Tag: buyingahome

Home Owner at 21 – Part One: The Savings

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First of all I want to state that this isn’t a brag, yes i’m proud of what myself and john have achieved and want to share it but I in no means mean to boast about it. I’m writing this because I said I would be transparent in everyday life and not just the life portrayed online, which is all unicorn lattes and designer dresses. I have split this into two blog posts because its quite a long one and I think can be categorised into two sections: one being, the whole savings and the lead up to being able to make an offer for a mortgage and the second being the process of actually buying the house and the (horrific) struggle of securing it.

Buying a house is not easy, without a helping hand it is near to impossible, but I am going to share my journey at becoming a home owner at the age of 21 and as morbid as it sounds, but imma be honest (because it would be something id consider if I read this, probs cause i’m a psycho)  but no, no one had to die for me to inherit the money to buy a house. (There was many near deaths on my part during this ordeal but I can safely say no one died in the process of buying this house).

There has been a lot of news in the press about the fact that millennials nowadays are most likely never going to afford to get on the property ladder, and whilst this is vaguely true if we are stereotyping the sociological aspects of a millennial, not all young adults can be grouped by this.

In society teenagers and young adults have a typecast of living the #studentlife and whilst some people do like to ride the journey of being the labelled student, binge drinking the £1 shots every night, living out of the overdraft and relying on the words ‘I’m a student’ to justify the fact that your future is still unknown and make yourself feel better, that right now you are just enjoying life and don’t particularly have a plan. There are a vast growing majority of others who, whatever their circumstance or reasoning are having to think about supporting themselves and their families in the long run – in the right now. (I’m not saying that students don’t acknowledge their post uni life, i’m stating that in society it is stereotyped in that way.)

I have a lot of friends who, like myself, got small jobs to support themselves in their teenage years and I also have friends who haven’t worked a day in their life and focused on their education. Neither is right or wrong.

When I was turning 16 my parents forced me (quite literally would’ve dragged me if they had to) to get a Saturday job, and despite my reluctant tries at getting out of this, I ended up working at a children’s farm, in their café. If only I realised what a great job that was then, because I would be so happy to have that job now, working 6 hours amongst animals making coffee and having no pressure of anything, but yknow I was 16 and wanted to get drunk on a Friday night without the repercussions of having to get up at 7am the next day.

Since then I have worked various jobs, part time and full time in different areas of life, I didn’t go to sixth form and instead got an apprenticeship (one in which I have absolutely no use for now in life, may I add) and having been earning the dollar since 16.

It was only from around 18 that I decided to start putting little bits away, sometimes left over money at the end of the month would go into a savings account I had set up or the odd coins from a shift at the pub would go into a smash only money bank, where it was not too easy to get back to it.

I am gonna be transparent with you, I was not an introvert or a “bore”, almost every day in my late teens I would be out drinking and partying, spending money on cigarettes and overly priced burger van food and well, I can openly say I was not someone who saved money enough to let it ruin having a good time.

You don’t need to give up having a social life in order to save money. It may slow down the process in getting to your end goal, but it isn’t something that you have to forfeit just to save up what you want/need.

When I was 18 I worked 3 consecutive jobs, whilst living with ME and Crohns and maintaining a social life and enabling myself to put away a few extra pennies. I could not do this now because at the ripe age of 22 I’m a full blown grandma and my body cant even handle a once a month sesh, let alone a working one (but the progression of my medical issues are to blame for this). Monday to Friday , 10-4 I did my apprenticeship, then on Wednesdays and Fridays I would work 7 – close (note how from 4 – the start of my second job I would be in the pub because I always thought being a little merry to work made me work better, yes, I was an idiot) at my local bar. On Saturday nights and Sunday daytimes I would work for an events company, doing waitressing, wedding set ups, conferences and bar work. These were all in the same area in which I made all my friends and also did my socialising, so I was surrounded by the people I wanted to be with and earning money at the same time. However, in the long run I would not recommend doing this, the phrase ‘don’t shit where you eat’, comes to mind and this played a huge part in my undoing later in life (yes, its as dramatic as it sounds, haha).

