. My body essential killed my baby and I just can’t think of why it would do that. I hate my own body for doing that and I feel so betrayed by my body for it. I’m angry about my weight, if I had not eaten the junk food that I had eaten or I had lost a stone or more before I had conceived, maybe my baby would still be alive. I’m angry at the caffeine that I drank, at the lack of exercise, at the crying that I did, at all the negative thoughts that I had, at keeping my pregnancy a secret. All of things contribute to my feelings of blame. Blame at myself for the loss of my baby.

I went for a meal with family over the weekend. I knew being around babies was going to be hard but I didn’t realise I would feel so hurt being around toddlers. My dad was running around playing with them and so was my husband and I just couldn’t put on the brave face anymore. I got into my dad’s car and cried all the way home. That’s what my dad and my husband should’ve been doing with my baby, they should’ve been looking forward to the newest addition to the family. I was angry because I wouldn’t be giving my husband a baby that he clearly so desperately wanted, the baby we had both been looking forward to.

On Monday, we went to my in-laws and our 8 month old niece was there. My husband was playing with her on his knee and cooing. I couldn’t help thinking about how amazing he would’ve been with our baby and that devastation returned. I cried and my husband immediately put her back on her play-mat. I felt like such a selfish person that my husband couldn’t even play with his own niece but he respected my feelings and respected me. We had completely forgotten that my in-laws had her on Mondays. I won’t be making that mistake anytime soon.

I’m in denial. There’s a split second in the morning, when I wake up, where I forget that I’m miscarrying. For that split second, I still think I’m pregnant and then I remember and a tsunami of guilt and grief and sadness drowns me. My mind just can’t process that this is happening, that all my worst nightmares have come true, that I am losing my baby. I am reminded every day by the blood and the pain that I am miscarrying my baby that I don’t think I’ve even processed that this is happening to me.

I think to Christmas and my husband and me had already planned a Christmas with a baby. We were excited to decorate the Christmas tree with our baby and buy Christmas presents. I just can’t even think about it now without crying.

I’ve had to decide how I feel about going back to work on Monday and I just don’t feel like I can. I don’t feel ready. The thought of work gives me anxiety. Even during my lowest point of my depression, I went to work. My job, teaching, was my escape. It was the place where I always felt myself. Taking 3 weeks off work is a huge decision but one that I needed to take. I could not stand in front of my children and give them the best possible education that they deserve. I could not stand there and not cry because the truth is, I am still in so much pain – mentally, physically and emotionally. I still don’t think that I can go to work on Monday. I’m trying to sort out a sick note for another 2 weeks and then I’m hoping to return after the half-term but right now I’m just not ready. It hurts my professional pride to admit that because I’ve never missed a day of work in 3 years. I go in even if I’m poorly but I just can’t. This just adds to my feeling of failure and guilt. Failure because my body did not carry my baby even though it was designed to do that. I just feel like a failure.

I’m also terrified. The EPU took more blood on Tuesday and told me that my hormone levels had gone down to 799. This meant that they were no longer monitoring me because my levels had come down enough. Nearly 3 weeks later and I’m still bleeding. They want me to take a pregnancy test in 3 weeks. I would be returning to work that week and I’m terrified of the pain I know I’m going to feel at seeing a negative test. I just don’t want to take it. Rationally, I know I should because it would mean that we can start trying for a baby again but I just know it will knock whatever progress I have made over the next 3 weeks.

Mostly I’m just terrified that this may happen again. I’m scared that this miscarriage will mean that, although I can conceive, I will never carry a baby to term, that I will never give birth, that I will never feel a kick or hear a squeal, that I will never carry a baby in my arms but all of them in my heart. I’m terrified I will never be able to give my husband a child.

I also feel disgusted in myself, that even though I’m still miscarrying, because I want to start trying for a baby again as soon as I stop bleeding. I’m just so angry with myself for thinking about this even though I’m still losing our little baby.

I am just in so much emotional turmoil and pain this week that I feel as if I will never feel better.

Mrs S.

Letter to the EPU

To the midwives, nurses and doctors that treated me on the worst day of my life,

I came to you on the 27th April. To you, I was just another face, another patient, another woman that was going to become part of the ‘1 in 4’ statistic. I came to you with a tiny bit of hope when I already knew that my baby had died.

You will forget about me but I will never forget your faces. I will never forget the emotions I felt. I will never forget that ward and I will never forget your treatment.

