Of course I’ve changed…

I remember walking into Shanganagh, with my younger cousin. I had a little pregnant bump, flowers, a candle. If I remember correctly it was dark. I linked my arm in hers as we started to walk towards the grave, and she just said so simply “You’re never going to be the same again are you, you’re not going to be the same SinΓ©ad”. It was such a simple question, and as the years have passed I realised just how right she was. 

I have changed. Hearing what I’ve heard, seeing what I’ve seen, it changes you. Everything looks and feels different. I never had a care in the world before that day, or the weeks that followed, but now, I expect the unexpected. If the school phone, or when the tiny human was in the Creche, I take a breath, I expect bad news. I see things different now, hear things differently, feel things differently. I worry about things that’s had never once entered my mind before. The world is a very different place. If I lose myself in thoughts for too long, my mind starts to race, to panic, so I don’t. I never really knew what it felt like to really long for something. Have you ever felt it? The feeling that your chest is about to collapse? I long to feel “normal” again. To not have a care in the world. 


I’m harder on myself than I ever thought possible. I doubt myself. I worry about whether the things I’m doing are good enough, or whether I’m just doing “ok”. I worry about what people think, am I doing this the right way? Should I be doing “it” differently? I worry about losing the people I love and care about, and not just to death, just losing them out of my life. All the people who have got me to where I am today, how do I keep them here? 

I remember saying to my cousin, “I guess not, I guess I’m different now”. I could almost hear her heart break a little πŸ’” At 30 I should never have experience that. But I did. I look in the mirror and see the lines on my face. Worry/laughter? A definite mix of both. I like to call them experience lines now? Sometimes I don’t recognise myself. Who is this new person? 

I allowed myself to love again, and there is nothing more incredible than the feeling of flutters in my tummy. I am so lucky to have met another kind hearted man. One who makes me feel normal…  but they will always be apprehensive flutters….  just what if? 

So yes, I know I’ve changed, but deep down, deep, deep down, I know the old me is still in there somewhere, I’ve just had to embrace the changed, altered version. 

Don’t trust me… I’m not drinking!Β 

Don’t trust me – I’m not drinking! Lately I’ve been drinking less and less alcohol. It’s not due to wanting to lose weight, it’s not due to an illness, and no I’m not pregnant!!!!!! It’s down to a couple of things. 

No. 1: It doesn’t agree with me, like, it makes me sick. Like actually vomit. I could have 2 glasses of white wine or a few little glasses of prosecco or some vodka & 7up and I am guaranteed to vom at some stage through the night. 
No. 2: I’m 35 and I still get the spinnies. It is the worst feeling in the entire world. I can’t deal. 
No. 3: The following day, I feel so helpless. I feel suicidal. I wake up and instantly feel like I’m worthless, like I’m the worst mother in the world, like there is really no reason for me to exist at all. That no one wants me to actually be here. I spend the entire day like this. It is a complete waste of a day!! 
I guess I’m one of the luckier ones. I am able to enjoy my night without filling it with alcohol. I am able to enjoy the company of others without alcohol. I can dance all night (6000 steps on the fitbit!!) without alcohol. I am able to wake up the next morning and not suffer the fear that I have drunkenly said something I shouldn’t have to someone. In fact, not drinking is just easier. I can drive to and from wherever it is I’m going, which saves on ridiculous taxi fares (and gets me home safe!). More and more lately I’ve gone out and just not drank, but one thing totally baffles me. The attitude towards people who don’t drink. It’s like you’re half a person/you’re not really Irish, if you’re not drinking. It’s slightly annoying to be fair. “Are you pregnant?!” “Are you sick?!” “Why aren’t you drinking” “oooh I don’t trust a non drinker” “ah go on, have 1!” πŸ™„
No. Just no. I will not become the person who pretends I have a Bacardi & Coke in my hand because I don’t want to listen to the constant badgering of “ah leave your car here, come on, have a drink!!!”. I’m not going to give in and have that 1 drink and run the risk of being breathalysed and most likely be over the limit (let’s be honest, I’m a complete lightweight, 2 sips & im over the limit!). Why is it we have this silly idea that we can’t go out and enjoy ourselves without alcohol in our systems? Ive learned that I don’t need it. 

I can be just as smiley/happy/dancy without the vodka/prosecco/west coast coolers of the world. 
I’m not saying I’ll never drink again, I’m not saying that I won’t have a glass of Prosecco to celebrate… but I am saying that I don’t actually need to, and if it’s means I will wake up the following morning with a fresh head and life not being so difficult, then brilliant!!. I will be the one you can’t entirely trust, because I don’t really drink 😜

Out of the “loops”

It’s been a while since I blogged… 

I’m not really sure where to start with this one. Do I start way back when… in 2009, when I gave up my life in Ireland to go and live in London with the man I knew I was going to marry? Or do I start from when I moved back to Ireland in 2011?
To be honest it doesn’t really matter, because I chose to leave the country. Leave my friends and family behind, and embark on a lovely new life in the UK with my lovely (then) boyfriend. It was 15 months into our relationship, and 200% the right thing to do. Little did I know what would unfold in the 2 years that followed. But lately I’ve been thinking a lot about it. I try not to dwell, I become bitter and annoyed if I do, but I’ve been thinking of how much I feel like I’m on the outside. 

