The end of her childhood

 

 

The last few months have been monumental for my eldest child.

 

She has graduated from high school, the last two under stressful circumstances. Received two awards, been accepted into ACU in the young achievers program, before op results were released!, got beautifully frocked up for her formal, and turned 18.

 

I can't believe I have an 18 year old daughter. I have an ADULT child. How did that happen?

 

She is amazing. Her tenacity will get her far in life. She never never gives up.

 

I wonder where she got that from? ;)

 

I love you Lauralei. To the moon and back.



 

Graduating Year 12

 

 

Year 12 Formal

SeaWorld

18th Birthday

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Tales from my table: Mum what's an alcoholic

Lots of conversations happen around my table between myself and my two teens. A lot of them I have to put my mother hat away, and put on my "I'm just having a conversation with two teenagers" hat. The difference is I have to emotionally detach from being their mother.

Recently one such conversation involved a discussion around alcohol and alcoholism. Laura declared that she thought her father was an alcoholic. I was surprised, as when he and I were together that's not a label I would have given him. I asked her why she thought that. "Because when he gets home from work he will have a couple of cans of JD, or bottles of beer."

When my teens father and I were together, he was more in the habit of binge drinking. You know, go out, get smashed, not drink until the next time. We met when I was 19, so it was clubbing, socialising, dancing, and general misbehaving. By the time we had Laura and Nathan, he would have the occasional beer after work.

Later Nathan asked me, "Mum, what is an alcoholic? Because I don't agree with Laura. I don't think Dad is!" I told him to look it up. I felt a written explanation would give him better information then I, and also information that was less emotive on my part.

So he did.

al·co·hol·ism

noun \ˈal-kə-ˌhȯ-ˌli-zəm, -kə-hə-\

 

Definition of ALCOHOLISM

1

: continued excessive or compulsive use of alcoholic drinks

2

a : poisoning by alcohol

b : a chronic disorder marked by excessive and usually compulsive drinking of alcohol leading to psychological and physical dependence or addiction

 

 

I asked him if after reading that whether he thought his father was an alcoholic or not. Nathan decided that he wasn't. And I agreed.

 

I looked at him and asked, "Do you know anyone who is like that?"

 

He looked at me, our eyes connected in collective recognition, "Yes."

 

My reply. "Yes. Yes he is."

 

Pretty much what my recycle bin looks like on a bi-weekly basis

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Boy to Man

He is always going to be my first born son. I just have to get my head wrapped around that he is now a young man....

Playing along with Trish at My Little Drummer Boys

 

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I spoke the truth

The truth will set you free.
The irony of this statement is that it was the only good advice my father, my abuser, gave me.
Today I will speak on the radio about how important it is to educate your children about sexual abuse and how to keep themselves safe. I'm free

From about the age of two, every now and then Laura and I would read a story book called Yummy touches, Yukky Touches. It was a book that had been given to me from my counsellor when I asked her how I could teach my children about sexual abuse and how to take care of themselves. It was a simplistic book, with simple drawings, and simple concepts. Themes easy to recognise for a young child. It talked about how you feel on a lovely sunny day compared to how you felt sitting in a hot car on a sunny day. One, you feel yummy inside, the other makes you feel yukky inside. It talked about five people, like your five fingers, that you could tell if something was making you feel yukky inside. As a parent you would discuss with your child who those five people could be.

It was great because it gave her and I a common point to start from, in language she could identify with. There were certain people in our lives that made me feel uncomfortable - 'yukky' inside. I made the choice that I would rather err on the side of caution then not listen to that uncomfortable feeling inside because someones feelings were going to get hurt. I am her mother. Its my job to protect her and teach her to keep herself safe.

One day when Laura was five, she and I sat together playing with play dough. It was lovely to spend time with her, one on one. Having a little brother meant it didn't happen as much it used to. It also provided the opportunity to have a conversation with her that we'd had from time to time. The yummy yukky chat. We would talk about the book, and who the five people were that she could talk to. Sometimes they changed, most of the time they were the same five people. People that I had very deliberately placed in her life. Mummy, Daddy, Sam, Sharon, Granma.

We had been talking, and had moved on to other things, what could we make, what should we have for dinner, just generally playing. Then, from out of nowhere, Laura looked at me and asked, "Mummy, when you were a little girl, did someone touch you?"

I froze.

My internal dialogue argued as to what my response was going to be, screaming all at the same time OH MY GOD!!!!!

I had made a very conscious choice when I had children that I would answer their questions truthfully, age appropriately, and if felt that they didn't need to know right now then I would say that. Not Lie.

OH MY GOD!!!!!