I didn’t have a lot of outgoings, I was living with my parents and would pay them a small fee of £100 a month in rent, I had my phone bill of around £40 a month, my travel pass which was also £40 a month and then any non essentials (like a takeaway pizza or an unneeded pair of new pjs) I would pay for myself. My mom and dad still supplied me with the essentials that were household items, i.e, shampoo and conditioner, food that would be for a family meal and would treat me often to a new piece of clothing so I wouldn’t have to fork out for myself, so I lived a cushy life really. Because I was only earning around £500 a month in total it meant I had a decent amount left over every month after paying out what I needed to. I wouldn’t hold back on my spending, if I wanted to treat myself to a new top or the latest make up palette, I would do, however ive never really had majorly expensive tastes. Primark has and will always be my best friend but I can be persuaded by a Michael kors bag or god forbid I see something (EVERYTHING) in Oliver Bonas. Instead any (if any) money I had on my next pay day left over from the previous pay day I would then transfer that into my savings.

E.G:

If I received a £500 paycheck on the 6th of the month, on the 6th of the following month anything left from that original £500 (could be anything from £1 – £200, realistically) would go into another account and I would start fresh at £500 again. So the 6th of every month I had £500 in my account, no more, even if I hadn’t spent all of my previous £500. (Hopefully that makes sense)

*Because I worked separate jobs, pay days would vary but I would stick to one day in the month to round up and transfer any leftovers.

Since then, I have continued to live by the same rule, even now when I don’t have a permanent full time job I try to put away little bits that are leftover each time a new payment comes in. But instead of it being one day a month it is on a job by job basis now.

This is a slow building process but it allows that extra emergency money when you need it, whether it was to save up for a holiday or for a piece of furniture, that is the method I use in order to save up for those luxuries.

Now back to the less technical part after I’ve bored you all with finances…

I had always had this emergency money that would build up, be emptied and build up again and in January 2015 I left home to move in with my boyfriend John. John is older than myself (by a fair bit) and he already had an established career, he earnt over quadruple what I was earning (approx) and had the knowledge and wisdom that came with living life. He was renting a small two bedroom, two up, two down house in kings heath and I moved in with him there. He continued to pay the full rent but I would then pay other bills, the council tax, food shopping, and although our earnings were nowhere near equal we both looked after each other, I would pay what I could, where I could. John has never expected me to pay for something I cannot afford, he has never made me feel pressured because he earns a high wage and I cannot always maintain the same substantial amount every month to contribute but we work together and live comfortably and equally.

We had been living in this two bed house for around 6 months when things were becoming obviously a ‘waste of money,’ We could not refurbish or redecorate the house and little things were just pretty poor. The bathroom leaked and flooded everytime you had a shower, the floor was coming up and the kitchen units were not grouted or sealed in place correctly, meaning the walls were crumbling and the units were becoming mouldy. Don’t even get me started on the garden…

The cost of living in this house was extortionate, when you leave home for the first time, you know there are bills to pay that no one ever mentions or your parents don’t ever tell you they cover but you never fully realise until each day a new bill arrives. Its not just a cost of surviving, (rent, food, essentials, luxuries) its costs for things you don’t even realise you need (a tv licence, the electric bill, the wifi, the water, insurance.) Things I’d never even considered, I never even knew you had to pay for a tv licence, and the wifi I thought was paid by the magical broadband fairy. I thought water came from taps for free and I could turn on and off the lights or the heating as I pleased so when dad always followed us around switching everything back off I thought he was a mad man. But they cost money, sometimes A LOT of money.

All in all living in the 2 bed house was costing us over £1400 a month and what did we actually have? We had a nettle jungle and four plain white pebble dashed walls that we couldn’t touch. We didn’t own anything, we were paying that amount to simply live in someone else’s house and pay for the upkeep of their property. We also had some creepy neighbours who were controlled by their dog and didn’t speak to each other (but that’s a whole other story).

After a lot of conversations over too many ciders we came to the conclusion that we really needed to start saving up more a month and think about getting our own place, so in the long run our money was being put into something we could actually own. An investment. However how could we possibly save up enough money to put down a deposit on a house whilst still forking out enough to live in the meantime?

This is where our family have been incredible. And without them, it wouldn’t have been possible. We approached our families and suggested moving back home, we would cover our own expenses, give them some rent a month and live in their house with them until we could save up enough to move out again.

They crazily accepted, mom because she secretly wanted me back home (and couldn’t cook so was happy to have me back to cook her food for her, sorry mom but its true) and dad I don’t think really had a choice after mom had decided. So Monday to Friday me and john lived in my parents conservatory, which sounds lovely, but it was hard work. No nighttime, no silence, no privacy, we were sleeping in the middle of a glass room like animals on show at the circus. The adjustment to having to follow someone else’s rules again was frustrating, for myself and for my parents. I’d gotten used to buying and eating whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted and now I was like a child again being told ‘don’t stay up too late you’ll be tired in the morning’ the standard parental lectures that ill soon be instilling on my child. On the weekends we would stop at John’s parents to give mine a bit of privacy and time to themselves.