You see, I left all my friends here, and made new, amazing ones, in the UK. I was gone for 2 years, only returning for wedding planning and events. My Irish friends all continued on their own paths. I was no longer in the loop. Then I had to move back home, pregnant, and leave my UK friends behind, I was then no longer part of that loop either. So as a result, I really feel like I’m not part of any loop. It looks so sad to read, but it’s true. I gave all of that up when I met my husband, but little did I know the sheer volume of the heartache that he would leave behind. My Irish friends have all stayed within the same circle since I left. They all still socialise together. My UK friends the same. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have loads of individual friends, and they are all pretty incredible humans. I have 2 very best friends living in Ireland, and one in Turkey, all have their own families now, all children with their partners/husbands. Their own friends all have children around the same age. But my tiny human is years older. We are out of the loop. The tiny humans cousins are the closest things she has to siblings. They live in Belfast. At 35 I never thought I’d feel… well, just left behind. The boy moved here a year ago from the UK, and is also trying to build a new circle of friends. I can’t even help him there.

I wonder how many others feel the same. The ones who moved away, and moved back for whatever reason, and no longer have a “loop”. Maybe we can start our own? ☺️

I’m off for a run once The tiny one goes to bed… on my own 😜 


Huss x

This is how I do it

So many people ask me this… “How do you do it, being a widow?”. I guess at 30, married 7 months, with a 19 week old alien growing in my belly, the question would never have entered my head. I didn’t know any young widows. I had no experience of it or no book to read. It’s quite a hard thing to explain to be honest. I hate the word widow for starters. People just think of black clothes (never liked black), take to the bed for a year (erm, I had a baby to feed), look sad all the time, (well there’s conflicting feedback on this!) sit by your spouses grave and cry (ok fine I do that, but very very rarely now). I am the exact contradiction of what the traditional widow is.

But being a young widow (or old one) can be exhausting. Instantly you start to consider everyone around you. My biggest struggle is trying to consider everyone’s feelings, taking every possible outcome into consideration. What will people think? How will they treat me? What are they saying behind my back? His family, my family? How do I keep everyone happy? Is this or that the right thing to do?! Sadly, it’s caused the breakdown of new relationships. I focus on doing the right thing by everyone else so much that I neglect to enjoy what’s right in front of my eyes. The judgement is real. You get into another relationship & all you hear is “it’s too soon”, “she’s not ready”, “she mustn’t have loved her husband very much”. If that relationship breaks down, for whatever reason, all you get is “it was too soon”, “she wasn’t ready”, “she obviously loved her husband so much she can’t move on”. Why does anyone feel the need to comment on someone else’s life, or how they do things? I am fully capable of loving another human being with my whole heart. It may be the same feeling as I had before, it may not, but how is that different to any other relationship? I am the only one who knows (well maybe my counsellor too) if I am “ready”. I have learned in the last few weeks that it’s time I stopped caring so much, and start doing what I know is going to make me smile.
My next struggle, and it’s a massive one for me, is feeling like I can’t talk about my husband. If I bring him up people get all weird and awkward. If I write a blog about him it’s unfair on other people. I honestly don’t understand why. When he was breathing I talked about him all the time, now if I post a picture of him, it’s too upsetting for people?! (I do get that, but consider for a second having his mini me, living and breathing and following you around all day? A pic doesn’t seem so bad now does it?!) Well…. he was my husband. He is the Father of my little girl. I am literally incapable of pretending that he never existed, and it’s so tiring feeling like you can’t post a memory that once made you smile. People do it all the time on Facebook now, but I feel like I shouldn’t. It doesn’t mean I am dwelling, or not able to move on, it simply means he was a huge part of my life, as much as any possible husband will be in the future and I’d like to be able share a wonderful moment we had together without feeling conscious about it. Just like this one… 


So like I said, I have one, very delicious tiny human. She is the centre of my universe, and to be quite honest, my reason for doing everything I do. It was bloody hard at the beginning. Even being pregnant and not having him around towards the end when he should have been here rubbing my feet. Delivering her  without him was one of the worst experiences of my life, when it should have been exciting. I had never been a Mommy before, and had zero intention of ever having to raise a child alone. I was absolutely petrified, but I have a seriously sturdy support network around me, and with my Mother/Father/Siblings & incredible friends, we literally raised her together. She is almost 5 and has turned out to be quite the perfect tiny human so far. Yes she’s a diva, yes she screams at me when things don’t go her way (I swear she doesn’t get that from me πŸ€”) but overall I am so lucky that she is so placid, just like…. her Father! 