Please know that I’ve always supported the NHS. You work so hard and receive such little praise. I know what that feels like. I know how it feels to be villainised by the media. I’m a teacher; we too are villainised.

I wish what I was going to write was going to be filled with nothing but praise. Believe me, I wish I could but I just can’t.

Me and my husband came to you as new parents. Enthusiastic, excited brand new parents who were expecting our first baby. My husband had hope but I had none. Call it mother’s intuition. But the treatment we experienced by you left us broken and feeling like we didn’t matter. After all, we were now the statistic.

I was supposed to go for a scan at 12 weeks to hear our baby’s heartbeat, to see our little squidge jumping around. We were supposed to be overjoyed. Instead our scan happened at what we thought was our 11th week because of bleeding. We were ushered into the scan and I was asked if it was okay for a student to be there. I, of course, agreed. I was a student learning my profession once so I understand the sentiment of passing it on. It was a male, which I didn’t mind.

What I did mind was the lack of information about my own pregnancy, my own body. You spoke in nothing but jargon. Jargon only you would understand. You made us feel even more isolated and afraid than we already did. As I said, I’m a teacher and I know that when I speak, I need to ensure my students understand what I am trying to convey. You didn’t even extend that courtesy to us.

You then had to do a scan transvaginally. I again allowed the student to do it and again, we received no information. You didn’t even show us the screen. We never got to see our baby or the sac. You made me feel as if I was lying about my pregnancy, as if it wasn’t real. I am still questioning myself; did my pregnancy really happen?

You told us the worst possible news in such a cold way. As irrational as it sounds, I hated all 3 of you then. 3 of you were in the room, none of you treated me with compassion or decency. None of you treated me like a patient or the afraid mother that I was. You were more concerned with your student.

I understand that to you our baby wasn’t a baby. They were just a cluster of cells or an empty sac but to me and my husband that was a baby we had so desperately wanted.

If I had to speak to a student of mine about a difficult situation, I wouldn’t allow a student teacher to be there, not unless I asked first. You didn’t even ask if that student could remain while you broke all of hopes and dreams. You didn’t just break them, you shattered them.

Then I had to see another midwife to be told that the scan was inconclusive. This would mean that I had to come in for another blood test on Sunday 29th. You gave my husband hope but I knew that my baby had gone. You sent us off to the blood unit and you didn’t explain anything. All you could say was ‘1 in 4 early pregnancies end in miscarriage. This is a common occurrence.’

You belittled my pregnancy. You belittled my pain. You belittled my grief. While this may be common to you, this was not common to me and my husband. This was our first little miracle. Our first baby. You forgot to treat me like a patient. This was not common to us. This was completely devastating. A huge, traumatic event in our lives. Miscarriage may be common, but it is not normal and should never be made out to be normal nor should it be made out to be common to the mother that is sat in front of you. That is a person who has dreamed about how to decorate the nursery, looked at baby names, told her friends and family, spoken to her child everyday. Losing her baby, her child is not normal or common.

I was sent away more broken than when I arrived. One of your colleagues told me that you were looking for an ectopic pregnancy. I knew with no medical knowledge that it wasn’t. I would never be able to see my baby. You never asked me if I wanted to see the scan. You never gave me that opportunity. Is that normal?

I came back on Sunday and it was the same 6 people and a rage burned inside of me but my grief was what showed. I hated you all. I hated your treatment of me. I hated being poked and prodded with needles. I hated the fact that you belittled my trauma.

You took the blood and sent me away. No more information other than to tell me my pregnancy definitely wasn’t ectopic and that I would have the results by the afternoon. As soon as you told me it wasn’t ectopic, my already wavering faith in you left. It appeared to me that you didn’t know what you were talking about. You told me that the scan clearly showed that it wasn’t ectopic.

I then came back on Tuesday. This time I felt stronger. I came armed with questions and yet I left feeling confused. You couldn’t even tell me how you would deal with my anxiety if I was to get pregnant again. You said that it wasn’t your problem but I thought that midwives looked after mothers and their babies. That wasn’t helping or looking after me. I saw on the notes that it clearly said ‘Depression and anxiety’ under the mental health section and yet you disregarded that.

You didn’t be even take the time to explain what my body would go through. Should I be in this much pain? Should I be bleeding this heavily? How long will this last? How would I know when it’s complete? This isn’t normal to me.

You rang me and told me my levels were going down slowly but you didn’t know why and that I would then have to come back again in a week. Did you not understand that I never wanted to step foot into a place where I had received such bad news? I am dreading this appointment.