We were now able to save up a larger amount each month and had decided that £1k a month minimum be put aside into savings to go towards buying a house. This theoretically was like continuing to pay our lifestyle back in kings heath, but instead of the money going into a private landlords pocket it was going into our own savings account.

We lived with this arrangement for 9 whole months, and that wasn’t the difficult part. The hard part of securing a mortgage, putting down the deposit and actually purchasing a house was the excruciating part.

 

End of Part one.

Make sure you are following the blog to be notified when part two is published and find out the struggle of actually buying a house as a young first time buyer.

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‘Not Social Media Perfect’

I’ve been trying to start a post for about a week now but I’m so easily distracted by the stupidest things I’ve somehow found hours past and yet no post written. I didn’t want ‘blogging’ to be a chore but as my Instagram and blog have progressed, it has become more of a business/money opportunity (which I am grateful for don’t get me wrong) and thus the hobby has turned into more of a job and well, we all know how shit I am at actually sticking at jobs…

However, 2017 offered me the amazing opportunity to turn my Instagram and blog into a small business and with that I have learned just how difficult it is to live in this ‘blogosphere, perfect lifestyle.’ I am pleased to have developed into the place I am now and hope I can continue to do what I enjoy doing, but I have to acknowledge and take my hat off to every other ‘blogger’ out there. Keeping up the ‘perfect social media life’ is more of a job than you expect it to be. You think it all sunshine and happiness, waking up to the perfect latte with an aesthetically pleasing pattern on the top and a bunch of flowers to place beside for a ‘just woke up’ Instagram shot. Followed by a brand-new delivery of clothing to wear for your ‘ootd’ and then a trip around the town snapping various locations and overpriced meals before you settle back down in some fluffy bed socks to post all about your amazing day on your brand new apple mac.  

Well in reality, it’s winter in England, and you know what that means? It means a disturbing lack of natural light followed by rain, rain, horrific wind and more rain. Any chance of a vibrant picture is a lot harder to recreate when you’re an amateur and mother nature doesn’t want you to go outside. As for the coffee, if I want it, I gotta make it myself so any attempt at a delicate latte art ends up looking like a mushed up version of luna’s turds, not to mention coffee gives me the shits anyway. And receiving promo products everyday? Nope, if you want something you gotta wait for days until you’re lucky enough to be noticed and then you have to spend a further week negotiating with them how you deserve more than a 10ml tester in return for a whole advertising package. The perfect social media life doesn’t exist, I for one wouldn’t class myself as a serious blogger, i don’t own an expensive DSLR, nor do I go location searching in a party outfit to get a good fashion shot and then spend another 5 hours editing it on photoshop because I cant deal with the bags under my eyes. But a lot of your favourite bloggers do. Turning a blog or an Instagram into a business is hard work, the whole con of making money on social media is the concept of illusion. Trying to make your life look amazing is the hardest job of all because nobody is perfect. I for one, am one of the laziest people I know, it is my biggest downfall and do you know how hard it is to complete a job when you’re lazy af? No, but seriously, if you like someone’s Instagram, or their blog post, whether they are a high flying social media star or they post every month as part of a hobby, let them know you like it, let them know you support their work because it is just like any other job, it takes hard work and a lot of effort to achieve the final ‘product’ that you see.

This all sounds like im complaining about it, which I’m not trying to do because I love where I am right now. I love that I am able to pick and chose my work and still have time to binge watch Netflix or that I can work as hard or as little as I like in-between napping like a god. But the first part of wanting to be a ‘blogger’ is stepping back and accepting that it is all an illusion, it is all fake and at the end of the day it is just work and work most commonly turns boring in the end.

So with that said, I intend to start a whole new series, thanks to a fellow blogger, Maddie, who writes and owns Mind A Moment Blog, she encouraged me when I was feeling like I didn’t have much more to give because my life isn’t social media perfect. This series is going to be ‘Not Social Media Perfect’ because I make good content when i’m not massively faking it, when I’m being my lazy self and living a great but ridiculously normal lifestyle. Maddie reminded me to focus on the things I have actually achieved at 22 and how I should be proud to share them with you, not the perfect make up deals or the incredibly fake advertisements which you mainly see on my Instagram because that is my job. Is anybody actually their job? Your job is only one persona and in this new series ‘Not Social Media Perfect’ I will be sharing (when I want to – not forcing anything) tips for real life, share my stories of my boring normalities and take you on a (probably dull) journey from Chloe Dawson, teenager, who started social media in her box room at her parents, to Chloe Dawson, adult, who now earns money on social media, has a mortgage and is starting a family but in the most unglamorous truthful way it is, in its entirety.