I have a new found dependance on people and have realised that asking people for help isn’t as shameful as I once believed. I depend on my brothers to do some of the man bits, I depend on my friends & cousins to hang out with me and ask me to do things so I don’t feel so incredibly lonely all the time and to continue to keep me sane and glued together, and to listen to my worries & moans. I depend on my sister to get to Dublin from Belfast so Lily can hang out with her 3 cousins, and to come on holidays with me every year, again so I don’t feel so alone. I depend on my Hockey girls, the ones who just accept me for who I am, and treat me no different to every other team mate, they make me feel “normal”!  


And I depend on my Mom. My incredible, wonderfully understanding, supportive Mom. She has let me shout, cry, laugh inappropriately… Without her, life would be a real struggle. All of these people together, make life bearable. 


So how do I do it? I just do. I take each day as it comes. I take pictures, lots and lots of pictures, so when I’m feeling sad I can look back on the days that made me smile! I am so lucky in so many ways. We (thanks Mom & Dad) have a roof over our heads and food in our mouths and I get to make amazing new memories with a very beautiful tiny person. No, life isn’t or will never be the same, it can’t be. Yes there are days when I literally feel a pain in my chest because of the new life I’ve had to embrace. I hate what happened to us, but overall, when I take a step back, and think of how much worse things could have been, I feel…. content. 

I’m still breathing and getting to enjoy (most of) my life, which is something a lot of people never get the chance to do πŸ’•

Huss X

ο»ΏLet them be little

I’ve been watching my tiny human a lot lately, and watching how scarily fast she is becoming less of a tiny human and more a little girl. I spent so much time when she was a baby, wishing she would reach her next milestone, wondering when it would be. When she was a baby, I wondered when she would hold her head up without me supporting it, when she would eat her first solids, when she would sit up for the first time unaided (13th of June 2012!). When she got sturdier, I couldn’t wait for her to crawl, to take her first steps. When she had mastered all of that, I couldn’t wait until she could talk.

She is now almost 5. FIVE! I realised recently, that I had “wished” most of her baby and toddlerhood away, waiting for the next milestone, hoping she would reach it quicker than the norm, instead of cherishing every single moment of it. We all do this. We all cannot wait for them to get bigger. But we need to slow down, and let them be little.

Children these days grow up so scarily fast. They have mobile phones, are on Facebook, are posting pictures on Instagram and have thousands of followers! I can now have proper conversations with the tiny one. She teaches me things every single day that I thought I already knew. No two days are the same, and the adventure becomes more incredible the older she gets. Now however, I have noticed, I am wishing for her to slow down. To stay as this beautiful, tiny, perfect little human being for as long as possible. I don’t want her to have to grow up and have to deal with ‘real’ life. I want her to stay as pure and innocent as she is today.

image-30-09-2016-at-22-14

I wonder sometimes when it flipped, from wishing her onto every next milestone, to wishing she would slow down. She is my only. She is my beautiful, tiny human. Before I know it, she will own a smartphone, and iPad, be a teenager. She is going to be getting dressed up to go to her first disco, then nightclub, then no doubt travelling, then possibly college/marriage/kids (in no particular order). She will someday move out and start her own adult life. (I should say maybe here, I had to move back in at 30….). These days I know will come so very fast, and will I will have to deal with them all, like a grown up πŸ™‚

I have now embraced how perfect she is, at this very moment in time. How her little brain is a sponge and wants to absorb every detail in her day. I have stopped wishing her little life away, hoping she reaches the next milestone quicker than the norm. Before my very eyes, some day, she will be a big grown up human, having to deal with real life, real fears, real tears, real heartache. She will be a grown up for long enough, so for now, I am just letting her be little, and enjoying each and every second!

Huss x

πŸ’– This is my family πŸ’–

So the dreaded conversation already took place in “Big School”. Who’s in your family?. I obviously wasn’t there (as much as I’d love to have been!!) but apparently there was lots of talk about how some children have Mom’s and Dad’s, some have just a Mom, some just a Dad, some have 2 Mom’s and 2 Dad’s etc… (Do not envy the teacher on this lesson at all!) apparently the tiny human sat quietly, not breathing a word. I was surprised, as normally she would pipe up “My Daddy’s in heaven!!” As if it’s some sort of achievement 😏 I’m guessing it’s the new surroundings, the new friends and not knowing the other children as much. I’ve always been very open about where Daddy is and as I result I think it’s helped her process it as she’s gotten older.

Then came the picture. Her first proper “This is my family” picture. 

It’s perfect. It’s so perfect it made me cry. Made my heart do a little flutter. Obviously I’d like it to be different, obviously it’s not exactly how I imagined it would be, but I am totally embracing life with my little family, and I am so proud of my tiny human for embracing it with me πŸ’•

A first time Mommy on my first day at big school.Β 


I look at the selfie I took in the playground just before she walked away from me on her wonderful new experience. I saw the heartache in my face, the uncertainty in hers, but mainly the beautiful ray of sunshine that shone down directly onto our heads… And I just wonder…. πŸ’• 

Thank you for all the messages, the well wishes, the texts & Facebook posts. It’s been a really tough one, and one that I have just let myself feel, instead of pretending I’m “ok“. My heart ached. For her, for me, but mainly for him. 

Be a game changer little 1 xx