Diary of a Second Time Mum - Breaking All of My "First Time Mum" Rules

8th July - 2 weeks old

Dear Diary

Sitting here feeding (yet again!) contemplating the past two weeks with the new man in our lives, I realised how calm, relaxed and laidback I've been this time round. This reflection also got me thinking about the strict and stringent rules that I had set for myself as a first time mother and how completely ridiculous they were. Also how those rules had no bearing over how my daughter is today.

I can proudly say that 2 weeks in, I have already rebelled and broken the following rules:

• My child will not have a dummy (I requested one be brought to the hospital on the second day after the first night was spent sleepless with an unsettled baby. And wouldn't you know it, he wouldn't take it. But having it there as back up was reassuring in a way)
• My child will be breastfed, not formula fed (This one went out the window on our first night at home. He wouldn't settle and seemed to be hungry no matter how much I fed. So I cracked open the tin of formula I'd bought before he was born, mixed up a bottle, and wouldn't you know it ...... he wouldn't take it! Again it was reassuring to know that I had another option)
• My child will sleep in its own cot/bassinette (This rule was broken I think on the 3rd or 4th night home. Little Mister loves to be held and it's been awfully cold. There's something wonderful and cosy about snuggling close with your baby that I missed out on with my daughter, seeing as though she spent her first few months in the brace correcting her hips. I have been sleeping half sitting up to make sure he's safe. His favourite place in the world is snuggled into  my chest between my boobs like a little koala bear :)
• My child will wear cloth nappies (This time around I knew disposables are the way to go. During the newborn phase who really has time to wash pooey nappies! I do have a confession to make though ... during the crazy "get everything ready because baby is coming soon" stage, I did diligently wash all the cloth nappies and stack them neatly in the cupboard. A couple of days later I came to my senses and realised I was off in some fantasy world and immediately packed them all back into the garage. Maybe some day .....) 

It feels good to know that I can be flexible and adaptable adjusting to the circumstances as they arise, rather than being imprisoned by the notion of right and wrong. If I've learned anything, it's that there is  no right or wrong, there just is.

Some days you just need to do whatever you can to get through the day and if that means spending the day in your pj's on the couch giving your little one snuggles because that's what they need in that moment, well that's what's happening that day. The housework can wait. The dishes can wait. The outside world can wait. Because right now I am really enjoying getting to know this new little man we've been blessed with and I'm sure soon enough there'll be time to tend to life's other menial tasks!

Until next we meet.

Sending love

Shanelle

xxx

Preparing for the Impending Arrival of Our New Addition

The weeks have been steadily ticking over and all of a sudden, we've reached the 30 week mark. According to Miss 4, there are only 2 pages of the calendar left to go.

 I have no idea where that time has gone or how I got to being here!What I do know is that it's all systems go and my tummy has been steadily increasing in size and the intensity of movements felt grows by the day. If I didn't know any better I would think there's half a football team growing inside of me, but apparently there's only a sole player!

I feel pretty calm and relaxed about the journey this time. In some ways second time round is easier and yet more difficult. Having Miss 4 means I can't just crawl into bed when I feel like it, having eaten spaghetti on toast because that's all the strength I could muster in the gourmet meal department.

My back and hips have been giving me hell and for the last few weeks my ever-expanding belly has felt much larger than the first time. Yet this time I have a little girl who is excited beyond belief and ready to give a helping hand to her Mum organising baby brother things.


This time the rules have gone out the window. I am prepared and ready for any situation that may arise. Yes, I have purchased dummies, bottles, breast pump, formula, and all the other things that were on my old "not required because I will be the perfect Mum" list. We've been busy washing clothes and sorting out baby's room. I've had the best helper alongside of me and there have been times where I've been in trouble for doing things she's wanted to do.

The other week we'd taken the bassinet apart to wash all the bits and pieces and had miraculously managed to reassemble it to its former state. Upon putting it into the baby's room, I said to Miss 4 that this was for the baby and not a toy for her doll babies. I turned my back to do something and in the meantime she'd laid out a hat, a jacket and pants. When I asked her what she was doing she replied, "I'm just checking to see if he'll fit in here!".

She's so excited and cannot wait to meet her baby brother. I'm not sure how long that will last once he arrives and isn't going back into Mummy's tummy. She's constantly kissing my belly and talking to her brother, it's the sweetest thing. And yet part of me worries that that will all change. Of course things will change and will be different. As a family we have a whole lot of adjusting to do as we eagerly await the arrival of our newest member.

This time in my heart I know things will be different. I know that no matter what happens I have the strength and resilience to make it through. Even if I do fall in a heap, I know that's okay too. I know I don't have to put on a facade to show the world I am coping when I am not. I am forever grateful to have my daughter eager to lend a helping hand. She tells me I will be able to sleep and Dad will still be able to watch the football while she's taking care of the baby. I'm guessing I may need to master the art of sleeping with one eye open.

I feel we've been blessed as a family in so many ways. People often balk when they hear that there will be an almost 5-year gap between the two. What many don't realise is that just because you fell pregnant once, doesn't mean there are guarantees there will be future pregnancies or the difficulties experienced to conceive another. After the ectopic pregnancy, the odds definitely weren't in our favour.