The pause between Laura asking me the question, and my silence was long enough to prompt her to ask me again. "Mummy? ... Did someone touch you?"

I looked at my darling innocent child, torn between telling the truth and wanting her to remain in a world that was safe, full of fairies and magic and bad stuff didn't happen... 

 I spoke the truth.

"Yes. ... They did." (and exhale...)

She looked at me, with those beautiful blue eyes, "Why did you let them?"

I took a deep breath. "Because no one ever told me that it was OK to say no."

She got up from her chair, came and sat on my lap, wrapped her little arms around me, giving me a big cuddle. My beautiful girl, who taught me what unconditional love meant.

Last Wednesday I did something that was huge. I used my voice. I spoke my truth, in about as public arena as I have ever been in. On ABC 612 with Steve Austin.


When Naomi from Seven Cherubs contacted me asking if I wanted to do something in educating our children about how to keep themselves safe from sexual abuse my answer was a resounding YES! My own experiences led me to seek information on how I can keep my children safe from the moment I found out I was pregnant with my daughter. Its information that I passionately feel needs to be shared, over and over, and over again.


Sexual abuse is not a warm fuzzy subject people want to talk about. Because it's not, it is even more important that we are having these conversations, sharing information, educating our children. We teach our kids how to stay safe on the road, the right foods to eat to look after our bodies, how to not spread germs when you have a cold. Constantly, every day, we have opportunities to teach our children something about the amazing world we live in. Yet, so many of us balk when it comes to discussing with our children how to keep themselves safe from predators.


Do they balk because they don't know how to approach it? or have a mentality it won't happen to my child? or because they would rather not look, don't see? It could be any of these reasons, all of them, or something completely different. My plea is don't balk. Walk outside your comfort zone, and educate YOURSELF so you can educate your children.


Bravehearts is a valuable resource for parents. Want some facts? This PDF is full of them. They run an education program Ditto's Keep Safe Adventure Show and have resources available to buy through their online shop.


There is a myriad of children's picture books that can be used in a safe, healthy way to share information with your child. I have listed three below:


The Right Touch A Read Aloud Story to Help Prevent Child Sexual Abuse by Sandy Kleven
Everyone's got a bottom by Family Planning Queensland
My Body Belongs to me by Jill Starishevsky


I looked at the catalogue at my local library. Two of the above books where available to borrow. So check out your local library if you don't want to buy one.

Nathalie over at Easy Peasy Kids also has some great resources - this blog post talks about teaching your children how to say no

Seven Cherubs has also written 10 Tips to protect your children from being sexually abused.

I can't thank Namoi, Amanda and Steve enough for the opportunity to stand back in my power. I'm back from that place of fear. I'm not going anywhere. I have a voice, and I'm going to use it.


If you want to hear my debut on the radio click here to get taken to the podcast.


Please re-share this. I will never ask you to share a post of mine every again. But this one. Please.

This is as real as you can get. And because its so important to me to reach as many people as I possibly can I'm joining up with Jenni from Story of My Life May Challenge - Day 20 of Blog Every Day In May. Get real. Share something you're struggling with right now.

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Hat Juggling

Image Credit

This is what the week before I started working, and the week of, looked like.

Week before:

Nathan gets cranky because he will not be able to play soccer, as I work on Saturdays and will need him to look after Aston on that day. The fact that he is getting paid to do this doesn't seem to matter. A whole lot of "it's not fair" "this sucks" "I hate my life" are heard. Loudly.

The washing machine breaks down, my to my delight. On informing Laura, her response is, "Well it had better be fixed by Wednesday! I need my uniform for work on Thursday!!" (Obviously I have conspired to make life as difficult as possible for her, because, you know, she will be the only one affected by not having a working washing machine!)

The night before I start work, Aston bursts into tears at the dinner table and declares "I don't want you to go to work!"

Needless to say, I am starting my new job with a healthy  unhealthy dose of mother guilt. This is going to be interesting.

Day 1:
AM - Nathan has a tantrum because I won't let him take his iPod to school. "Its MY iPod! Why can't I take it to school?!?" Hmmm... Let's see. BECAUSE THE LAST ONE WAS STOLEN!

Laura, who is at a school leadership camp calls me, up in arms at the travesty of having to hand her mobile phone in. The fact that it clearly said on the note that mobile phones weren't to be used, as the purpose of the camp was for the school leaders to build rapport with each other seems to invade her. While I did want to be able to contact her, as no contact number had been supplied, I could understand the reasoning behind this. Having this discussion with her, after already dealing with the gangster teen, while trying to get ready for work, was not on my to do list for the day!!

