Bringing down the Curtain

It finally happened.

A meltdown on par with the 'the great crash of 2007'.

With my own godsent mum here, I was able to hold it together for a week. I was able to sleep in the afternoons, and when I couldn't face another round of 'try to feed the baby' or 'baby seems tired, lets try to put her to bed", my mum was able to take over and happily at that.

I made it through for four whole days, and then, after I waved goodbye at the airport. Things fell apart at a great rate of knots.
By the time I got home, tears were prevalent. I had managed to stop myself from deliberately crashing the car in to the median barrier. I had managed to safely carry my daughter inside and gently put her on the mat rather than dashing her onto the ground in the driveway. I considered these a success.

Over the course of the next two hours I spiralled up and down so fast that I didn't know what had hit me. I decided to stay home and relax and stay calm, but Bean wasn't cooperating with that plan and so I put us in the car again and drove across town to our mothers matter support group. By the time I got there, tears were only one 'are you ok' away. There were a number of Phone-calls from a number of phones, to a number of different numbers in the C ward at Princess Margaret Hospital and half an hour later I was sitting in my counsellors office.

I was unsure how I'd managed to drive myself here and was trying to recall the last time I'd eaten. Bean was playing with some brightly coloured giant keys on the floor, and I was trying very hard to concentrate as Tracy (my counsellor/registrar) asked me what I needed right now. What did we need to make happen?

I looked up at her, dazed, a headache playing behind my eyes. "Sleep." Wasn't it obvious?
"If we can get you to sleep, will that be enough?"
I shook my head thinking over and over 'give me somewhere different to sleep, please put me in a hospital, I need time away from baby'. But I couldn't say it. The thought made me sick.

What kind of mother am I, who needs time away from her own child. What kind of mother begs to be put into a hospital so that they can sleep uninterrupted?

Suddenly there were two therapists in the room, they were talking about respite options, one involving in house help, the other involving inpatient stays with your baby, and respite houses without. The respite house sounded like heaven. But still, when they asked me which one did I think I needed, I couldn't bring myself to say it. I couldn't bring myself to admit that I, Mum, needed time away from my child. 

Finally, the therapists decided for me. I would go to respite for the night. Husband would have to come home early and take tomorrow off to look after the Bean. I was so relieved at the idea, and sickened by my own reaction at the same time.

Unfortunately, as luck would have it, there were no free beds in any respite houses or inpatient wards anywhere in christchurch. I would have to stay at home, or preferably, at a friends house. But I couldn't think of a single friend to ask. I have friends. But not a lot of friends with kids. Or friends with spare rooms. Or friends I wanted to ask.

So I went home. I don't remember anything about that drive except that I was driving rather slowly, because I was scared of doing something stupid. When I got home to my Husband, I instantly burst into tears again and couldn't stop apologising for being such a pain to everyone. Other mums hold it together, so why am I not coping??

That night, Husband slept in Baby Beans room. I slept in our room with the door closed, ear plugs in, and a message to not get up for 24 hours or more. I took 1 tiny blue zopiclone pill, but one hour later I was still awake, so, as prescribed, I took a second. I was still awake 40 minutes later and too scared to take another one so I found a sleep hypnosis app, and after listening to it twice (yes twice), I finally fell asleep.

I slept till 4am, and had to repeat the whole process again in order to get back to sleep.

Today, I am drifting in and out of a sleep state. I do feel better, but I know also that if I were to get up and pretend everything was fine right now, I don't know if I would actually survive the next few days.

I'm sure things will get better soon. I'm sure that I will figure out what's really going on and be able to finally manage it properly. I want to show my baby how much I love her, but clearly, that is not an option right now, as what I need is just to sleep. sleep. sleep. sleep.

Magical Mummy Moments

I know, I spend a lot of time on this blog complaining, or writing about how much harder this parenting business is than I ever anticipated. But, believe it or not, in amongst the exhaustion, disbelief and despair, there are some things about becoming a Mum, that I wouldn't exchange for anything, and it's not just the endless opportunities for selfies with a baby.

