Pffft.

He's pretty much gaining no weight. Actually, to be fair, he's gained 4oz. In 2 months. He still hasn't actually doubled his birth weight yet. Noah, on the other hand, had more than doubled his birthweight by the time he was approaching a year old.

I know they aren't all meant to be the same. But I'm quietly worrying more and more now. His clothes bought for him over 5 months ago still fit him exactly the same. EXACTLY. The. Same.

He's otherwise perfectly healthy, he eats a TON of food, he's cruising really well, has (unknowingly) stood up unaided a few times now...

He's just not growing. I'm trying desperately hard to NOT let my worries get ahead of me. But much like I did with Noah and his speech, I have that same niggling feeling something isn't as it should be. It doesn't make any kind of sense. Something doesn't feel right.

So do I be all proactive and hassle professionals to take a look at him and force the issue to find out there's actually nothing wrong?

Or do I sit back and listen to everyone saying "It's ok, stop worrying, he'll be fine, he'll just suddenly start growing"?

Do you know that for sure?

And I understood even more when my doubts about Isaac were also realised.

I had questioned Isaac's growth rates since he was about 4 months old. He's been dropping through his centiles and pretty much flat-lining; his growth and gain has been minimal. And I mentioned this to the HV, almost regularly. Pretty much every time I took him to clinic. And it was the same response as with Noah's speech. "No no, he's fine, it's just because of *insert excuse here*, there's nothing wrong."

How many times did I continue to push my thoughts on the professionals because I was convinced something was wrong? How many times did I say that I wasn't convinced everything was ok, that a gut feeling, an "instinct", if you will, was telling me something wasn't right? And yet, repeatedly they told me to stop worrying about it? There's nothing to worry about, it's all fine?

Every day, at some point, three words slip from my mind to my mouth, but I never say them aloud because I don't actually want to say them.

Told. You. So.

I hate that I was right. Yes I wanted to find out what was wrong, I still wanted to be proved wrong so as not to be plunged into this eternal nightmare. Because now, all my other unspoken fears play at the forefront of my mind. Again.

And given that I had done everything within my power to not come across as a neurotic mother, labelling her kids with every god forsaken condition under the sun, I now start to wonder if my fears will be confirmed later on.

That's not to say I want to label my children. I don't want anything to be wrong with them. Of course I damn well don't! I'd like two healthy, happy boys, who I can love and care for, and do everything and anything I can within my power to see to there wellbeing.

But I doubt myself now. All the time. I question my every damn thought. And it's starting to destroy me and my relationship with them. I find myself switching off to various things they do, because I feel like if I can't suggest something might be wrong, then I need to be impervious to it all.

I hate myself for that. I hate not knowing how to deal with it all. I hate my current methods for dealing with it. I seem to have no happy medium; I have to go full force or else bury my head in the sand. Hide away and try everything I can to not just ignore a problem but ignore him entirely until I feel ready to fight again.

I swear to god. I hope, so badly, that in trying to give my kids the very best I can, I don't end up taking it all away from them. Because they only deserve the best.

I don't know what to think. The whole deal and issues with Isaac and Noah - it's just too much right now. The implications (and believe me, I haven't even BEGUN to explore the implications just yet) behind the path to Noah's corrected speech, and Isaac's potential growth "problems"...fuck, I don't even know where to begin.

It turns out my brain has chosen not to absorb anything that is going on this week.

Including the fact that we had accepted an offer on our house (admittedly with the agent who is an arrogant fucker), and now we are a back on the market and down an agent. Because he chose to call me on the phone, accuse me of with-holding information (WTF? Dude I just wanna SELL MY DAMN HOUSE) and then hurl a barrage of abuse at me. Needless to say, we had just had enough. This wasn't the first time he had been obnoxious and rude down the phone; this time he chose to cross the line (so much so, the line became a dot to him). So buh-bye dude; take your offer, and your agreement, and shove it up your ass (if you can find room up there nest to your own head).

His office called me back trying to make amends, in the hope that we would still go through with their offer (which incidentally, was still less than our asking price *sigh*). Clearly he's bullied enough people to know he can get his way. Our dilemma is do we cut off a nose to spite the face, or accept that we may have to deal with him some more. I know, most of you are thinking just accept the offer and get the house sold already.

But we work on principle. And that is, we would sooner spend another 6 months in this house with our AWESOME agent and sell through them, than have anything more to do with tosser agents.

It seems silly, but trust me. I haven't even begun to scratch the surface of how unpleasant they've been (threatening to burn down our board? Wtf?), and we have well and truly reached limit with them.

Hmm.

I mentioned that my website is now up and running. This very idea is scaring the becheebus out of me; after the nightmare that became my music career, I feel like I'm about to launch myself into the same thing again. Here is my life, on the line. Here is me. Jay. Raw, for you to take a punch at. Here is my shit laid bare, and anyone and everyone may take a stab as they please.

I am 31 years old, and since the age of 5, music is pretty much all I've ever known. I feel like I'm venturing out on someone else's turf, and somehow question whether I belong here. I don't know what gives me the right to think I could have a go at this, and actually make something of it.

What I do know, is that I'm taking some fucking huge steps here. With my children, with my life, with me. And it's damn scary. Because it's all ventures in to the unknown. I'm fumbling in the dark. Is that why I'm not as phased as I should be?

Is it because, in the dark, I'm somehow dodging some major bullets out there?

I sure hope so.

*I wasn't going to call this post "Catch Up", but it turns out I already have posts in March 2008 and March 2009 by the same title. Maybe I'll start a new trend.