PM - I get home from work, somewhat exhausted. My brain about to explode from information overload, and my body about to collapse from being vertical all day. Nathan arrives home from Karate training, indignant that he "had to ride MYSELF to karate!!" Laura calls from camp, on her teacher's mobile, completely self absorbed. "I'm so tired." She has completely forgotten that I have started work until I remind her. At dinner Aston asks me, "When are you not going to be working anymore?"

Day 2:
AM - Aston wakes at 5am, in the throes of an asthma attack. In between gasps of breath, he hysterically announces "I don't want to die!!" Such comforting words for me to hear.... I manage to calm him down enough to be able to take Ventolin. I sit with him, laying against me upright, watching cartoons, and him telling me "I don't want you to go to work". I wait to see which way this is going to go, Ventolin work, and him settle, or off to the hospital.  In my head, I'm thinking, Great start to my new job, second day I have to ring up and say I can't come in...

Thankfully, the Ventolin does its thing, and he settles. But, my anxiety is still high, and I don't feel comfortable with him going to school. The inner dialogue is rampant. My mother is still on holidays with us, and tells me, "its OK Vicky. I'm here. Go to work." Reluctantly, I get ready, and go.

PM - Laura returns from camp to the school at 5.30. I have arranged for her boyfriend's mother to pick her up, as I don't finish work until 5.30, and her school is a 20 minute drive away. When I pick her up, I'm on automatic. The lights are on, but no-ones home. She gets in the car, and promptly has a melt down of .8 on the Richter scale of melt downs. Physical and mental exhaustion after spending three days participating in an ANZAC style Leadership Boot camp will do that to you. I suck up my own exhaustion, arrive back in my body, and become present for my daughter. We take a walk around the lake, giving her the opportunity to de-brief.

Thankfully, when I get home, Nathan has cooked dinner, and does an excellent job! I fall into bed, non compos mentis.

Day 3:
AM - Aston is still not 100%. Laura is exhausted from the camp, and M decides he is going to have a sick day, and Mum decides that as Laura and M are going to be home, she is going out for the day. All these things through my new morning routine out the window. I some how manage to get to work in time, anxious, but able to leave it behind. I finish at 2pm today, come home, and fall into bed for an hour, and sleep like the dead.

PM - As I'm putting Aston to bed at 7.30pm, all I want to do is put myself to bed as well. Laura is working tonight and doesn't finish until 10pm. I inwardly curse, and declare that she had better get her bloody Ps soon! Aston discovers he has a very wiggly tooth. His first! He is very excited, then gets worried about swallowing it, because then how will the tooth fairy find it? I assure him that it will be OK, it will travel out his body, and come out when he goes to the toilet. He responds "but then her wings will get wet!" God I love that kid.

Day 4:
AM - I'm not starting work until 1pm today, but its Laura's Leadership induction at school this morning. It's also Aston's first time at after school care. I calculate that I won't have time to drop Aston off at school, take Laura to school, stay for induction, come home, get changed and go to work. Make a plan to get ready for work, get Laura to take Aston into school, while I wait in the drop off zone, then drive to Laura's school for the induction. Aston protests loudly this morning, with lots of "I'm not going!!" and "Why do you have to work?"

PM - I ring after school care to make sure he has arrived safely and settled in. When I pick him up, he has lot to tell me, and has a good time. I breathe a sigh of relief, drive home, pack his bag, and hop back into the car to make the 40 minute journey to drop off as he is going to his father's for the weekend.

Day 5:
AM- I volunteered to work Saturdays as M usually works on Saturdays for at least half the day. Today, he isn't working, and he has forgotten that I am. Seeing as how we don't get much time alone together these days, he is disappointed that I'm going to work, and even more disappointed when he finds out I'm not finishing until 5.30!

PM - By the time I get home I'm shattered. M is making dinner, but I need to sleep. I lay down for an hour and half, and fall deeply asleep.

Waking up on Sunday and not having to go anywhere or do anything was blissful. I have survived the week. Just.

My respect for working mothers everywhere is raised higher then ever, and I text several friends asking them how the hell they have been doing this all these years?!

Even though I am tired beyond belief, I am loving being back at work. I get to talk to people all day, who are looking for things to make art and craft or solutions, and ideas for creating. My unique skill set, and the recognition that I have a unique skill set, has been invaluable. It seems I know far more then I realised. My experiences working in admin, being a full time mother, studying education, being creative have given me a wealth of information that I hadn't previously given the recognition and value that it deserved.

Its not all beer and skittles. The adjustment for the kids that I'm not going to be there at the their beck and call has been interesting, and challenging. Time management is paramount. As is sharing the load, and asking for help. Four weeks in we are all starting to adjust, and make changes.