• Those super cute, delicious, never-let-this-moment-end, sweet baby conversations before they equally deliciously fall asleep.

• Those glorious heart-glow moments when they touch your face with their tiny hands - right before their finger goes up your nose.

• The unbridled excitement on their faces when you get them up in the morning - even though it's only 6:30am and you've only had five (lucky!) hours of sleep.

• The infectious almost-giggles that erupt when you make silly faces and equally silly noises.

• How much they love jumping, bouncing, flying, swinging - anything that gives your arms a workout. 

Of course, the frequency with which I now feel like I've achieved something momentous, is also a pretty good side affect of having a six month old - "yay, she is having a nap!" "Yay, she ate all her food!" "Yay, she slept for more than half an hour!" "BOOM! Look how much housework I managed to do!" "Yay, I managed to get her to stop crying!" "Yay! I figured out what is wrong!" "Yay, I knew just by her cry that she was tired/hungry/bored!" "YES! We left the house!" - But I digress.

Safe to say, having a six month old is a million times better than having a New Born. So I'm excited (probably somewhat naively) about what's in store for us next!

Waxing Philosophical

I remember, very clearly, the exact moment in which I realised that parents were people too.

I was 18 years old, sitting in the back of a tiny white sports car next to a bilingual Italian toddler, about to go over the alps from France to Italy, and I was talking to her Mum as though she were my peer. It suddenly struck me as crazy that this cool lady, just a few years older than me, should have given birth to, and now be solely responsible for, a human child.

This shocked me, to suddenly realise that parents were people too. More than that, that they were people who were like me, who had no more idea about raising kids than any other new parent. I remember looking at the toddler in shock and thinking, how are you still alive? How have you made it this far? And then looking back at her mum and thinking, aren't you afraid constantly? How do you know what to do?

Ridiculous as it may sound, I think we can all agree, that as children, we really believe that our Parents are not like our friends, they aren't like our aunties and uncles and they certainly aren't like our teachers or grandparents. Our Parents, were our Parents. That was all there was to it. They existed because we existed, not the other way around. 

Growing up, I trusted implicitly that my mum could make me feel better, that she would never let me go hungry, that I would always have clothing and books and that I'd never get too sick or injured that she couldn't fix it. I believed that my dad could protect us from everything, that we would always have at least some money, and that regardless of whatever happened, nothing would go terribly wrong because they were my Mum and Dad. They were my parents. With them around, everything would always be ok.

I see the same expectation in Little Beans smile, in her soft spoken baby conversations that she has with me, running her fingers over my face and cooing and gahing while we both stare into the others eyes. I see the unquestioning trust she has in me that everything will always be alright for her, and while my heart melts in those moments, at the same time I find myself dying from the fear of what I now know to be true.

I am just a person. I will do everything I can, but what if that is not enough? What if I can't be there for her? What if I can't make her better? What if I can't protect her from that stranger?

Poor Bean has her first cold, and last night, at 1:30am, developed her first cough. It's still unbelievable to me, how visceral my reactions to her pain are. When she cries, I tense up. When she is in pain, my heart literally aches. When she started coughing, each cough was like sandpaper inside my chest, and the fear in my stomach doubled with each one. Is it whooping cough? Croup? Pneumonia? Do we need to take her to the hospital? And with all that, the far too familiar feeling of anxiety, what if I can't make her better? What if, what if, what if....

Being a parent does not make you superhuman. You don't lose your previous identity by becoming a Mum or Dad. Being a parent simply makes you love someone like you never thought possible, and you live in constant fear of not being enough for them. In short, being a parent, is terrifying.

Three Mummies and a Baby

Equality In Parenting

This is a True Story.