My body is already battered and bruised. I’ve spent all day crying because of the physical pain that I am feeling. I am reminded every day by the blood leaving my body that my baby has died. My already rocked mental well-being is being tested. I am in so much mental pain that I want to scream and break things. I question every day ‘What is the point?’ and it seems like you want to extend my agony.

Rationally, I know you just need to check that my body is dealing with this in the appropriate way and I know that this is necessary to ensure I can have another pregnancy. Emotionally, I am angry. If I had been treated as a human, rather than a statistic maybe I would be feeling different.

I don’t hate the NHS. I know how exceptionally hard everybody works. I fully support the NHS and it’s doctors, nurses and everybody that works there. You do a bloody hard job but I have to say I am disappointed by my treatment.

I was a mother. A very worried, frightened and emotional mother but you just saw me as a statistic.

Mrs S.

Letter to my squidge

Dear Squidge,

You were 5 weeks in development when you were taken from us. Daddy and I loved you so much already and we couldn’t wait to share our news with friends and family. You were our dream come true baby. We had longed for you for a year and a half and baby you were so loved.

On the 23rd March we took a pregnancy test. Daddy wanted to wait another week but mummy got her own way like usual. I took 3. One didn’t work properly. The second was faint and the 3rd was a clear blue and confirmed we were expecting you.

When I took the pregnancy test, I was overjoyed. Just seeing those lines made me so excited. I knew then that I needed to look after you. I cut back on everything. I joined Slimming world again to try and have a healthy pregnancy despite being overweight. Was it my weight baby that meant you could not stay? In the moment that I saw those lines, my whole world shifted. Truth is, I loved you before I even saw those lines but I loved you even more then. I would often stroke my stomach because you were there, nestled inside of me.

The midwife said that we were 8 weeks when we went for our appointment. We thought we only had to wait 4 weeks until we would see you and hear your heartbeat. I thought it would make everything seem real to daddy.

We brought you a highchair, my baby, and a changing unit and daddy had even started to decorate the nursery. Do you see how excited we were for you? You would have been our first child.

When I started bleeding on the 24th April, I can’t explain it. I just knew that you had gone. We had to wait until Friday the 27th April to have a scan and that was inconclusive. They asked if we were sure we were about 11 weeks but baby, we weren’t. They said my first bleed was a withdrawal bleed from my pill and you looked to be about 5 weeks. They said that you were either 5 weeks and growing or had stopped developing at 5 weeks. Daddy prayed for the former but I knew it was the latter. I could just feel it.

I still had a little bit of hope. I prayed so hard baby. Could you feel it? Could you hear me?

Then after a second blood test on Sunday 29th April, it was confirmed by my hormone levels going down, you had gone. In 5 weeks, I had experienced one of the best days of my life and I had definitely, without a doubt, experienced the worst. You were everything to me. You were all of my hopes, dreams and wishes rolled into one.

It’s been four days since it was confirmed that you were no longer growing or developing, that I was miscarrying you. I don’t think it has fully sunk in yet that I won’t get to feel your small hands, hear your demanding cry, dress you, hear your heartbeat or even feel a small kick from inside of me. We didn’t even get to see you for the first time. It was as if you were a ghost and sometimes, I don’t even think you were real. We never even found out if you were a boy or girl.

I wanted you so badly my little squidge. I spoke to you every day for 5 weeks and although I will never get to hold you, I will carry you in my heart always. You were our baby.

I used to complain when you made me feel sick or when you made my breasts tender so that I couldn’t get comfortable at night. I complained about my limit of caffeine and not being able to eat seafood, but I will never take those things for granted again baby.

I hope you are safe and warm and loved wherever you are baby and that you are always watching over us. I hope that mummy and daddy can make you proud and that you will one day grant us with our rainbow baby but just know, even though you were only with us for a short time, you are never going to be replaced. You were the first one to bless us with the titles of mum and dad and you will always be our first.

I will tell your future siblings about you and although it is painful now, I will tell them how you taught me unconditional love but also grief.

My only consolation is that you never knew pain, cruelty or fear baby. All you ever knew was my heartbeat, my warmth and the unconditional love that mummy and daddy had for you.

If love could have made you stay, you would have lived forever.

I will write again soon my angel. Fly high baby.

Love always,

Mummy x

A year

I haven’t posted on here in over a year. I got busy and tired. I must say that the optimism that I held last year has no way followed me through to this year.