We Bought A House

So, by the title of this it’s pretty obvious what this little update is going to be about; moving out. It’s been 9 months…not that I’ve been counting every treacherous day being in a conservatory or anything…but we are finally at the day we are leaving what can only be described as what life would be like living in the blitz. I don’t mean that mom and dad are Nazi’s (just to clarify – debateable to Alex probably) but one minute you’re trying to sleep with the sun blazing through your eyelids in a sauna to thunderous bangs of rain on the top of a conservatory roof, wind blowing all the trees onto the windows and a blinding car light every few seconds waking you up like someone’s just shone an interrogation torch into your corneas. Needless to say, I cannot wait for a solid brick wall and a real roof.

I’d be lying if I said I won’t miss being back at home I mean I actually have to make my own cups of tea now, but it’s going to be quite lonely not being woken up at 4am as Alex comes back from some Chav bar, slamming all the doors and complaining about her lack of money despite the fact she has about £300 on her eyelids. I won’t be able to come home to find the front door wide open and my parents passed out on the floor or watch as dad gets so drunk he thinks it’s funny to start setting off paint grenades in the garden or forcing me to sniff chilli until I cry. I won’t have the power of mom to rule the tv for me every time I want to watch EastEnders or go on secret shopping trips where we end up pretending to be sophisticated ladies of leisure drinking prosecco in the middle of the day with john and dad’s bank cards. Then Margo, (who obviously I’ll miss the most) I won’t get to cuddle up to because homeLuna’s the only dog to ever hate affection or have her wipe her bloody bits over my sheets when I’ve just changed them or hump every object I own. I will miss home but knowing me I’ll be back haunting them all every weekend.

First of all, I’ve never known hell like buying a house. It has taken almost 5 months and a shit ton of money to get to the day we can finally move all the crap we (John) have hoarded. We found the house after finding what we thought was the perfect 2 bed home on a quiet road just on the Boldmere/Erdington border but when making an offer of the asking price we got rejected a mortgage. I’ve decided that for the rest of my life I am looking after my credit score more than my own life because one payment of £65 on an old Nokia phone that john lost on my 19th birthday in a drunken gay bar, lost us that house. £65.00 almost 3 years ago. I cried for hours and hours and the struggle for saving enough money for a house the same price was practically impossible, especially when to get a mortgage now we needed 15% deposit rather than the standard 10%, but as a believer that things are meant to be sometimes, it meant we found our house now. When I was in a major strop thinking id be stuck at moms forever being forced to watch Judge Rinder, I looked at houses on the market along the Birmingham train line. A house came up 0.1miles from the train station for cheaper than any house we had been looking at here in Birmingham, it just meant travelling around 10 more minutes to Birmingham centre than we were already doing from Sutton. We travelled to Burton upon Trent kind of defeated, thinking it would be pointless but nonetheless it was an easy way for john to get out of work early. But on the train we started into the countryside and I was just in awe. We looked around the house and it was huge in comparison to what we had been looking at for a higher price, 3 beds and a bathroom as big as the master bedroom, two reception rooms, a hallway, a modern(ish) kitchen, a utility and a large garden, we just fell in love. It didn’t matter that we were 20 miles away from home because the house just felt perfect. We took a whim after talking to our advisor and solicitor and offered under the asking price on the grounds the garden had no grass and there was no parking, and they accepted. I thought now y’know you sign the contract, you hand over the deposit, you get the keys, but no. It has taken so many weeks, so many signatures, searches, surveys, declarations, everything (none of which are free mind) until we have finally got the keys. It has been soul destroying, I didn’t even realise that a mining search was a thing or that you can’t be a homeowner without taking out life insurance? (Not that I’m complaining I mean I’ve watched enough crime documentaries to be able to kill john off now for a healthy profit) but honestly, I’ve never been so drained of words I have no idea the meaning of or money for someone just nodding a head in my life.

salesignThe town we are moving to is small, known as the national forest and on the river Trent, the house is in the town centre next to the church and a farmers’ market every Sunday, 5 minutes from the river Trent and more importantly a giant shopping centre. I’m so happy with the area, not knowing much about it before we took a chance and made an offer but it has definitely paid off. Jaiden loves it and I’ve already taken him to the college there, trying to convince him that it’s the best college in the world and he must attend as a matter of life or death. The house is next door to a café which sells cream teas so I know what I’ll be doing in the daytime and then a traditional old man pub (Like the good old anchor) at the end of the road which no doubt ill spend half my time looking for john in when he hasn’t returned home from work. 

