Where was I? Oh yes, Emily was born with Erbs Palsy and I was feeling guilty. Because everything was my fault.
I did what I thought I should and attended the baby groups as it was the right thing for my daughter. Apparently, there’s always the need to have bonds with other mummy’s and I agree with this if they are people you’d want to spend time with outside of mummyhood. I didn’t attend national childbirth trust (N.C.T) or have any friends who had recently had babies so I was swimming alone. And I only have a 25m badge at the best of times!
People who know me, know that I don’t sugar coat anything. I am black and white with no shades of grey. And mostly, I believe what people say, why would they lie? These baby groups had me on my knees, I felt useless! Perfect feeding, perfect routines, perfectly polished! Me on the other hand rarely slept (it’s currently 02:57 – history isn’t repeating itself but because I’m so emotionally involved in this post I have to keep stopping to catch my breath and have a cuppa and compose), my diet was poor, I saw myself as a bad mother.
I seemingly hid this so well from not only my family but myself (but not my best friend). The post natal depression questionnaire presented to me by my health visitor asks;
- During the past month, have you often been bothered by feeling down, depressed or hopeless?
- During the past month, have you often taken little or no pleasure in doing things that normally make you happy?
I answered ‘no’ with tears welling in my eyes but the health visitor didn’t push me on it, it seemed a form filling exercise. Now I realise that by admitting I had PND was akin to admitting failure and who wants to embrace failure? I kick myself now for not being brave enough to put my hand up and say, please can I have some help. But then, how could I ask? I couldn’t even fill the form in.
The words were three words that existed in other people’s lives, not mine. I was a strong woman, a woman who would give up my life for anyone, a woman who hated to be labelled. However, throughout my past, when things got tough, I always hid away and throughout 2010 and 2011, I did this a lot.
I muddled through the first year in a haze of pea soup and escaping wherever I could. I went back to work as a H&S officer when Emily was 10 months old and before that, I often put work and blogging first before my family. It was the place I escaped to when I couldn’t face the real world. The world I created.
I started to see light around Emily’s first birthday, then BOOM one of the shining lights of my world my Uncle Bill died (24.03.2011). He was such a non-judgemental person, but I hadn’t even shared my pain with him as he had suffered a stroke and was trying to mend himself. Another year of fuzz and a redundancy, I simply didn’t feel like me and hid behind a broken smile.
The feeling of uselessness only seemed to get greater but then one day, and for no real reason, the fog seemed to lift and I saw light.
Still I certainly wasn’t ready for baby two. What if it happened again? Potentially losing another two years or even more to PND? When we became pregnant, I told EVERY health professional that would listen about my undiagnosed episode.
What I do find strange is, even through I readily passed this information on and told my current health visitor the PND form was useless, I have received absolutely NO monitoring at all. In fact, I’ve just realised the severity of this; I actually think in this regard that as a health trust they have failed me.
Thankfully, even though Luke came at 35 weeks I don’t believe I have PND this time. (Nothing is easy; my waters broke, I suffered a prolapsed umbilical cord, was rushed from home to hospital for an emergency c section and 59 minutes later, Luke arrived!).
My life revolves around this new tiny creature and instead of being scared, he is teaching me how to be a better mummy to both him and his big sister. I don’t put my computer on and create posts if he wants me I am his 100 percent. Hmm, sometimes around 95 percent, as I may tweet whilst he’s in my arms.!
I am giving him the mother that Emily deserved but didn’t get (I was a good mum to Emily but I think part of me blamed her for my lady bits NEVER being the same again, even though I know she was absolutely not to blame).
Whilst I have been writing this, I have fed Luke and also been shouted for by Emily who needed the toilet. When I held her hand and guided her back to bed, she asked me to stay with her and stroke her hand and watch her sleep. At that moment I felt so very, very lucky and privileged.
Now it’s time to sleep.
Hold up! The reason I wrote these posts was to say that 2015 was going to be the year of me. Now, it’s going to be 2016. So there! Project 4.1 (stands for my 41st year) starts now. No sports car, but a wedding and a trip to NYC are on the cards. I’m looking at health, fitness, sleep, mental health and finance.
Project 4.1 – 42lb to go!
Suzanne x mummy of two and master of me.
If you’d like to be part of Project 4.1 please pop your details below. [contact-form]