Shortly after my last post, my husband and me decided to move back to our home town, to move in with my in-laws so that we could save for a house. Things started to go down hill from here.

I was rejected from 4 jobs and told some cruel things like I was unemployable because I was no longer an NQT. The silver lining to this was that on my 5th job interview, I landed the job that I work in now. At first I hated it but now, I can honestly say that I think I prefer it to the job that I was in. I love the people and I love the environment.

But I didn’t know this at the time. In September hating the job, just started a spiral.

In January 2017, I knew that I wanted a baby, that I was ready to have a baby. I was desperate but my husband wanted our own house before we started trying and we were going to Mexico which carried the risk of contracting the Zika virus. We couldn’t risk it. We wanted a healthy baby and we were advised by the nurse that we were unable to conceive until 6 months after our trip. We went in August 2017. That meant February 2018.

Our baby making plans were put on hold until February 2018. I was devastated but I understood. Until my brother-in-law got a girl pregnant. It hurt. Why did they deserve a baby when we didn’t?

Moving in with my in-laws in July 2017 made it worse. I was around a baby all the time from September. In the October, I was diagnosed with depression. I continually felt as if I walked around in a perpetual cloud of grey bleakness. Nothing was worthwhile and people who I once had solid relationships with, I was pushing away. I just didn’t want to interact with anybody. I felt alone. I know that I was wrong. My husband was a continuous rock that never once faltered in affection, love or compassion. No matter how erratic I became, my husband stayed firm.

Another positive of that year was buying our house and moving in in December. I moved away from my in-laws and the baby and I was beginning to feel better.

January and February flew by.

In January, I came off the pill. February 4th saw my first period and by the 28th February, we were able to start trying for a baby with no risk of the zika virus.

March I found out I was pregnant. April I found out I had miscarried. 5 weeks my baby was with me and then suddenly my baby was gone. I don’t believe in God. I’m not religious but I am choosing to believe that my baby is somewhere watching over me. To some my baby won’t even count, after all squidge was only 5 weeks in development but they were my baby. I couldn’t wait to hold their hand, smell their skin, hear their cry. I had wanted my baby for over a year and it was taken away from me.

I know this post isn’t cheerful or optimistic but I want people to know who are suffering that they are not alone. You may not know me, you don’t know my name, you don’t know what I look like but I am here. I am here to listen to you, to hear your story and feel your pain. If you need to cry, I am here for that too because I know the importance of having people, of hearing their stories and I know how much it helped me to have someone to listen with an unbiased ear and hear their stories.

If you get anything from this post, it’s that I am suffering but I am still here. I am still trying. It’s that life can be cruel and right now, I am going through my storm but I am still holding out for my rainbow. In more ways than one.


Mrs S x


Teachers are human beings too.

When you become a teacher you know that you are going to have to deal with the misconceptions that Teachers aren’t human beings. That we are some sort of emotionless robot. Well, that’s the way that the children see us. You know that you are going to have to deal with the misguided view that we get ‘all of those holidays and you don’t deserve them.’ You know that you are going to have to deal with the name calling by the children when you’ve given them a bad report or you’ve told them off. You also know you are going to have to deal with the parents. Parents who talk to you like rubbish even though you are human.

This week, I’ve had to deal with all of that as well as two parents’ evenings and my first lesson observation of the year. Please let me highlight that I am seeing the good in this week. I did receive a ‘good’ in my lesson observation with ‘outstanding’ for marking! I also got my first half a stone award at Slimming World.

But this week has taken a toll. I’m exhausted; physically, mentally and emotionally.

This week I had a parent be exceptionally rude to me at parents’ evening because I mentioned that her child was not performing to his ability. That he lacked motivation. I just had to take it. In that instance, I became nothing more than mud on the bottom of her shoe. I became less than a human.

In doctors, hospitals, banks, anywhere where they offer a public service there’s always a sign that reads ‘If you do not respect our staff, you will be evicted from the premises and the service will be refused.’ Teachers do not have this kind of protection. If a parent speaks to us like rubbish or abuses us, we have to take it. I think it is so wrong.

On top of this, I had two students tell me that another student had said ‘At least you’re not as fat as Mrs S. She’s a fat b…..’ I won’t repeat the word, but you get the picture. As a teacher, I understand that I shouldn’t let this bother me but in my tired, emotional and stressed state and as a human being, how could I not let this bother me? When I got home, I cried. Rationally, I didn’t care. But again let me reiterate, I am exhausted. So in my oversensitive and emotional state, it hurt.