I know a lot of you that follow me are first time buyers also and are into interior design so I plan on doing a post about the house once we have moved in to show you all, but right now there is half ripped up floor and wallpaper, (I’m too impatient to wait till we are actually in to get shit done) boxes everywhere and just junk from like the 1980’s john has decided he must keep.

I never know how to end posts so I’m just gonna put a disclaimer now that most of them are gonna just end abruptly to avoid me sitting here pondering over how to end it.

xo

Weekly Ramble #1

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Although i have no idea how this blog post is going to turn out i’m just going to write and see what words follow, there is no purpose to this whatsoever it’s just been so long since i had written a post i felt like if i didn’t it’s one more thing i’ve been too lazy to do. Besides, i’ve got john’s mac and it makes me feel much more sophisticated and fit the persona of a ‘writer’ when i get to use it.

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Nothing much has changed in the past few weeks, still house hunting and although we’ve found one that’s perfect we are having issues with the legal side of things and so i think we’re going to have to let that one go. Why is buying a house so complicated and img_20170122_095829_683expensive? Especially when we find one that’s just right and some other dickhead turns up with more money and decides to steal it, like bitch i’d already planned my colour scheme for the bedroom. So besides failing at buying a house and being too poor to afford to go out i’m sat with the dogs with ear plugs in like an old woman as the rain falls (EXTREMELY LOUD) onto the conservatory roof – which is my bedroom – wishing i’d just stayed in kings heath. But it’s not all bad because although i enjoy my own company i like the fact that i img_20170128_123234_406don’t have to sit on my own everyday and when my sister is off i have an excuse to watch shit tv shows i’m too proud to admit i secretly like, so when john comes home and thinks wtf i can blame my poor tv choices on her and it’s easily plausible. As a 21 yr old who’s planning on buying a home and having a kid i can’t be publicly seen watching ‘Victorious’ and singing along to the songs, declaring my love for Ariana Grande.

img_20170127_134523_692However, on another note, if Luna wasn’t bad enough when she was in season, constantly humping everything and costing us hundreds of pounds, i am now left to practically babysit the other one, margo, as she wipes her giant bloody bits all over my bedcovers. Not gonna lie it’s bigger than her head, imagine a baboons arse been dragged over your pillow and brand new slippers? Yeah that’s what i’m dealing with because my bedroom is downstairs and mom hasn’t taught her boundaries (unlike my perfect luna of course…ha..ha…ha.. Shes staring at me demonically now i feel like one of those people in horror films where there is a demon inside the dog 20170128_132119that controls their every move when people aren’t looking – if you haven’t watched those films seriously watch them they are shitily great).

On the pregnancy front, i genuinely have no idea, i’m still waiting for my body to return to normal but i don’t think it even knows what’s normal itself now. I had my follow up appointment with a gynaecologist as the midwives were querying a bicornuate uterus and septum which would basically be the reason for my two miscarriages. But the scan showed no septum and only a slight bicornuate womb meaning, i have a heart shaped womb instead of a completely rounded one, which could cause some difficulty when the placenta attaches itself but it wouldn’t be the main reason img_20170120_095830_364why i cannot seem to get to 12 weeks. I have an appointment at a recurrent miscarriage clinic which will hopefully enlighten us as to possible reasons although i’m pretty sure i’m going to hear “nobody knows why this happens but it’s fairly common and most people have miscarriages without even realising,”  i practically hear that sentence in my dreams, so many people have said it to me. My GP does seem to think that it is linked to my crohns and the immunosuppressants i am on as a result of 20170121191533the crohns though, so we have a long way to go and i think my dream of actually being able to hold my baby before christmas 2017 is slowly becoming less realistic, all i keep telling myself is that when it finally happens and i get to see and hold my baby for the first time i’ll know that this hardship will all be worth it.