Activity	Response to Mum	Response to Dad
Working Parent	“How can you bare to leave your baby?”	“Aww, such a good Dad.”
Full Time Stay At Home Parent	“What do you do with all your time?”	“Aww, such a good Dad.”
Feeding Baby in Public	Breastfeeding: “That’s disgusting!” “Put it away!” “Where do I look?” Bottle Feeding: “Why aren’t you Breastfeeding?”	“Aww, such a good Dad.”
Dealing with a screaming child	“Have you tried…” “Can you leave…” “Seriously, make it stop.”	“Where’s the Mum? Can I buy you a beer?”
Going out for a night on the town	Hahahahahahahahahahahaha! This, does not, happen.	“Mate! It’s been ages! Let me buy you a beer!”
Leaving Baby at home with dad for a few hours	“Are you sure they’re ok?” “Don’t you feel bad?” “Have you got your phone just in case?” “Where’s the baby?”	“You poor man. We’ll bring you beer!”

The Perfect Mum

Ironically, those lactation cookies actually worked. Even more ironic was when I realised that I was gutted that they had. But, once I realised this, suddenly everything became clear. I am done with the breast feeding.

Literally, as soon as I realised that, everything changed. I felt lighter than I had in ages, I suddenly had all this energy to play with Baby Bean, I wasn't in a constant state of guilt and anguish and the stubborn drive to persevere was no longer plaguing my every thought.

I feel like I can finally focus on just being her mum, rather than trying to live up to this perfect ideal of what her mum should be. In my head, this is the ideal I felt I had to reach for.

Well, let me tell you, if you are this person, then I salute you, NAY, BOW TO YOU!
You are a goddess of epic proportions and you should be given a medal. A really fucking big diamond medal.

I haven't met you yet though, which is strange considering that before Bean was born I believed you existed everywhere. I really thought that perhaps, I could even be you.

But alas, I cannot. In fact, in appears that despite the fact that this is what every mother is encouraged to be, told to be, and believes that she SHOULD BE, this perfect mum is a mythical creature who exists only in magazines and parenting books. The reality of mummyhood is far uglier, far less photogenic and definitely wouldn't sell magazines.

So, having reconciled the fact that me breastfeeding Bean to the age of 2 years and beyond is not a realistic nor achievable goal for our family, I feel my tight grasp on attempting to be a magazine mum disappearing. The guilt is sliding away with it, and with every bottle of formula I feed her, I feel more relaxed. I am becoming me again, and in the process, I am becoming her mum rather than trying to be societies version of her mum. The best mum for her, and the best mum for me. So for the first time in a very long time, Bean and I spent a fantastic, relaxed day together. She slept sometimes, and I napped then too, because I wasn't pumping. I cleaned a bit and played with her, did some baking and we even went out to the wildlife zoo together. When Hubby got home, I went out and bought a new bra and I feel fabulous.

Top 5 things I learnt last year

Well, it's the start of a new year, and that calls for a quick post.

Little Bean, it's been a hell of a journey. I say that quite literally, not gonna lie, but it's starting to become more fun now and I can even see (I can't believe I'm saying this), why people have more than one kid.

You said WHAT now?!

I learnt a heck of a lot last year, and find myself quite changed upon reflection. So I figured it would be prudent to record the five top changes and/or things I learnt during the course of last year - 2013.

• Before I had a baby, I was very afraid of vomit. Even the word would make me gag. The sight of babies drooling, spitting up, runny noses, or simply even the sound of someone gagging would be enough to set me off on a gag fest of my own. Now, I am regularly spat up on, vomited on multiple times a day, pooped on weekly (if I'm lucky) and frequently witness to epic projectiles, yet miraculously, I don't feel the slightest gag kick in anymore. WIN.

• Somehow, and I have no idea how this happens, you can actually get used to sleeping for just 2-3 hours at a time. Not just get used to it, but actually function on it. 

• You can have morning sickness and never actually be sick. You just feel like you are about to ALL the time. NB - if you are feeling like you are about to vomit, make sure you don't head for an alarmed exit. This is very embarrassing.

• Labour isn't the bit you should be scared about. Who knew. Although I'm not saying it wasn't scary. It's just that I didn't have time to think about how scary it was, and then it was all over. Also, episiotomy's are HUGE cuts, not little snips like I imagined. I see you squirming!