I’ve always had an issue about my weight. I joined Slimming World to get my weight under control. In that moment, I wanted to scream that I am trying so hard to lose the weight. At the same time, I wanted to go home and eat my body weight in chocolate but I didn’t.

When did it become okay for other people to say such horrible and cruel things to another human being? I was always taught that if I had nothing nice to say that I should keep my mouth shut and not say anything at all.

I teach my students that kindness doesn’t cost anything and can be in fact the most rewarding thing. I teach them that being nasty to another person does not make you big or clever, it makes you a coward. I teach them that everything they say has a consequence and all of the words they say can affect people. It can make people feel deeply wounded for years to come or kind words can lift their spirits and make them soar. As a teacher, it is my responsibility to teach this and address this attitude of ‘It was only a joke.’ If it hurts somebody else then no, it is not a joke.

Equally, I had to teach my year 10 class that hitting somebody back was not okay. Violence is never okay. ‘Well I was taught that if somebody hits you first, you hit them back.’ That still does not make violence okay.

I am just holding on to the four positives this week.

  1. It is half term on Friday.
  2. I received a ‘good with outstanding for marking’ in my observation.
  3. It is date-night tomorrow.
  4. I got my first half a stone award at Slimming World and I am going to be one of the social term.

Here’s to hoping for a better week next week.

Kindness costs nothing.

Mrs S x


Journey of a lifetime

Yesterday at 7:15, I anxiously pulled on my boots and made my way to the car for a journey of a lifetime. I felt like a nervous child on their first day of school ever. Hundreds of questions kept twirling through my head like ‘What if they don’t like me?’, ‘What if I don’t like them?’, ‘What if they all stare at the piggy making its way through the door?’ and most importantly ‘What if I don’t like the consultant?’

You see I joined Slimming World yesterday and I couldn’t believe how anxious I was feeling. I am determined that I will lose the weight and make it to being a coveted target member but I needed a consultant that didn’t judge and definitely didn’t humiliate me. I also needed a non-judgmental group. I needed a group that would inspire me and keep me motivated.

As I walked (I say walked but I hid behind hubby) through the door, the consultant Abi was lovely. So smiley and happy and made us feel welcomed, along with some members from her group. We sat as part of the main group so I didn’t feel like I was being put on display because I was new. I didn’t feel like I was the new fish being stalked by the sharks while they assessed who was the best to eat.

Abi was inspiring as she took us through the new members talk and made it personal by talking about her own weight loss journey and I felt ready. I was geared up and ready to take on this journey of a lifetime.

I stepped on the scales and I was … mortified. I am a shorty standing at 5″2 and I was tipping the scales at 14stone and 1lb. I felt like a whale and I was determined then that I never wanted to see that weight again! I went to bed feeling deflated but strangely excited to wake up so that I could start eating right and start to shift some of my piggy weight.

I’ve been posting my Slimming World meals on my instagram (@swrainbowswithoutrain) today and it has wonderfully kept me on track. I’ve only had 1.5 syns so far and I already feel much better in myself knowing that I am making the right choices to help me lose the weight. I’ve had so much fruit and veg that I can feel my body cheering ‘THANK GOD FOR THAT WOMAN!’

The highlight of my day was definitely the butternut squash soup that was homemade from the Slimming world book ‘Best loved extra easy recipes’. It was delicious, it only took 21 minutes in the Morphy Richards soup maker and I got a whopping 5 large portions! It was, also, full of speed food and it was syn free.

Now all I need to do is work up the courage to talk the hound for a walk in the freezing cold and I will be making good progress towards my New Year goals. I just need to think about the results on the scales next week and that will get my bum out of the door.


Mrs S xx

Twas the night before school…

Twas the night before school and all through the house, the cries of the teacher could be heard by even the mouse. I looked from my covers at my husband with despair and asked him again if I really must go back there. To which he replies ‘I’m sorry sweetheart, but you must. You’re the teacher and you’re needed, you must really get up!’

In all seriousness, I have to go back to school tomorrow. It is a teacher training day but I already feel tired knowing exactly how busy this next half term is going to be. The dark days don’t help either. Correct me if I’m wrong but I feel like all teachers feel the same. Parents are jumping for joy that their children are going back to school in a couple of days but the teachers are sighing and dreading what is to come.

I feel awful that I haven’t touched a single piece of marking or planning at all during this holiday which isn’t the norm for me! But I needed the time to be with my family and to spend the holiday with my new husband. We are always so busy that we often forget that seeing each other is a necessity and I do really need to find a good work-life balance.