It’s now half 2 in the afternoon and i’m seriously considering taking a nap, i cannot even hear the program i’m trying to watch over the rain and Luna keeps trying to eat my gingerbread house i’m pretty confident is stale now, so imma go. Sorry if i bored you to death throughout this post, it’s more like a ramble of thoughts as i sit contemplating why i am not rich and living the life of luxury or why i 20170115_170818can’t get a huge toned ass and slim body whilst just sleeping and eating mac n cheese (which i really wish you could do at the same time).

Have a good week everybody!

Chloe xxx

 

P.s I dunno what i’m gonna title this post and considering i have nothing interesting going on atm my following posts are probably going to be just a stream of consciousness like this one so i may aswell be pretentious about it and call it a ‘series’ so it sounds purposeful, so here we are the first installment of the ‘Weekly Ramble’.

Also the pictures have no correlation to the text they are just a bunch of photos from this week. You can find more here.

To read my last blog post click here.

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Goodbye 2016, Goodbye Baby Bathgate’s

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It has taken me far too long to write a blog post and although i’m already a week late in the ‘New Year’ posts i’ve decided to combine the most important event that has happened in 2016 with my new year aspirations.

I know as soon as January hits all the ‘New Year New Me’ posts come along but this isn’t going to be about me changing anything or having New year’s resolutions. Yes this year i have put on weight and have gone from a size 6 midget to a slightly more ‘beefy’ let’s say, midget and i obviously would prefer to be “skinny” again but i’m not going to go on a diet, i’m not going to do more exercise and i’m not really gonna give a shit. I’m also not going to make any self improvements, i’m not going to be more generous or start doing ‘more good deeds,’ i’m not going to work harder to find a better paying but health comprising job and I’M NOT GOING TO START GOING TO THE GYM.

With all that said, what i am going to be is a Mother. This might not happen for me in 2017 because life is cruel sometimes and 2016 has proved that. But those of you who are lucky enough to have my moaning ass on you when times get shit, will know that In July 2016 myself and my partner, John decided to start a family. This was a serious decision we made based on medical professionals’ opinions, because of my Crohns i am already at a loss on the fertility front and in the near future i am likely to have surgery which can very much change my life for the better, it will give me around 5 years to be able to achieve what it is i want, after that is unknown. Things could get worse for me and the doctor has advised that it is very much 50/50 as to whether i will be able to have children at all. (To those of you who have Crohns and are panicking reading this don’t worry there are other factors that have contributed to that diagnosis, everyone is different, it doesn’t mean it would be the same for you) I thought about what it was i wanted to achieve by then, i will be a qualified Forensic Psychologist by then (hopefully), I will be 26, i will have a house, I will probably have more dogs (lets be honest) and hopefully be able to get a well paying job without having to worry about my health. But after i have achieved a career and a life for my independent self i might not be able to have the one thing that i want the most, a family? So with that i decided, i won’t waste my time focussing on myself gaining a career or becoming financially independent, hell i can do that when i’m 50 if i wanted to. Now i know i am young and ‘i have my whole life ahead of me’ i should ‘go and explore the world’ and my ‘life will be ruined by having children too young’ well fuck you, my ambition is to have children and to be the best mother i can be, whatever age or maturity anyone else thinks i might be/should. If i can be half the mother my own mom is then i have achieved everything i need to, i would be damn proud of myself. Of course i am lucky enough to have a partner who can support me in every aspect, and he is my absolute rock in life, (sorry john i know that was a bit cringey).

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Anyway….in August i became pregnant, we were so amazed how it happened so quickly and i still remember the puzzled face john pulled when we couldn’t figure out what the result was as i sat with my pants round my ankles. Now they say pregnancy tests are easily readable, i can tell you they are not, there’s two lines but then there’s one line and half another and a faint one and oh my god i may aswell just buy my own do it yourself blood test kit for the amount of time it took. But four pregnancy tests later (after i had a right go at john for being a tight arse and getting the first one from bloody poundland) we were definitely pregnant. It quite literally was a miracle, with all the ups and the downs we faced throughout the year it finally gave us something solid to look forward to. I mean, having Luna was like having a toddler anyway except she looks you dead in the eyes as she shits on your laptop when you decide to give her cheap lidl dog food instead of Harringtons, spoilt bitch. We told close family and weren’t going to announce the pregnancy publicly until 12 weeks when we had passed the safe period. I had my VERY SOBER 21st Birthday (how depressing) and even though i couldn’t get pissed as my sister turned 18, couldn’t go on the Go-Karts in Devon, had to sit in the hot tub only when the bubbles were off and couldn’t eat F**king Shellfish at the most amazing seafood place, i didn’t mind because it would all be worth it. However, only 7 weeks in we lost them, i know it’s controversial as to who believes it is a baby at nearly 2 months, and people who may not have had a miscarriage might think that because it had only been 2 months it wasn’t a loss, well to me that unborn baby that was growing inside of me was now my life, my purpose, and losing them hurt more than i could ever realise. Sadly they had not grown past 4 weeks and took another month for my body to reject them, i had had bad pain following the bleeding and eventually over time we moved on.

