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It’s taken me to get out here to realise how long it has been since I have posted anything… Putting pen to paper again, (OK, fingers to an iPad, but still…) feels so damn good – I cannot believe I have forgotten that feeling. Looking out to the serenity of the warm Australian sunshine and outback land, along the great ocean road, feeling at ease in my head and my mind right at this moment, I cannot believe I haven’t done it sooner. Looking around me and thinking that I have nothing on my mind, things to do, or have to get done, chores, bills to be paid, de-cluttering or organising to complete. I’m at rest. Why I hear you ask? Because I’m away from the household, away from the everyday stresses that life throws at me. Away from the day-to-day grind of children crying and husbands whining and a baby constantly at my boob. Away from someone always wanting something. Not the pink ate, the purple plate. The baby wants to be picked up. Husband wants chops for dinner not chicken. Not needing or having to make a decision about anything. True peace.
So being out here on the great ocean road has made me realise one thing, well a couple of things really, but one I wanted to mention to you… Three months ago I started this journey – this blogging journey. And I’ve written one post. ONE post! How rude I am. So I’d like to apologise to you, I’m sorry, sorry for being busy, for not posting to you, not updating you on life and fun and amazing discussions and thoughts and just life. So here we go, second post…
Three months since I welcomed my second child into the world. Three months, since I heard his first little cry coming out of my ceaser scar. Three months since his tiny little mouth try to suck from my big breast. Three months since feel anxious about his arrive. Suffering Post-natal depression with my first born, I was very concerned that there would be a repeat offence this time around. First holding my son I was so happy and worried, it’s an amazing feeling. But I was scared. Breastfeeding was the part where I felt most concerned. Having trouble with my eldest, attachment, cracked nipples, mastitis, hospitalisation, fear of judgement by strangers and staying inside, continuosly lead to my PND. Women need to understand that breastfeeding is learned, by both the mother and the baby. Although they say that breastfeeding is natural, it’s not natural while learning it. When you become a mother, you want to do everything right – and yes, breast is best, but when it costs you your mental stability and sanity, mothers need to realise that there are other choices. Although, my husband wouldn’t let me formula feed, looking back I think it would have been the best choice for me. There are so many pressures from society, not just to breast feed, but to ensure your baby is drinking enough, has enough wet nappies, sucking for long enough, pooing enough, being cleaned enough, smiling, laughing rolling, meeting all of their developmental milestones too! I felt trapped. Not only did this little human want me to feed it, it needed me. And because I would feed in public, I didn’t go anywhere. Hence, PND was born. I knew something wasn’t right about a month after my eldest was born. But it wasn’t until the edinbrough test, my maternal child health nurse gave me until it was determine I had PND. And really, I should have known, I was hallucinating. To the point where I couldn’t open the front door because I thought a mob, with pitch forks and lives and swots and torches were coming to kill me because I was a bad mother. Or so it seemed in my head. The health nurse said to me that they start to worry about mothers who calculate 6 or more on the test. I scored 18.
So being pregnant again with my second opened up some big concerns. Everyone asked me if I suffered depression with my eldest, to which I replied yes – why was I to lie? But it was great that all the health professionals knew and they were aware come this baby. Three months on and several edinbrough tests later, and no depression! And yes, I have my days. What mother has To? But I believe that it all comes down to confidence. I truly believed I was a bad mother first time around. This time, I believe I am the best. My expectations have changed. Yes, I’m never up to date on my washing, my house could do with serval cleaners and my cooking… I take the chance to sleep and my husband cooks. My mother hates the fact that I have a messy house, and with my first, I did too, I would cry over the state of it. Now? I play with my kids, I watch them smile and laugh and I get involved with them I texting together and with their father and with me. As my doctor says, change your expectations. Mine originally where to have a pristeen house and children sat in the background. Now my walls are filled with painting my daughter made for me and my sons first photo with Santa. I expect to put on one load of washing and one load of dishes every day – well I just think that’s being realistic and now I don’t cry anymore when the baby wakes up. I happily feed him. Thank you to whoever invented nipple shields.
Love and awesomeness xx