• Being open is incredibly important. Not only can it mean that you get the help you actually need, but in doing so you open up other people to share their experiences, and can bring people together. This has happened within my immediate and extended family through this blog. It's a shame it took so long and that people don't talk openly more, but without it, and the support that came with it, I don't know that I would have been as successful at getting through this year.

 2013 was the year of massive changes and overwhelming challenges. I challenged myself to face my anxiety head on, to perform live, to write songs, to become a better teacher, to become a mum. I started writing about all these things and my journey towards becoming a better me as a way to show others that they too can do it because I know I'm not the only 'anxious' person out there who wants more in their life.  I also didn't want my daughter to have a mum who limited herself. As a result of me documenting my journey, I have become more confident in myself, I have met new people and been privileged enough to have friends and strangers share their very personal stories with me. I faced two of my biggest fears last year and came through with greater understanding of who I am and who I can be and just how much I am truly capable of achieving. 

This year, is dedicated to my daughter. My goal is to keep writing, to get better at it, and to finish some of the novels I have started during my life and perhaps even get published somewhere. I am doing this for her, to show her that I can finish things, that I can see them through, and that it doesn't matter what other people think, as long as you are happy and content in yourself.

Happy 2014 everyone. 

Learning

Recently a blog has been circulating my Facebook circle, regarding what are good presents for childless people to buy for their friends kids, and what are not. As I read it, I found myself nodding my head at every single item...both because I had received these items and understood why not to give them, and also (strangely) because only months ago, I myself had gifted these exact items to friends with all the best of intentions.

CRAZY!

As we are now in the final two weeks of the year 2013, I find myself reflecting back on what an intense year it has been for our little family, and at the same time, suddenly realising just how much I have changed and learnt during the course of it.

So, in typical me fashion, I figured I'd blog about it!

The 2013 List of Things I Learnt About...

...BABY CLOTHES
The cuter the outfit, the less likely it is to be worn.

This goes for both baby and mum. Cute cotton baby dresses with frilly bits and gorgeous buttons that go UP THE BACK??? May look to-die-for on the rack, and believe me, you would rather die than attempt to put that on a baby and then have them wear it for a day. They end up under their armpits for the most part, nappies on display all day, buttons up the back are a nightmare to do on a baby that can't even sit up yet, let alone undoing them for the numerous changes you WILL have to endure because of spit up, leaking nappies, or just general wetness. Give me a onesie that has domes ONLY on the crotch, and is made of jersey fabric any day over a dress. Shove some cute pants over it, put on some socks and tuck those pants into the socks and you're set!

...PREGNANCY

It Sucks.

Even now, I am often confronted by Mums' who say things like 'don't you wish you could be pregnant again, just so you can have a break?'

Honestly? No. No, I do not. Pregnancy was painful, gross, tiring and just awful in every way. There was literally nothing I enjoyed about being pregnant. But there is plenty I like about being a Mum.

...CHILDBIRTH

Was a breeze compared to what came after.

You recall how I spent all that time freaking out about labour during the year? Well, mummies, I have learnt my lesson. Labour was awful, excruciating and terrifying, but at least it was definitely going to end, and with the epidural, I even managed to escape it for a while. The weeks immediately after giving birth are far, far worse. Physically, mentally, and emotionally extreme. In fact, I would do labour all over again if it meant I was spared those first few weeks....well the lack of sleep bits anyway. Which incidentally, is the majority of it.

...THE MUMMY CLUB CONSPIRACY

Those happy mums and gorgeous photos of happy families on facebook - It's only a glimpse of reality.

Sure, that status may say they are 'so in love', and that picture of the smiling baby is 'so adorable'. But that's only half the truth. Yes, they love the baby, but that doesn't mean they always like the baby. You try 'liking' a crying baby at 3am when you have literally done everything you can think of to calm them, and you haven't slept in 20 hours. Most parents only post the good times. Which in turn adds to the general opinion of childless people that babies are always awesome, and being a parent is easy.