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The Doctors had said that we could try again as soon as we wanted to and so not to go into my sex life i’ll just say the following month we fell pregnant again. By this time we had already packed up our house in Kings Heath and were ready to move into mom and dad’s in order to save for our own home. The news, despite the worry, was again overwhelmingly great, i had a purpose again. It might not make sense to you but as cringey and cliche as it sounds being pregnant really did give me purpose, i now have something to live for, to look after myself for. The days that are empty waiting for John to come home from work now had a meaning to them, it was to bring this baby into the world healthy and happy, give them everything they wanted and it was all my job to do that. Mornings of waking up and being ill, having overwhelming fatigue and sat in my favourite position (horizontal) watching come dine with me were over because i had something to do, to look forward to and to work hard for, my child. I don’t quite know how i can explain the feeling of having a

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Things that happened the Year you were conceived.

 

 

 

purpose and the joy of it, it just kinda sounds a bit stupid to say it aloud tbh. I guess it would be like an aspiring doctor to finally be given a chance at shadowing a professional or passing their important exam, the relief of knowing this is what you want to live for. But enough of the cringiness… we were alot more terrified with this pregnancy because of the previous and every single twinge or movement sent me into over-thinking paranoid mode. We had visited the hospital countless times to check everything was okay and early December we saw our baby’s heart beating! We cried with relief (wasn’t all picture perfect because i still had the bloody probe inside me with the midwife hanging onto it trying to keep it steady) and the nurse told us that once a heartbeat has been seen the risks of anything happening are extremely low. The following week we were back, and img_20170106_125015_193we saw our little bambino again, slightly bigger this time and their heart beating rapidly. We were now reassured that nothing was going to happen because we had seen the heartbeating fine more than once, the baby was the right size and we were coming up to the final few weeks of the first trimester, along with more reassurance from the midwives, so on Christmas eve we told our close family again. Another holiday stone cold f**king sober as everyone played speak out pissed, had the standard christmas family argument, ate a shit load of food and opened presents. Because i am quite a small person and i wear relatively tight clothing i was beginning to faintly show a little bump at 8 weeks, but the majority of people would’ve just presumed i’d eaten too many mince pies. “The bump” A.K.A John, had bought me a present, a parenthood listography book which is the most amazing book to keep a track of your prenatal and postnatal experiences and thoughts, it is both hilarious but sweet and on boxing day we filled (the bits that we could)

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The Top Two Names For Baby Bathgate

 

 

in. We went to Darlington a few days later where we took John’s nephews out to ‘Macca Pacca stones’ (im guessing imma have to brush up on who the hell Macca Pacca is sooner or later) and we proved just how hilariously irresponsible we are as parents as the eldest, 3, went straight through the ice and into the frozen cold lake, followed by john who fell in after him. On the plus side, they had fun and we have learnt just how tediously boring Paw patrol is and how to put a nappy on properly! So a success i’d say.

 

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Jaiden wanted to find out the probability of Baby Bathgate having Blue Eyes

But imma cut to the chase because this post is getting pretty long, sadly, on the day after we came home we went for another scan to check on Baby Bathgate who we had now decided on names (I know we were getting ahead of ourselves but i like to be very organised and quite honestly was just so excited that i just wished everything went quicker). We went in apprehensive but excited and left heartbroken and devastated, our baby’s heart had stopped beating. We were so close to being safe but it wasn’t close enough, like i’d said before ‘i thought lightning wasn’t supposed to strike the same place twice’ but it had, and this time it felt even worse.I can honestly say i have never worked hard for something, not truly. Whilst most people say “omg i tried so hard and it almost killed me to pass uni” i cannot say i have tried overly hard at something, i’ve done the best i have been able to but i’ve never had the passion to go further.

