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Showing posts from February, 2019

The Mothers UK interview

***NEW POST***KATE, HATTIE AND ALICE*** Name: Kate Age: 34 Children: Hattie, 3 Alice, 1 Expectations of motherhood: Autumnal walks in the woods. Cosy cuddles on the couch. Breastfeeding my baby in costa while chatting with friends. This is how I would spend motherhood. The baby would fit right in, we wouldn't change, she would simply fit in with our routine. Right? Reality of motherhood: Oh, the naivety. Where to start? Breastfeeding, I thought it would be simple, all babies latch on easily enough don't they? Tongue tie? Never heard of it. Silent reflux? Never heard of it? It's safe to say that depsite having a close network of family and friends who had children, I had no idea of how overwhelmingly terrifying motherhood would be. Depsite this, we did it. Then did it again. Taking your baby home: After spending 8 days in hospital after a slightly (very) traumatic labour and recovery, we were desperate to take our beautiful daughter, Hattie, home. Once home, the rea

A letter to my first.

Growing up, I'd been fortunate enough to be blessed with siblings and, because of this, I hoped I would be able to have another after Hattie. I wanted her to experience what I had as a child and as an adult: the closeness, the bond, the togetherness. I spent most of my pregnancy feeling terrified that I was 'pushing my luck' having another when I'd already been blessed with one healthy little girl. I prepared for the sleepless nights; I'd experienced a reflux baby and knew how hard that could be. What I hadn't prepared myself for was the guilt surrounding Hattie -  my little Hattie, who suddenly seemed like a giant. There was a new baby, a new focus, a new responsibility and just like that: my time, my attention, my patience was halved. And I found that so hard... I've written about my experiences with Alice and how I suffered with PND, but never really touched on the feelings surrounding my first. I wrote this when Alice was 3 months old and if I&

Man up.

Man up ? What does this mean? Be tough?  Get it together? Hold it in? For some, this can be used as a flippant term and in no way meant insulting or damaging. But when you look behind the words, how can it not be? You're telling someone to stop feeling and insinuating that, because of their gender, they should be tough. How can than this be anything other than damaging, for individuals and society. I was a little apprehensive about writing this, maybe because I'm a woman and a mum and not a man or a dad that I feel somewhat unqualified to talk about it, not wanting to offend, presume, or insult anyone. But, more of me says post than discard. And here's why: Men suffer; men cry; men worry; men panic; men weep; men feel; men hold it in; men try to keep it together; men get lonely; men feel isolated; men get anxious; men get deprssed; men get sad and men take their own lives too. When I think back to when our first was born, I want to kick myself for not asking how Har

Truth behind the grid.

What is our truth? We have become so accustomed to society sending subliminal messages and influencing our decisions that, for many of us, they go against what our real inner truth is.  Decisions we would ordinarily make easily become difficult, it becomes a game of second guessing and then we are left wondering and obsessing if we made the right one. This applies to everyone and not just parents.  We are so overwhelmed with images of the 'picture perfect' life that the decisions we make can often be made as a result of what we feel we 'should' be doing as opposed to what we really want to be doing. This continuous comparison of what you see and what feel you should (a) be doing, (b) be feeling, or (c) look like, can often have a negative impact on your emotional well - being. On a conscious level,  we know that this isn't 'real life' and that it's only a snapshot, a poisoned chalice of the truth behind the screen, yet we scroll and subconsciou

Simply the breast

Simply the breast. For me, breast feeding was awful. There, I said it. I knew that I wanted to breast feed, but I always worried I would struggle. I would struggle with not knowing how many ounces they had taken, if they were full, if they were satisfied, if they were really getting any. I was told you'd know in a week if they were feeding as if not, they'd lose weight. For me, this was too scary, too stressful and I felt too overwhelmed with fear that I would get it wrong. It was out of my control and, when my life felt upside down, me knowing exactly how much she had taken was the control I needed in order to function. I was very lucky, I had a solid support circle around me, a mixture of some that had bottle fed and some who had breast fed - so I can't blame me feeling forced into it on any external pressure; it was all me. I wanted both my girls to latch on and be fulfilled with what I could give them, I wanted to do what nature had designed my body to do. Or

Just snap out of it.

Unhelpful and harmful. Phrases, such as: • just snap out of it •you're being daft • you'll feel better once you're out •stop analysing •stop stressing about nothing •get a grip •you're crazy •come on just get up ☝️ are all phrases that can be harmful and unhelpful. I'm a self confessed  'overthinker' and, at times, can still find myself falling down the analytical rabbit hole, with no real sense of where I'm going or how to get back. But I've found it much easier to climb back out  when I've been shown patience, kindness and reassurance. Sometimes, it's about listening, not advising. Asking, not telling.  Reassuring, not chastising and simply acknowledging that, while you might not completely understand or even agree with the worry, concern or anxiety, it's extremely difficult to just 'snap' out of it. A lot of the time it's not an answer that is needed or helps: it's a hug, kind words, a reassuring smile, or me