...SLEEP

I can survive on much less than I ever thought possible.

I remember the days where I got 8 hours.....IN A ROW!! 

*Cue manic laughter*

I have nothing more to say on that topic.


...MY BABY
Is the most awesome thing that has ever happened to me. EVER.
Sure, I don't get much sleep, and I usually am only guessing at what she is wanting. But recently she has started having these awesome baby conversations with me, and smiling these amazing smiles. I think she really likes me! Which makes my heart glow brighter. I never get tired of her smiles, and I am so excited to know what her laugh sounds like, wether she's left or right handed, what her favourite food is, what song does she like the most, what does she sound like when she talks.....The future is a veritable feast of new discoveries and I can't wait.

Growing Up Catholic

One of the, dare I say, many unfortunate by-products of growing up Catholic, is that you feel guilty about everything. You feel a constant need to confess.

All the time.

It NEVER GOES AWAY!

When you become a parent, you also feel guilty. All of the time.

It

DOES

NOT

STOP!

So when you combine the two, you end up with a guilt overload. It's like crashing two atoms together and creating your own guilt universe. Everything you don't do perfectly becomes a catastrophe, everything you think and want for yourself is a terribly selfish thing, and you feel like you should simply go to your room and hide, or beg for forgiveness, or cry, or say sorry, or do all of those all at the same time!

Today is one of those days where I would give almost anything for someone to take my daughter for the day, simply so I can sleep for longer than 2 hours at a stretch and regain a sense of sanity. But even the fact that I am thinking that makes me feel like a horrible mother. No, a horrible PERSON, akin to a hun, or Stalin, or Sauron, or Darth Vader.

Thinking these thoughts makes me feel...

..Guilty.

These days where I wished this disappeared for a while, but now have returned with a vengeance. I'm really not sure why. Perhaps it's because my shoulders and back are aching from looking down at and holding a feeding baby for hours a day. Maybe it's because I'm so run down, I feel like I have been on the brink of having the flu for two weeks now and am waking up in-between night feeds with headaches and runny noises. Or perhaps it's to do with the increasing episodes of Mummy guilt over things I'm doing wrong, and encroaching anxiety as I realise how I truly could not cope if something unspeakable did happen.

At ten weeks, these are some valuable lessons I have learnt.

1. Cutting baby fingernails is a next to impossible and extremely dangerous endeavour. Best to mitten up their little hands or bite the nails while they are feeding. But even that can lead to disaster and screaming and GUILT.
2. The old wives tale (and popular opinion on 'the natural parent' facebook page and numerous mummy forums online) that breast milk will cure sticky eye (and all manner of other ailments) is a lie. In fact, it can make them much, much worse and you will end up feeling extreme GUILT when you do go to the doctor and they ask if that is what you have done. 
3. Going to the doctor is free for under 5's, even after hours. I feel GUILTY that I waited till sunday to take her, when I should have taken her on friday. I should have been more proactive.
4. Don't pick a baby up with one hand. This can lead to falling babies, babies knocking heads on things, screaming babies and extreme GUILT for you.
5. Babies don't always let you know when they need a new nappy. You have to remember to check and change them. If you don't remember and suddenly it's been 6 hours and when you do check they are really in need of a new one, guess what, you will feel very GUILTY!
6. Always have a cloth over your shoulder. Ironically, I don't have one there right now. Failing to do this wont make you feel guilty. It will just make you more washing.
7. Babies need to be entertained. They need "stimulation". They need it from you. If you are however, only getting about 5 hours maximum of broken sleep each night, then you will feel GUILTY for not being enthusiastic about this, and instead wishing that your baby would just go to sleep.

So, here I am, feeling like I am a horrendously lazy mother. Clearly I don't care or love my child enough because all I want to do is sleep. I don't want to spend the next hour repeating silly baby noises and poking her nose and forcing myself to smile and laugh because it makes her smile back occasionally. I want to sleep. 

And so here I am. Typing this. Feeling overwhelmingly

...Guilty.