Are you a working mum? Any suggestions/ideas/advice on the juggle would be greatly appreciated.

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I added another "hat" to my wardrobe.

When I fell pregnant with my first child in 1995, I was the Supervisor of Operations, Financial Services, St. George Bank. I even had a business card, and an office. My first. I loved my job. I had started at St. George when I was 20, as a teller, and then moved to head office, working as a administration clerk in first the Visa department, then the Financial Services Department. I quickly worked through the ranks - first 2-i-c, then Supervisor.

Falling pregnant wasn't in "the plan". I was on the "career path", not the motherhood path. OK, yes I know, its possible to have both. But this is my story. OK?

When I gave birth to Laura, all thoughts about career very literally fell out of my head, as I fell in love with this amazing gift I had been given. So when I was promoted to Manager of the department while I was on maternity leave, with a healthy pay rise, I was surprised, and thankful, but my internal dialogue was going "thank you very much, I'm incredibly honoured that you think I'm capable, but yeah - that career path I was on... well, its not the path I want anymore".

But me, being me, knew that I needed to experience first hand if that was really the case, and even though my gut was screaming "Abort Will Robertson", I cut my maternity leave short to 4 months, left Laura home with her father (who was still trying to figure out what he wanted to do when he grew up, so he left work to look after her) and returned to the "career path". For 8 weeks, in between meetings - oh the fucking endless meetings, staff training sessions, and my own management training workshops, I sat in the women's toilets and pumped two 240 ml feeds into bottles while holding a picture of my baby girl. I still have the milk spattered photo.

For 7 months, I came home each night, exhausted beyond belief, and cried, while her father made empty promises of bringing her into work more often. A month before Laura turned one, I handed in my resignation, with a months notice, came home and told him that he had to find a job.

On Laura's first birthday I began my journey as a full time stay at home mum. That's the job I did for the next 8 years. When Laura was 8, and Nathan 5, I worked part-time for an artist and his wife at their gallery as their PA for two years. The beauty of this job was not only was I surrounded by beautiful pieces of art, it was always during school hours. This meant that Laura and Nathan were never affected by me being at work. They were at school, and where unaffected by what I was doing, well, lets be honest, as far as they were concerned, out of sight, out of mind!

Europe, and all it had to offer, beckoned my employers, which meant unfortunately for me, I was out of a job. Fast forward 8 years and another child to February this year.

Since moving to Brisbane from the Sunshine Coast, I have been looking for work. I naively thought it wouldn't be a problem. While it has made life a little difficult not having work, it was good in the respect that it allowed me to be available for my kids as we all settled into living in suburbia.

In November last year I happened to be in an Art and Craft supply shop (my candy shop!), and overheard that they were looking for employees. I dropped my resume in, and ... well heard nothing. The manager I had given it to had apparently left the next day. I was somewhat disheartened, and more then a little disillusioned. I was already spiralling into the hole, this was just another thing to push me down there.

After Christmas I popped into my candy shop to pick up some paper, and decided to go out on a limb and ask what had happened to my resume. Serendipity stepped in. It turned out the the lovely lady I was talking to, was the new manager. Two weeks later, she rang me and asked if I was still interested in a job. Abso-friggin-lutely!!!

The floor at where I work. Pretty cool hey?

 

 



I've added another hat to my already bulging wardrobe of hats: cook, cleaner, mediator, taxi driver, healer, counsellor, partner, mother, artist, etc etc etc. This one has employee on it. I very luckily landed a permanent part time position, and started in February.  (Which is why its been rather quiet in here of late.)



To say the least, it has been very interesting times in my house, as we all adjust to this new regime. I guess the saying is true. The only thing that is constant, is change.

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Degrees of Death

 

 

 

 

This morning my mother informed me that her close friend, who has been battling Cancer for the last six months, had died in the early hours of the morning. Her husband and two daughters were with her when she exited this world, and was finally free of the intense pain she had been in for the last month.

 

My mum and I have had many conversations about her friend, and what her wishes are if she finds herself in a similar situation. I'm thankful that my mother's friends illness provided the opportunity for us to be able to have such conversations, and I now know exactly what my mother wants.

 

I stood and listened as my mum spoke about her friend, the memories she has of her, the experiences they had shared, and how she was feeling. I was glad that I was able to be there beside her as she processed her friend's passing.