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What i want to achieve as a parent

 

 

But although i’m not religious, nor am i very philosophical or believe in fate and destiny, i think to myself now that the reason i havent pushed myself harder for anything is because i lacked the want to have it, untill now. I am working hard to become a mom, i am facing the worst hardships possible and it is almost breaking me but it is because it is what i want most in this world, to be a happy parent with a happy healthy family. This is me working hard for something i long, you don’t get what you want without the struggle or the downs that accompany it, so i will get over this loss, i will heal and move on and although i cannot do anything now or for a few months (currently undergoing medical tests) by the end of 2017 i WILL be an expectant mother if not already one.

Chloe xxx

*This is dedicated to both little Bambino’s, although you weren’t yet something, i will never forget and always love you.

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Moving Back Home

 

By the title you can guess what this post is about, through lack of anything interesting in my life happening at the moment (other than complaining about the price of cardboard boxes and amount of crap we actually have to pack up) i have resulted to just a standard update of what’s happening in my life right now.

First of all, me and john have not split up, he will be moving in also, which he is far more excited for than i am as he doesn’t know what is yet to come. I moved out officially (by which i mean actually bothered to take the furniture and not just a suitcase full and stop for weeks at a time) last christmas when my first early present was the keys to john’s house, so i was no longer staying there for ages and then coming back home when i wanted my clothes washed. Living on my own has been the best thing i’ve done, i have a much better relationship with my parents and i can actually use a washing machine now. Having my own independence and doing everything for myself has matured me so much and with John being a lot older than me anyway we make the perfect team in our little home. Although when i moved in john literally was living like a frat boy with a mattress on the floor with just his tv and fridge, he didn’t turn his nose up when cushions started to appear, along with candles and plants and everything else that i literally owned. A year on and we do have our own perfect little home, it’s great but it is too expensive.

Although we love the house we are in, even though the landlord has done a shit job (he poured concrete on top of tiled floor and used grout instead of sealant) we are now planning on buying our own house. We need a three bedroom home now, around 6 months ago we decided to start our own family, there are many factors that contributed to this decision so it wasn’t just an idea we had randomly, we planned it properly and 3 months ago i fell pregnant. I’m not going to go into this on this post as it is supposed to be just a light update and i don’t need to depress anyone on an already dark and moody monday, but unfortunately at 9 weeks we miscarried and this is still a sore subject so i will post about it at a later date. Anyway, we already live in a two bed house with myself, john and john’s son for three/four days of the week so eventually when we do have another child we will need to have a bigger house anyway, not to mention luna isn’t meant to be in this one so constantly trying to keep a giant howling pooping machine a secret is extremely difficult and i don’t recommend. We are planning on buying our own home now so that we can not only have a project to focus on but to actually save money in the long run, living in the house we are in we spend around £1500 a month for a terrace with a bathroom that leaks and a garden fit for a drift of pigs (i literally just googled what the term for a group of pigs is, you learn something new everyday). So renting is no longer an option, however, like every normal couple we also don’t have 20k lying around for a deposit so in order to save up a substantial amount a month we shall be moving back into my family home (lord have mercy on my soul) for the next 6 months. So picture this, there will be me and john, a pair who have severe stomach problems and fight over the toilet and regularly shit themselves, two crazy puppies who spend half their time humping eachother against the glass doors, a woman who literally enjoys the one show, a man who snorts chilli, gets drunk and offends almost every person he see’s (even though he is usually always right) and a teenager (i don’t need to go into details to explain what horrific thing that means, besides if i did she’d probably make my life hell after reading this) and then occasionally a 13 year old who is smarter than the majority of the household anyway. So yes, pray for me. Weekdays we will be at my parents and then weekends we will be at john’s parents and hopefully in 6 – 8 months we will have moved into our own home, i literally cannot wait.

So right now my life consists around arguments of what stuff we want to keep and what stuff to chuck (john is a massive hoarder) as well as trying to get rid of any evidence that luna existed in the house as pets weren’t allowed and despite the lack of kitchen floor, holes in the garden and chewed up skirting boards, we are really hoping to get our deposit back…

I apologise for this post being majorly boring but i felt i needed to post something as it’s been a while but literally have nothing to say right now, besides writing this has taken up at least part of this boring ass rainy day where i’ve done nothing but binge watch shit American crime documentaries about wives who kill their husbands (taking notes just in case john decides he wants to keep one more bloody piece of clothing he bought when he was like 20 and hasn’t worn for 17 years but can’t chuck away). Also, thank you to everyone who commented and messaged me about my last post, hearing about people who are going through the same thing and have said my post has helped them find more options genuinely means a lot and i can’t believe how many people actually read it, so thank you.

Chloe

xxx