Hello bloggers and followers, thanks for coming back to check on my challenge content. It’s very much appreciated! We’re onto Day 17 of the blogging challenge:
My Proudest Moment
I can’t really pinpoint my most proudest moment. There’s been quite a few times in my life that I felt I could burst with pride so I think I will share more than one, as there’s no harm in being overly proud!
1. The birth of my nephew
In early 2016, my sister announced the news that she was pregnant. We had spent years thinking she was infertile, or didn’t want babies, and it was a worrying time as she was going to have to come off her medication that stabilised her condition. But, she was very focused and driven, as she always has been, and the pregnancy went along with hardly any problems. She was overdue, and one particular afternoon, she noticed she hadn’t felt baby moving for a day or two so as a precaution she was taken to hospital. I worked at the hospital so I rushed straight over to be with her. Baby was fine, but they decided to give her a stretch and sweep (yuk and ouch) and I stayed with her for it – and she went home with the hope baby would come in the next couple of days.
At 6am the next morning, my phone rang and I knew immediately what it was. It was my mum – she’s 10cm dilated, baby is coming! – I jumped straight in a taxi and got there asap. Now, I’m not a parent, never had a baby so I had no idea how labour worked or what 10cm actually meant. I expected baby to come flying out, with a couple of pushes, and that I would arrive just as he’d arrived.
I entered to find her in the birthing pool; she had asked me to be there at the labour along with our mum and her partner. The midwives were really lovely and accommodating and we took it in turns to sit with my sister with the gas and air. She looked exhausted – it turned out, about 4 hours after the stretch and sweep, labour came on and she’d been in labour around 10 or 11 hours. Because of her disability, they had to keep checking her and asked her to step out of the pool to be examined on the bed. Which is exactly when baby decided he wanted to come out.
I found my spot at the top of the bed near her head, with my mum and her partner. We kept her motivated to keep pushing because she was saying she couldn’t do it anymore. She did so amazingly well. And then out came his head – I could not stop crying. I was actually weeping with joy, I had never felt emotion like it and when he came out absolutely perfect, my heart beamed. I was literally streaming with tears, I couldn’t see. I was so incredibly proud of my sister, and that she had asked me to be with her to witness this beautiful moment. The experience brought us so much closer together, and I will never ever forget that feeling ever in my life. I was overjoyed and he is a joy to watch grow.
2. My degree
My degree was 3 of the hardest years of my life – and it wasn’t the degree that was the hardest part.
Everything that could have happened or gone wrong happened in those 3 years, and they really did test my patience and my willpower to keep going. There was so much going on in the family, and at times, I thought I could never make it to the end. I was losing my focus at times, and couldn’t get my head down for some pieces of work. But, with the support of my partner, friends and my tutor – I made it. I had emailed my tutor nearly every week since submission – I must have driven him insane. But then, after probably the 7th email, when I was expecting the same ‘Not yet Fran’ – I got this:
I couldn’t believe it – after expecting my tribulations to make me fail, I came through with flying colours.
The best feeling for me was being able to join my friends in the fitting room for our graduation gowns, getting each other picture perfect and stepping into the room where our families were gathered. I was so proud to be wearing my hat and gown, as well as the same coloured sash as my friends – we had all achieved it together – and walking out on stage to collect my degree.
I will never forget that feeling of ‘I did it.’ My degree now proudly sits on the wall of our living room.
3. Ending my relationship – and sticking to it
I’ve talked a lot about my previous relationship in blog posts – it was such a huge and influential part of my life *not in a good way. But – the ending was so easy but at the same time so hard. Ending it was the right thing to do, I was ready to end it and it needed to end. I had reached the end of my tether, I had been pushed to the limit and was drained in every single sense of the word after 6 years of crap.
But, when I ended it, the emotional blackmail ensued. I knew all I had to do to put a stop to it was to say ‘Ok, I didn’t mean it – let’s start a-fresh’. But after saying that for so long, there was something inside of me that was saying ‘you can’t do this anymore. Stay strong.’ And I did. I stuck to what was right for me, for a change. Despite the calls at 6am saying he was outside my house, despite the weekend drives and talks of him hoping I’ll change my mind, despite the multiple problems he called me with in the hope I would sympathise and give him time, I remained strong. The day he moved out was like a mountain had been lifted right off my shoulders. I didn’t even cry throughout the whole experience – 6 years and I didn’t cry. That should have told me everything.
And I’ve stuck to it in the 6 years that have followed. I have nothing to do with him anymore – his attempts to control me and stay in my life did not work. He no longer had and will never have a hold over me ever again. I am free because I made it that way. And I am so proud of myself for getting out of there and building a much better and happier life for myself. With not even an ounce of him in it.