 

I went to tell Laura, but before I was able to she exclaimed that J was dead. J is a young man of 19, who Laura, Nathan and I have known since he was 12, meeting him not longer after we moved into  the Noosa Hinterland. Nathan is very good friends with J's younger brother, having played soccer with him since they were six, and spent many days and nights at their house. Laura went to school with J, socialised with him as he was part of her circle of friends when she lived on the Coast. I have had many conversations with his mother about the perils, and pleasures, of raising teens.

 

There was also another young man involved - C, someone else we all know, and have known for several years. He is in a stable condition, but requires surgery, skin grafts and God knows what else. Both young men, larger then life, with enormous hearts.

 

My head is reeling with a cacophony of emotions. Shock. Confusion. Struggling to make sense of the degrees of death... One death arrived slowly, painfully, over six months, claiming a woman in the winter of her life. The other so quickly, so unexpectedly, taking someone in the midst of their spring...

 

I watch and listen to my own children process similar feelings, different yet the same, felt through their own limited lenses of the world. I reach to comfort my daughter. She pushes me away. "Don't" ... I worry for my son. The need to see him right now is intense.

 

I can only begin to imagine what J and C's parents are feeling right now. Thinking about it makes my breath catch in my throat, my heart clench tight.

 

The gossamer fine thread that is life ... so strong, yet so fragile at the same time. How can that be?

 

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He screamed, She screamed, I screamed, We all screamed

 

 

 

 

The baby screamed from where he lay in his cot. The three year old screamed and banged on the bathroom door. And I sat on the floor on the other side of the bathroom door, sobbing. This is not how it is supposed to be. What is wrong with me?

 

I faintly heard the knocking at the door through Nathan's screaming. Laura had gone to the door, and come back to the closed bathroom door to tell me that Deanna, my next door neighbour, was here. Great.

 

I looked in the mirror, and a stranger stared back at me. There was no point trying to hide the puffy eyes, she had obviously heard all the screaming. No point denying that it was all fun and fairy floss at my house! I opened the bathroom door and Laura's scared and confused little face peered up at me. I could see it in her eyes, Where's my mummy gone?

 

I grabbed the hic-coughing Nathan out of the cot. Hot white shame washed over me with each step I took to the front door.

 

Are you OK? She asked through the screen door. No, I replied, but it's OK. Martin will be home soon. Just having a bad day. Her look of concern cut through me like a knife. Don't pity me. Don't pity me. Don't pity me, played through my head on repeat. I could see what she saw as she stood there looking at me. bedraggled mumma, with baby on her hip, that was crying that quiet little cry that they do when they have been crying for so long there is no longer any sound - you know the one, intake of shuddering breath, sniff - Toddler wrapped around her leg, with a look of utter bewilderment on her face.

 

This was so far away from my first experience of motherhood. This wasn't motherhood. This was a nightmare that never stopped.

 

She reluctantly left, after I assured her repeatedly that I was OK, that Martin was going to be home soon, that it was just a bad day. I closed the door,and heavily leaned against it. I can't do this anymore. I don't want to do this anymore. Make it stop.

 

Nathan had fallen asleep against me. Exhausted. I lay him down on the Laura's little fold out lounge, and put the ABC kids shows on for Laura. When Laura was born my best friend, who was learning to be a midwife, had given me a book written by a mother after her child was born. It talked about all the changes and feelings she'd experienced. I had only glanced at it after Laura was born. I hadn't needed it. Life after Laura had been idyllic. Life after Nathan was anything but.

 

While Nathan slept, and Laura watched TV, I went to the bookshelf and searched for the book. I flicked to the index and scanned the pages, anxiously seeking ... something. An explanation? An answer? I don't know. Just.. anything. I found what I was looking for Post Partum Depression, Post Natal Depression. I read each reference, including the long list of symptoms, and for the first time in 8 months since Nathan was born, everything became blindingly clear.

 

No wonder my reasoning of once my mother in law goes home everything will be alright, once Christmas is over everything will be, once the christening is over everything will, once Nathan starts eating solids everything, once he starts sleeping through the night, once I had finished this assignment, once this, once that.... was amounting to fuck all. I was so far away from OK, that I didn't even know what OK looked like.

 

Standing there hissing at Nathan to just go the fuck to sleep, and then standing in my back yard crying so I had removed myself away from him was not what OK looked like.

 

Walking around the block with gritted teeth and clenched fists the minute Martin got home from work was not what OK looked like.

 

Hissing for fucks sake more times then I care to remember as I heaved this lump of a crying child on to my hip because I had dared to put him down for two seconds and had left his field of vision was not what OK looked like.

 

Snapping my beautiful girl's head off because she had asked me to play with her was not what OK looked like.

 

Dreaming of getting in the car and driving away - anywhere but where I was - was not what OK looked like.