I think Slimming world will help me to do that. I’m always so tired and it doesn’t help that I’m eating rubbish and barely exercising! I’m severely overweight and the doctor told me the last time I went that I am bordering on obese! An incredibly scary thought. Bring on Wednesday when I will be walking through the doors of my Slimming world group to join a, hopefully, very welcoming bunch of people who won’t judged. 

Don’t get me wrong, I love my job but it is one of those jobs where you simultaneously love it and hate it. The marking = hate. Seeing a child get something that they didn’t understand before = love.  The darker days really don’t help. I tend to go to work in the dark and leave work in the dark.

I hate the stigma attached with teaching. The idea that we get all of these holidays and barely do anything but we do so much work behind the scenes. People don’t see the marking, planning, preparation and behaviour management. The nights that I come home at 6, make dinner, do some more marking, then go to bed: having barely said a word to my partner.

Some people will go ‘Well, you signed up for this job and you knew what was coming.’ You’re right I did which is why I deserve my holidays because I work so damn hard during the term-times. I reap so much reward and satisfaction from teaching that in the long run it seems so worth while.

I know deep down that I love going to school because I often have a child come to me in an excited blur to tell me about their holiday. Or when a child writes a fabulous description or poem and I’m the one they want to tell. There’s so much joy to garner from a child understanding something that before I was simply staring into a blank face.

I just need to keep telling myself that I can do this, even on those days where I feel like I have been hit by a freight train going at 100mph.

My next post will be on Thursday after I have joined Slimming world. EEEEEKKKK, very exciting but nerve-wracking!

See you on the other side,

Mrs S x

Hello 2017!

Every year hundreds of people say ‘New year, new me‘ as soon as the clock strikes midnight. It’s like a Cinderella story where the strike of midnight makes everything just melt away. I tend to roll my eyes at those type of people because a new year cannot make that much of a difference.

This year I’ve started to see things a little differently. Now don’t roll your eyes or exit this blog post just yet. Just bare with me.

At 12:01am on the 1st January 2016, I was going by a different name to what I am now. I was engaged to be married to my best friend on the 10th December 2016 and I just couldn’t wait. We had been planning the wedding for 3 years and 3 years ago, it seemed so far away. But boy, did it come round fast. The day came and went in a whirlwind of laughter, tears, excitement, love and nerves. Then my name changed. People were already calling me Mrs Smith. In my head, I was still a Miss.

I know what some of you are probably thinking ‘A change in last name doesn’t make you a new person.’ After all as Shakespeare said: ‘What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’

Notice how I said earlier, a little. My new last name definitely doesn’t make me a new person but I am now a wife (which still sounds weird and I can’t get used to it!). I am one half of an incredibly strong unit. I am one half of a bond that has survived a lot of things that were sent to break us. I have gained a new label on top of teacher, daughter, sister, friend. A label that, actually, I am proud of because it shows how far my partner and myself have grown not only as individuals but also as a family.

In essence, I have gained another element to my being. A NEW part of me. One that I want to continue to build along side my husband and to nurture and keep the spark alive.

So this year, I have decide that I am going to make some New Year’s resolutions. You might think this is a little off topic or has nothing to do with what I was just talking about but I want to lead a healthier life so I can have a long and successful one with my husband and for our future family.

  1. We are joining a Slimming World group on Wednesday at 7:30pm. I am determined to lose weight for our dream honeymoon to Mexico in August. My goal weight is 10 stone, so I have 4 stone to lose. I’m hoping that I can get off at least 2 and a half/3 stone for the honeymoon, if not more.
  2. I am going to begin to exercise, building in simple, meaningful tasks first like walking the dog. Starting small and then working my way up to running.
  3. I definitely need to organise myself more which is why I’ve brought myself a calendar so I can see when all of my appointments are and particularly when we can schedule in date night (I haven’t put this to my partner yet, so watch this space!)
  4. I enjoy writing so I have made a resolution that I will write on this blog at least once a week. I think this is perfectly do-able. I want a hobby and I want it to be something that I enjoy doing. It will also, hopefully, keep me on track on Slimming World.


As you can see, I’m not trying to completely re-invent myself. This is why I only said I was seeing a little differently earlier. I just want to lead a much healthier life style. I hope you stick with me as I go through all the twists and turns of my Slimming World journey and the first year of married life. I’ve heard it can be a little bumpy but you can’t get a rainbow without a little rain.

Mrs S x