Midnight Panic

I don't know which blog to write this on, so I'm going to put it in both.

I am awake now. Completely awake.
At least, that's what I'm telling myself. Baby is kicking up a storm, and has been for the past few hours now. I was finally drifting off to sleep, when I started to feel a bit uncomfortable.
My heart was beating just a little too hard.
My gut was feeling just a little too twisty.
My shoulders were getting just a little too tense.
I couldn't breathe right.
I was too hot.

I was about to Panic.

Normally, I try and make these blogs somewhat humorous, but right now, I just can't think how.
I tried to calm myself down without getting out of bed. But it wasn't working, everything was geting worse. I was starting to feel on the verge of being very ill, that the next step was going to be huddled in the bathroom.

I don't know what it is. Or why it's happening again. Luckily I didn't fall asleep. Luckily I realised what was happening before it fully happened.

But now what. I'm up. I'm tired. I'm scared to go back to bed, because it's all lingering in the back of my mind.

My heart is still beating too hard.
My stomach still doesn't feel right.
Maybe I have food poisoning?

I don't even know what I'm most worried about, what has brought this on?

I can't go through with this pregnancy?
I am so embarrassed about how I look. I can't remember anything. Everyone is looking at me all the time. Everyone thinks I'm too big. Everyone is judging everything I eat. I can't relax. I can't believe there is a living thing inside me. I can't make it stop. I have absolutely no control over it. I have no say anymore. I am trapped. I want this to be over. I want the baby to be here. I don't want to be pregnant anymore. I want a drink to calm me down. I want my body back. I want to be me again.


Putting on this show?
I don't feel we're ready to go ahead with the show. Everything is taking too long. Surely we should have run it a few times by now. Maybe I shouldn't have brought so many people on board. It's all blowing out of control. Out of proportion. Much bigger than it needs to be. There's more to do than I had originally intended for. This wasn't what I had planned. I don't know my words. I can't act. It's going to look lame. It's going to be awful. I'll let everyone down. I've built it up too much. What if I freak out too much and can't do it after all. Why did I even do this to begin with? I have too much on. I have too much to think about. I want it all to stop.

I don't feel any better yet.
I'm scared this is going to keep getting worse. Maybe it won't even stop when baby gets here.
I want to get off this ride now.

Relapse.

Three weeks ago, I found out that I was pregnant.

Now, this is a great thing, don't get me wrong. 

But that doesn't change the fact, that I am simply terrified!

The day before I found out, I was discharged by my anxiety counsellor as I had reached a good place and had plans in place to manage further anxiety and depression, then WHAMMO! Here is something new and scary for you to deal with. Needless to say, my doctor instantly referred me back to them - "the quickest relapse in history" I joked on the phone to her.

I am dealing with many weird feelings that I can't control. On the one hand, I am extremely excited to be a mum. On the other hand, I am pretty convinced that I am going to be in a state of panic for most of the pregnancy, and won't be able to cope. I am afraid of what my medications will do to the baby, I am afraid that I can't cope with morning sickness, that I will be anxious non stop for nine months, that I wil be the one woman in the history of the planet who cannot physically manage being pregnant, let alone the labour at the end.

In short, I want to be knocked out now, and woken up when it's over.

But what am I even worried about? Pregnancy is a joyous time, with glowing skin and happy anticipation, everyone congratulates you and comments on how happy you must be. I smile and agree, but on the inside I am crumbling in the knowledge that I have lost control of my body for the meantime, that waves of nausea will hit me without notice, that I am sore, and tired and hungry and generally just constantly afraid, but I don't mention this. Because then I sound like a bad mum-to-be.

I was originally blogging about my journey towards producing an album and my experiences with going public about my depression and anxiety. But for now, I think this is bigger. I have searched for blogs or information about being pregnant and having an anxiety disorder and how to cope, they are few and far between. So for the meantime, I will vent on here, and hopefully someone else who understands will comment and make me feel better, or even better - someone else in my situation will gain a little bit of encouragement that they are not alone.