 

I had isolated myself from people, everything was too hard. It was too hard to have people around, and too hard to go and visit people. It was too hard to do anything. It was too hard to even breathe.

 

I made an appointment with my GP for the next day, and with my own self diagnosis in hand went and saw her. And cried. She agreed that it was Post Natal Depression and prescribed an anti-depressant that had been approved by the World Health Organisation as safe to have while breast feeding, but did suggest I attempt weaning Nathan. Nathan wasn't up for that suggestion, and when I went back two weeks later for follow up she advised me to leave it. The stress of trying to wean him was not worth it.

 

 

 the picture I held until I met my son

 

 

 

A month after I started on the anti-depressants I started to feel better. The world that had all its colour leached out, started to return to its full techni-colour glory. I could feel the sunshine, and my soul didn't feel as black and hollow. A couple of months after starting medication, I remember taking Nathan for a walk in the pram along the river. It was a gorgeous late winter's morning, one filled with the promise of spring. He fell asleep, and I sat in the shade writing out a list of all the things that I had felt contributed to me ending up the black hole of PND, and then worked out which ones I could actually do something about.

 

 

 

holding Nathan for the first time

 

 

 

There weren't a lot that I could change. Most of the things were circumstantial. I couldn't change him arriving early, or me not seeing or holding him for ten hours after he was born. I couldn't change not seeing Laura meet her little brother for the first time. I couldn't change getting an infection in my Cesarean section site, or mastitis. Or the myriad of other things that happened. But I could defer uni, I could put him into day care one day a week, I could start exercising, I could start looking after me without feeling guilty and I could accept and let go of the things I couldn't change.

 

I remember so clearly how I felt that day. Relief. And hope. Relief that I was going to be OK. Hope that I was going to be OK.

 

Hindsight - the ability to understand, after something has happened, what should have been done or what caused the event - enabled me to be able to take action when I was pregnant with Aston. I knew while I was pregnant with him that I was suffering from depression. I chose not to take medication while I was pregnant, but started 3 months after he was born. I also started counselling. If there was one thing I would do differently during my experience of PND with Nathan, it would be that. I would go to counselling. I wish that my doctor had recommended it, and that I'd gone. In my opinion medication isn't enough.While anti-depressant medication will get you to a place where you no longer feel like you're going to drown, I believe that it is the combination of both medication and counselling of some sort that will be of the greatest benefit.

 

 

Look at my eyes - they tell the story

 

I have written this post as part of PANDA (Post Ante Natal Depression Assoc.) Postnatal Depression Awareness Week. I truly believe that information is empowering, and that sharing our stories helps to reduce the stigma associated with mental illness. The feelings of isolation and shame are greatly lifted when you know you are not alone. That you are not the only person feeling this way. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

 

PND is not limited to women. 1 in 7 Mums and 1 in 20 Dads are diagnosed with postnatal depression each year. If you, or someone you know, is experiencing any of the following, I strongly encourage you to reach out. PANDA NATIONAL HELPLINE: 1300 726 306

 

1. Signs and symptoms of postnatal depression - general

Symptoms can begin anywhere from 24 hours to several months after delivery

·Sleep disturbance unrelated to baby’s sleep

·Changes in appetite

·Crying - feeling sad and crying without apparent reason OR feeling like you want to cry but can’t

·Feelings of being overwhelmed, out of control, unable to cope

·Irritability

·Anxiety

·Negative obsessive thoughts

·Fear of being alone OR withdrawing from family and friends

·Memory difficulties and loss of concentration

·Feeling guilty and inadequate

·Loss of confidence and self-esteem

 

 

2. Signs and symptoms of postnatal depression - men

Symptoms can begin anywhere from 24 hours to several months after delivery

·Tiredness, headaches and pain

·Irritability, anxiety and anger

·Loss of libido

·Changes in appetite

·Feelings of being overwhelmed, out of control and unable to cope

·Engaging in risk taking behaviour

·Feelings of isolation and disconnection from partner, friends or family

·Withdrawal from intimate relationships and from family, friends and community life

·Increased hours of work as a part of the withdrawal from family etc.

·Increased use of drugs or alcohol instead of seeking treatment for depression



For more information and resources visit the PANDA site.

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Circuses and Africa

In the last week of the school holidays we were accosted approached by someone who was signing up people for Karate in the local area. As we had already discussed it with Nathan about him wanting to do it again, I decided to take up the opportunity and trial period offer.

This is how my afternoon/evening went last night...