No matter what happens from here on in, we'll make the most of what comes our way. We'll face the challenges as a family and share the laughs too, no doubt there will be plenty of both. Sending love to you and your family this week. Take a moment to appreciate what you have together. Perhaps it's time to introduce a new family ritual. Here are some of the things that have melded their way into our family:

* Family cuddles - a whole group hug with all of us, randomly
* Family day - usually on a Sunday where we spend some time together. It may be as simple as getting in the car and going for a drive
* Eating dinner at the table when we're all home together, usually we light a candle and talk about our big day

Remember - it's the littlest of things that create the greatest memories. xxx 

Silent Screaming

As the weeks wore on, my feelings about myself and motherhood weren’t getting any better. I loved my baby, yet I didn't love me and how I felt. Constant anxiousness, racing heart, tight chest and shallow breathing were my new friends. I felt like I was drowning. I felt so out of control that I had to control everything I could.

When I was feeding our baby girl, her feeds were timed. Ten minutes on each breast, I recall being the magic number and the rule I had. I hated feeding. It was so uncomfortable. I hated not being able to move and hated even more those moments when I needed to go to the toilet but was in the middle of a feed and not able to take her off the breast knowing all hell would break loose if I did. So I carried on, hating it.

I wondered what was wrong with me. I didn’t get the warm and fuzzy feeling that I’d heard many mums talk about when they were feeding their babies. I felt so relied upon all the time and that scared the living daylights out of me.

There were days when I couldn’t shift the anxiety. I couldn’t bear to hear our girl cry. If I did, I would start too. There was so much sadness in my heart. My favourite hangout when she was sleeping was in the bottom of our walk-in robe with the door firmly closed. Enveloped in darkness, I felt safe. My external environment matched how I felt on the inside. I remember silently screaming. So many fears and emotions running rampant, I just couldn’t get them out. I didn’t know how to. I didn’t know what the consequences would be. And so they stayed inside me and the internal screaming continued to get louder and louder.

But the feeling in my chest just wouldn’t let up. I can clearly recall the day that I realised my world was falling apart. It was 7am in the morning and I’d already done 3 loads of washing, hung them on the line,  baked a chocolate cake, some monte carlos and had an apple pie on the way. It was as if I had a momentary out of body experience. From afar I saw myself doing what I was doing and said to myself, “This is freaking crazy! You are not okay and you need to talk to someone about this. It can’t be normal!”

It seemed like forever until it was 8.30am and I could ring the doctor’s surgery to make an appointment with my GP. Finally I got through.  The receptionist must have picked up that things were not good with me; she managed to get me in straight away. As I got off the phone, I felt relief. The tears were streaming down my face and the feeling of hopelessness and imperfection came bubbling up again. In my heart I knew I was doing the right thing for myself and for our baby girl.

Sitting in the room with the doctor, I managed to tell her what I had been going through. I felt safe with her and trusted her. Through the tears I managed to tell her my story, how I hated breastfeeding, how I felt like a failure and how I wasn’t cut out for motherhood. She turned to me and said, “If the mother is happy, then the baby is happy. If you being happy means stopping breastfeeding and moving to formula, then so be it”. It was really that clear cut and simple.

I was with her for a long time. I talked. I cried. I shared my pain. She just sat and listened and offered me tissue after tissue. She then looked at me and said, “I think you may have postnatal depression, with what you’ve experienced with the birth and everything else that you’ve gone through”. In a sense, there was relief. What I was going through was abnormal and yet again, I wasn’t alone. Now I had a label to add to the collection, and it definitely wasn’t Chanel.

Together we came up with a plan. Start weaning baby off the breast and get her onto formula. Then we could start to take care of me. She gave me options. Once baby was weaned I could go onto medication and see a psychologist. I was to see her every other week as well, so she could keep track of my progress. I left with a fistful of pamphlets about post-natal depression, it’s causes and it’s treatments to take home to share with my partner, phone numbers for Lifeline in case I needed someone else to talk to, phone numbers for playgroups because I needed to start mingling more with other mums and her own personal mobile.

As we left, that familiar sense of failure came back. I had felt so completely safe and trusting in the doctor’s office. Yet as soon as I was back in reality, I felt totally out of control. I had no idea how I was going to explain to my partner what was going on with me and what was happening in my head.

That night I had a discussion with my partner about my visit to the doctor. I had always struggled with knowing the “right” thing to say. When I was younger, I would spend hours having conversations in my head, just to ask my parents a simple question like “Could I go to the disco on Friday night”. Communicating my feelings to my partner was a huge risk and I was terrified of how it he would accept it.

I was able to tell him about our trip to the doctor and her recommendations. He told me there was nothing wrong with me; it was all in my head. Darn tooting right it was in my head!!! He wasn’t in favour of me going on medication, but said if that helped, then so be it. He agreed that the breastfeeding was upsetting me and wanted to become more involved in that side of things. I couldn’t help but feel that I had let him down too, that on some level I had failed his expectations of motherhood.

