I'm Wilma. Girl. No dragon tattoo. I love theatre, fashion, music that makes me orgasm and taking pictures. I have split myself between three places (London-Stockholm-Tallinn), but my current hub is Tallinn. Wherever my circus goes, there's always a party. If the party does end, I watch cat videos and blog about it all. Check out my yearly summaries below to get to know me a bit better. Header: Mandel Photography

If you have any questions: hemafruu@gmail.com.

Friday, December 31, 2021

Wilma Circus in December 2021

Two years straight, 731 days, I have taken pictures of myself.
No deeper point to find, but I will continue.

I take my New Year's resolutions WAY too seriously.


1st of December
Hands up those who have been eating solid foods two months straight.
Next stop = getting drivers license and moving out:


2nd of December
Life's fantastic,
when the whole floor is covered with plastic:


3rd of December
In our hood we wear hoods:


4th of December
The kid is shopping at IKEA.com and adults are too tired to stop the junior interior designer:


5th of December
Introduction class to White Powder:


6th of December
Frozen pee and steaming poo:


7th of December
Leaning on the ironing board but not using it (my wrinkles don't lie):


8th of October
Selecting outfits for magical photoshoot.
99% of buttons and zippers not closing:


9th of December
Working nightshifts:


10th of December
Inflatable mattress + moving into the living room = Formula 1 final weekend:


11th of December
Running home from grandfather's birthday 
just to see the love story of Max and Lewis:


12th of December
"Do I have the drink or not?"
Honouring the world champion Max with some Oatly choco-milk:


13th of December
I'm very sorry mama,
but tonight I'm cleaning out my closet:


14th of December
The prison break:


15th of December
My mind is telling me YOGA,
but my body is telling me NO-duh:


16th of December
When the cleaning company is doing magic at home,
I walk to my Kopli Lady:


17th of December
New Christmas tree and awesome holiday spirit
delivered by the Müürivahe family:


18th of December


19th of December
OHBABY!
Spoiler alert: fittingly the baby found her way out on 31st of Dec:


20th of December
The babies, the brothers & the Wilma:


21st of December
The hetero Christmas holidays:


22nd of December
Wake up sleepyheads and get your dose of sun
(three minutes exactly and it was gone):


22nd of December continues
Bored and boardgames:


23rd of December
First Christmas party behind us and we were overwhelmingly tired:


24th of December
"No gifts, please"
"Yes, we hear you, no gifts"
*arrives with tonnes of gifts*


25th of December
Third Christmas party and my mind/body was already struggling:


26th of December
Not pregnant, just fat:


27th of December
Our Christmas wish is that Santa does not see out browser history: 


28th of December
The closest we will get to skiing trip in the Alps:


29th of December
"Forget about boobs, I saw the golden circles":


30th of December
Very sad. Very anxious. Lowest of the lows:


31st of December
The first one = smell testing the new deodorant
The second one = the disco yawn


Sunday, December 26, 2021

3/3 Post-partum tantrum



Now it's time for
 How I acclimated of being alive after all that was

I avoid talking about being a mum, because it is not what defines me. It might come as a shock, but my kid is not the most important part in my life, I am. 

By no means I was ready for my bizarre postpartum experience. 
Since until the very last minutes, even seconds, I was hesitant that I will actually see my living baby and experience being a mom. It's a IVF thing, that only fellow lab mice understand. 
Uncontrolled pregnancy, uncontrolled labor, accompanied by uncontrolled feelings afterwards.




The stigma of “how you should be feeling”

The breastfeeding horror (look chapter 2/3) was like gasoline for my already unmanageable chaos. Flopping my boob out, so that others could evaluate how good of a mom I was. The whole discourse of "Breastfeeding is best" (read with psychedelic sect voice) was horrible. Breastfeeding debacle spoiler alert: I'm still breastfeeding, but it's a miracle that I didn't quit.

Pebbles cried two months straight at first. Oh dear lord, how sweet it is to use the past tense in the previous sentence. 
Sleep derivation, mastitis with 40°C fewer. 
I felt like I wanted to throw her against the wall. I regretted having a baby. I called Fred to work hysterically crying. 
Guilty. Insecure.

Instead of healing from a huge trauma, I entered into a another one.




Unabashed visits to the therapist

My therapists saved me helped me to save myself. No need to go to detail, but she will always be one call or email away. 
After the healthcare system gave me loads of anecdotal information, I got guidance and opinions I needed. 

She asked me to continue my "One picture a day" blog posts, so that I could see that after a terrible day a better one appeared.




Waltzed through my home, fixed all my problems. 

Or actually no. But I did come out from a very dark hole. After two months of hell, we lucked out with Pebbles being a very very very chilled baby that sleeps a lot, 
cries  little and is just very cute, which has made my experience easier. 

Oh, I went back to work, when Pebbles was four months old. That helped to diminish the depression, since problems started when I was only a mom and nothing else.  
I truly dislike the narrative of maternity leave being a vacation or saviour of the reality. Being alone with the baby 8 hours straight is very overwhelming,
I feel burnt out at the end of the day, difficult to maintain patience. 




The routine. Taking myself back.

We are very strict with routine, 7PM Pebbles goes to sleep so that Wilma & Fred can have their time together. Talk. Cuddle. Be silent. Whatever is needed. 
Yes, I am very much in love. Yes, Fred is my Johannes to my Alma.

Now Fred takes Pebbles in the mornings and is home-officing as she is crawling around. He let's me sleep until his first Zoom call at 10AM, just when Pebbles takes his first nap. It is very important to me that I have never ever missed a shower since giving birth to Pebbles. Not making sacrifices has given me balance.

At first, I was pressuring myself to be a superhero that vacuums, cooks, works out and *insert housewife bullshit here*. It has helped my mental health that our house overall is clean, has always been that way. We don’t have shit lying around, because babies actually don’t need anything besides some loving (although the baby companies’ marketing department think differently). Also we hired help to clean the house every now and then.




Not giving any advice to others

Every journey is very personal.  No matter what choice you’re making, it’s not the right one in somebody else’s eyes. You can research so much stuff and not be any clearer about the topic. 
If you are not feeling happy, and are experiencing anxiety or losing control. If you are basically struggling, it’s completely understandable. There’s help around that.

Whatever you do, please keep your support system (if you have one) close. Kiss, hug and have sex (if you feel like it, after your vagina fell under a train) with you significant other. 
Your relationship comes before the baby, the latter will benefit from it.
*look at me ignoring all the single parents out there. also, I promised not to give advice, but I still did*

My body looks more or less like it did pre-pregnancy, there’s just a crooked C-section “smiley” scar on my belly. I do weigh more, like double digits more, but I let my body to take its time to heal. I don’t mind. I’m not heavily body focused. I do make more fat jokes than I should, but Fred holds me back there. I do feel insecure sometimes, because I cannot wear 100% of my wardrobe and some of you know how much I love my clothes.




My depression triggers

I do genuinely feel great. But so many people around me feel the urge to tell me "Just you wait!", "Soon they will walk, then it's hell". 
And. Then. I. Cannot. Breather. Anymore. Please stop.

Like celebrating wins is not acceptable. Good parent = questioning all the time if you are one. 
Just saying that I'm a fucking awesome mother. But furthermost, I'm one kick-ass Wilma Circus.



Disclaimer: this is not how I look every day (shocking, yes)

Photos: my personal fairy Getter Raiend

Story inspiration: Wilma Circus & the Uterus