Picked up Aston from his new school, were he was full of excitement about having a "buddy" in year 6. He then declared to me that he was big enough to walk to school by himself because he was "brave". Nathan, who goes to the high school in the other direction had started the walk home, and I was meeting him to pick him up.

Nathan gets in the car, annoyed that I didn't have his new bike to take to the bike shop to get serviced. Unfortunately, I can not lift anything at the moment without it hurting both my back and my elbow. While he understands this, he is 14, and well, everything is about him. We got home, and he tried to fit his huge bike into my tiny hatchback, unsuccessfully. Cue cranky face.

My two boys are always in a constant start of starvation - because - you know, I never feed them or anything! They both proceeded to vacuum up a bowl of ice cream, all the while Aston is demanding that he go and visit his friend from school who lives only several houses away. Nat let his cranky face go, and he and Aston scooted over to said friend.

M and Laura arrive home at 4.30, as I'm about to put corned beef in the pot to cook. Then I suddenly remember Nathan has Karate tonight at 5.15, and we were told to get there 20 minutes early for the first lesson. Ring Nathan, tell him to come home. Cue Aston cranky face. "Why did we have to come home? I didn't get to play with my friend!"

Absolutely winning here aren't I?

Grab the karate folder, and the information that we were told is different to the sheet in the folder, so I ring the sensei to confirm that karate is on tonight. Drive down to the address. There is no-one there. Empty community centre. Not a sensei, or sign in sight. Call Sensei again.... "um, so where are you, because I'm standing outside the community centre and there is no one here..." "oh, you have the wrong information, we are at this community centre now." Great. Because, you know, I know this area like the back of my hand- NOT!! Sensei gives me the address, and I attempt to put it into my GPS on my phone, which decides at that precise moment not to work. (Anxiety is ramping up, and I'm thinking What the fuck did I sign up for???) Turn phone off and on, because that is the standby fix it solution for any kind of electrical equipment right? Phone decides to behave itself, and point me in the right direction, in its dulcet tones, with me telling it to fuck off every 5 seconds.

Mean while, the 20 minutes that we were supposed to get there before hand has now decreased to 5 minutes before the lesson starts. We eventually find the place, and can see the lesson has started, and attempt to get into the community centre - unsuccessfully. Nathan looks at me and says, "lets just start next week mum." I'd be lying if I wasn't tempted to get back into my car and go with it. We found an entry that wasn't locked into the community centre, and the sensei approached and directed Nat into the lesson, looking at how frazzled I was, assured me that they had only just started.

I sat down, and breathed. OK. Made it. Oh shit, didn't ask Laura to get the vegetables for dinner ready. Flick off a text to her. OK. Now I can breathe....

Lesson finishes an hour later, and Nat is keen to continue. So it hasn't been a wasted trip, or $65. We drive home, without getting lost. I pull up into the driveway, and Laura is at the car door before I have even opened it, literally jumping up and down, "Mum, can you sponsor me to go to Africa in 2014?"

"Um... hello Laura."

Walk inside, and Nathan and Aston proceed to karate chop each other up, Laura is jumping up and down excitedly showing me this website she has found, and she just has to go, and it will be fantastic, and please, please, please can you sponsor me..... M is mashing potatoes, laughing. And I'm trying to breathe again.

My house is a circus between the hours of 3pm and 8pm. I swear I run on pure adrenaline. Half the time I'm not even thinking, I'm just doing.

Now that it's a new day, and all the kids are at school I have sat down and had a look at "Laura's Please I must go to Africa Trip". And are blown away. Laura wants to do something in the field of medicine. What exactly, changes on a fairly regular basis, but the field of medicine is always constant. She is planning to have a gap year before going to uni, and this is what she found, and so desperately wants to do. Gap Medics offers students who wish to pursue a career in medicine the opportunity to gain "a genuine insight into the work of doctors and nurses in Africa, India, Thailand and the Caribbean".

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Right now her chosen medical career path is in midwifery. I'm pretty sure it was reading the following that light her fire:

Placements are ideal for students aged 16 and over and are popular with undergraduate nursing or midwifery students as well as those in Year 12/13 or taking a gap year. Good supervision is crucial, and you’ll be assigned a specific midwife or nurse as your personal mentor for the duration of the placement.

Unfortunately we can’t predict exactly when and where babies are going to be born(!) but the maternity departments we work with are generally busy and you are likely to observe several deliveries in a typical week. You’ll also have a good chance of seeing Caesarean sections, as home births are common in the developing world so those that come to hospital are often do so because of complications.