And I guess this is where it all fell down for me. I had the picture in my head of how it should be and what the right thing was and the wrong thing was. There was no room for someone to throw a spanner in the works and change the course of my pre-planned events. Over time I’ve learnt to loosen my grip on control and have learnt to go with the flow more. To just relax, take a deep breath and trust that things will work out the way they are meant to.

 

Journey of a Lifetime

Have you ever planned a holiday to some exotic location? Your tickets are booked. You’re busily reading everything you can get your hands on about your dream destination. You daydream. You fantasize. You imagine what it will be like to be somewhere you’ve never been before – to hear a different language, make an attempt to speak the language, to try different food and to experience a different culture. You’ve talked to your friends who been there before you and gotten their advice about the hot spots, the do’s, the dont’s. You’re pumped. Suitcase is packed. You’ve got your passport, your ticket and your hopes and dreams are pinned on this adventure of a lifetime. You are filled with anticipation, hope, excitement and curiosity.

There are some things in life you just can’t prepare for. It doesn't matter how much you research or how many books you read or how many other people you talk to who have been through the same experience, you just can’t prepare for becoming a mother. You also can’t walk down the street pregnant without a stranger offering some random advice and throwing in their two cents about what’s right and what’s wrong when it comes to motherhood and childbirth.

No two birthing experiences are ever the same. We are all unique as individuals, our bodies built perfectly for us. The birthing manuals can’t possibly cover it all. Well if they did, it would probably be a 24-volume encyclopedia version, and what mum-to-be has time to read that while she’s busy preparing for the arrival of her precious bundle. That same precious bundle that’s destined to turn her life and her world upside down and inside out, and not just during the birthing process, but potentially for the next 18 years or so as the bundle goes through the various stages of development and growth.

No book or conversation I had with anyone around pregnancy, motherhood or giving birth could have possibly prepared me for the experience I encountered when my beautiful girl came into this world 4 years ago. I was ready for her. I had wanted children for a very long time. I had natural maternal instincts. I believed that motherhood was my destiny and my future would see me as a stay-at-home mum raising a brood. My pregnancy was like a dream. No morning sickness for me. Everything was like clockwork, all according to the books and magazines ( the couple that I read) !

I remember at my 37-week check up with my GP, she told me that baby’s head was engaged and we were ready to go. I also remember at my 38-week check up with the new, young obstetrician at the hospital that he had some doubt as to whether or not the head was in fact engaged. At the time I laughed at him, mainly because :

a)      He was young and male

b)      I trusted my female GP implicitly

For whatever reason, he eventually concluded that things were as they should be and sent me home to wait out our impending, and much-anticipated arrival.

So I did. Everything was washed. Everything was set up. Everything was ready to go. All we needed was our baby. At ten past midnight on my due date, my waters broke. Off to the hospital we went. I had no labour pains at this stage and when the nurse checked me out at hospital she was going to send me down to the ward to see if anything was going to happen, except there weren’t any spare beds.  There was however a vacant birthing suite, so off we went to “see what happened”.

At 5.30am, I turned to my partner and told him I was ready to push and to find a midwife, they’d been few and far between. He looked at me like I was some crazy woman, but off he went nonetheless. When he returned with the midwife, she gave me the same crazy look, said she’d check things out to see what was going on.  She confirmed that I was indeed ready to push.

Nothing I had read, heard or talked about prepared me for what was to come. After some pushing it was confirmed that my baby was in the breech position. I was offered a c-section or to keep pushing to have a natural birth. My partner chose the second option, as I’d expressed my beliefs around c-sections. It was only to happen if it became a life or death situation.  
Pushing again and passing the time limit, without a baby, I was told that I hadn’t gotten very far, despite the midwives having convinced me I was about to give birth any minute.

I was whisked down to theatre for an emergency c-section, one leg hanging in the air as I was wheeled through the corridors and into the lift. In theatre, I was awake and conscious of what was going on. I don’t remember much of the actual process. I recall some tugging at my stomach and the doctor pulling our baby out and taking her to the observation table.  A reassuring cry came from our baby. The doctor came over, without telling us if we’d had a boy or girl (we were leaving it as a surprise), to inform us that there was something wrong with the baby’s leg and they’d need to investigate.

In that moment, I told myself that I was a failure. I wasn’t even good enough to get making a child right. I carried that with me for a very long time! It was all my fault. I was a failure. I wasn’t good enough. I was so disappointed in myself and felt like I’d let my partner down. I took that one moment and made it mean the end of the world in my mind. I could have chosen to be grateful for the fact that my child was otherwise healthy and well. After all, all of her limbs were intact and she was perfect in every way.

As humans, we tend to focus on the tiny negative aspect, rather than the more abundant positives that surround us. Focussing on the negative is to our detriment. I didn’t know any better at the time! I do now and so make conscious choices on a daily basis to be grateful, to focus on the positives, to live in the moment and to appreciate the little things. There is no guidebook for life. There is no rule book set in stone. Life is for living. Life is for making mistakes. Life is for breaking and bending the rules. Life is for figuring it out. Life is for making it happen. Lighten up. Live in the moment. Love your life for who you are and the experiences that have shaped the wonderful person you are today.