When you are not attending deliveries, your time will usually be divided between shadowing staff and helping on the antenatal and postnatal wards, and or neonatal intensive care.
Most students join us for two weeks, but our placements are available from one week to a month or more. As long as we have space on the programme, you can start and finish whenever you want, 52 weeks of the year. If you’re interested in midwifery, but not yet 100% sure that’s the career for you, we’re happy to arrange a combined midwifery and nursing placement that allows you to experience other hospital departments as well.

Undertaking hospital work experience abroad not only allows you to experience the effect of local conditions (such as malaria) on maternity care, it helps you to appreciate the diversity in healthcare provision around the world and see first hand the ethical dilemmas midwives in these countries face every day. It also – of course – turns a couple of weeks’ work experience into the adventure of a lifetime!

So between now and Jan 2014 we are on a mission to find sponsorship for her to partake in the adventure of a lifetime. For me, Laura's excitement and enthusiasm is the most beautiful illustration of why I am a mum. And why between the hours of 3 and 8 pm my house is a circus!

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little things....

1. I named my daughter Laura after Laura Ingalls in Little house in the prairie. Her name also means Laural Tree. There is a myth surrounding the laurel tree. Daphne, a nymph was turned into the laurel tree to protect her from Apollo's sexual advances.

2. If Nathan had have been a girl, I would have named her Natasha. He was born 4 weeks early by emergency Cesarean, and I didn't hold him for ten hours after he was born. His name mean God's gift.

3. Aston is called Aston after Aston villa, the English football team. No I'm not a mad football supporter, yes, his father is. However, I agreed, because I think its a strong boy's name. NOT because his father loves the team! His name means home.

4. Laura and Aston are the most alike in temperament. Loud, demanding, at times challenging. Nathan is my SNAG - Sensitive New Age Guy.

5. All three of my children have taught me different lessons - Laura, what unconditional love really means, Nathan, that its OK to play and pretend, and Aston, how to feel joy after extreme heart ache.


6. My children keep me anchored to the earth. Without them I would have given up a long time ago.

7. I have put my heart and soul into being a mother - sometimes to my detriment.


8. sometimes I like to take my mother hat off, and party like its 1999

9. my children bring me joy, exhaust me, teach me, delight me, terrify me, make me laugh, cry, and everything in between.


10. I wouldn't change a thing.

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river of tears

anger pulses through me ...
white hot heat...
it masks the deep sadness that hurts my heart...
anger fuels me to action,
to do what needs to be done,
keep the sadness at bay...

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if you peel back the anger,
let the sadness out,
I'll drown in a river of my own tears,
like Alice in wonderland,
just looking to get home.

I swim to the shore,
feel the sun on my face,
dry out, renewed...
My grace restored,
I will not let it be destroyed.
..the sadness remains
like a lonely child inside my soul,
to cry another river for another day.

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Second guessing and the sweet spot

I went to a party on Saturday night (which happened to be brilliant - haven't done an all nighter in a very long time) where the only person I knew was M. It was an engagement party for one of his friends, and a gathering of people that hadn't seen each other in a while. Lots of conversation and catching up and laughs.

I got asked three questions A LOT. "How long have you and M been seeing each other?" (which was quickly followed by, "and we are only meeting you NOW?") "Are you and M going to have any kids?" and this one - "What do you do?"

My response of "I am full time mum" was for the most part followed with another question - "What did you do before?" I worked in a bank for fuck's sake. It was incredibly important. I was a manager in the financial services division, responsible for 20 other staff, and ensuring that people's superannuation and investments didn't get fucked up. (No I didn't actually say this, but I must admit when I got asked this question for the second time it was the dialogue going on in my head.)

Not everyone dismissed the last 16 years of my life by wanting to know what I did before I started the job of growing small human beings into big ones. I had some lovely conversations with a couple of people about my job as a mother, and who were quite happy to look at pictures of my greatest achievements.

I'm fairly certain that the people who asked "What did you do before?" weren't intentionally overlooking what I am doing right now. It was a question made automatically because mothering doesn't make money.  Thankfully, I'm evolved enough after 16 years to not let that question take away how I feel about making the choice to mother full time. It did annoy me - but more as an interesting sociological kind of observation.

Is it any surprise then that so many of us mothers feel so undervalued at what we do? 95% of the time I second guess everything I do as a mother. Which leaves only 5% where I feel like I hit the sweet spot, just like a tennis player does when they hit that ball and it does exactly what they want it to do. It seems, that in general society really doesn't value mothering as a job. What a shame. Because personally I think that while its the hardest job in the world, its the one that deserves the most recognition and admiration.


Next time you meet someone new and ask THAT question, listen to what they are doing NOW, don't be so quick to want to know what they were doing BEFORE. Its what they are doing now that is important.

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