Being Mum

I read an article earlier today, and she said 'I didn't expect for my heart, who for so long desired to be a mother, to feel constantly divided into two pieces. One piece devoted to my children and the kind of mother I want to be; the other part constantly wanting to find that woman that I was before I became "mom".' this hit me like a punch to the gut. I have been struggling with this a lot this week. Those who know me well know that I am usually a pretty fierce 'give no fucks' kinda girl. Staunchly body positive, proud of being me. This week I have not felt this at all.

I've been hating on my post partum body. My boobs are larger, and more sagging. The shape of my belly is forever changed, and I am not used to its new shape yet. I feel frumpy. I haven't been able to wear 95% of my wardrobe because none of it accommodates breastfeeding. So, I've been living in clothing that isn't me. I don't feel like me. I'm used to feeling fierce and positive because I'm used to looking that way. Knowing that what I had on fit well, looked good, and was ME.

Also, my body isn't my own anymore. I spend at least 22 hours a day sharing it with my offspring. Even now as I write this she is curled into me, her whole tiny little body pressed tightly into mine, sweetly sleeping. I have never craved time on my own more. Which brings up a whole other range of guilty feelings.

So, after having a cry in the (rare) shower, I decided to consult my person. She reminded me that it takes a village. That it's ok to demand help from my village. That it's ok to get exasperated and feeling overwhelmed sometimes. That I am allowed to find this hard. Because babies are hard. They take absolutely everything. And parenting is hard. She reminded me that 'good' parenting isn't made up of one 'good' moment and that one 'bad' moment doesn't make me a 'bad' parent. That experiencing the bad moments will help me learn and grow and be a better mother.

Asking for help is not an admittance of failure. It is a sign of strength. It is strong to recognise you need help and strong to ask for it. It is hard to navigate this new role. I am still finding out how being 'me' and being 'mum' fit together. And thats ok. I've only been 'mum' for 10 months. So while I may feel a bit of 'me' is lost, being 'mum' filled in a space I didn't even know was empty. Swelled my heart to a size I didn't know existed.

Good Enough

I wrote a post with almost an identical title for The Icing On My Cupcake (you can read it here) but I keep having to remind myself lately.

I have been firmly in the 'Good Enough' camp for a long time. If you do a large variety of things well enough, you'll be fine. I don't strive for perfection. I don't think it exists. I aim to be firmly good enough. A good enough mother, wife, person. Some days you Slay it. Shit gets done. You feel like a badass. FUCK YES, CONSIDER THAT DAY OWNED!

But, other days it's 'WHEN WILL THIS PILE OF POO OF A DAY ENNNDDDDDDD.'

Lately, I've been having the latter. Tilly decided to get 4 teeth at once. And a cold. Kransky has decided to forget he is toilet trained. And my skeleton feels like it's trying to escape my body. I feel like I have been extra complainy. Extra needy. Not enough.

But then I remind myself that I have had a grand total of about 10 hours away from my baby in 10 months. That's not a lot. I'm allowed to feel burnt out by that. I have to remind myself that not only am I raising a child, I'm running a business and studying full time. That actually, what I am doing is exactly enough.

It's ok if it gets to dinner time and all you can manage to do it order a pizza online. It's ok if you zoned out for 10 minutes while your child was happily playing with her toys. It's ok if you just want to run away and enjoy a quite coffee on your own with no one touching you.

So I am writing this to remind myself that I am enough. What I do is enough. I am loved, I am happy, I am well, and that is enough.

How Do They Know?!?!

Matilda has this thing, she is super duper sound asleep right up until I make it to the doorway of the bedroom and have my hand on the door handle, preparing to inch it softly closed. Right at this very moment, her eyes fling open as if she was never asleep to begin with. HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME MOTHER??!!??!?!!

HOW DOES SHE KNOW??! Like, I get it. Babies have super smell and super sense and can sense my heartbeat, and smell my smell, and my milk and all that, but, but but, she lets me leave the bed. Creep all the way to the door, in a carefully planned out route so as not to step on any squeaky floorboards, step through the door, place my hand on the handle then, BAM!

My mother tells me I used to do the exact same thing. It appears my mini me, really is a super little version of exactly me. FUCK YEAH!

The Worst Mother Alive.

I currently feel like the worst mother that ever lived. The last two days I've injured my daughter.

Yesterday she fell backwards and whacked her head on the laundry floor. I was rinsing a poop nappy and wasn't paying enough attention. I cried when she cried. And just when I had gotten over that guilt today happened.

We went to the river. I made sure I packed her hat and suncream and sunglasses. We got there, I put her hat on and then covered her arms, hands, legs, feet and face with cream. Only it didn't work. She is sunburnt.

I bought this Natural suncream and its clearly shit. Her arms and hands and legs are all burnt. Thankfully her face was covered by her hat. So fuck using natural stuff. Never again. I'm only slathering her in my super strength I'm allergic to the Sun cream. Nothing gets through that.

I currently feel like the worst mother alive. Who let's their baby get burnt? Urgh.

Always Trust Your Gut

So, I've suspected for a while that Matilda has an upper lip tie. I dismissed the idea that she did, because she was checked by a Midwife in the hospital when we were having latching issues on the second night. But then, I was looking closely at an inforgraphic of what it looks like when babies were latched correctly. Matilda's bottom lip looked perfect, her top lip looked like an accordion. And she always has a sucking callous.

Still, I thought, no, she was checked. Or surely, the two lactation consultants we saw would have picked it up. That's what these people are supposed to do. But, me being me, I researched further.

All her symptoms can be caused by ties. I looked at pictures, comparing them to Tilly. Yep, that certainly looks like a tie. Shit. Think back to the hospital...the midwife (the only midwife I had a problem with during our whole stay) checked her. But, it was in the dark, with a torch, in the middle of the night. Did she check her lip? Or just her tongue? I can't remember. It was our second night, Tilly had only really just started to want to feed. She said there was no tie, so I believed it, why wouldn't I? (I don't blame these people. I've discovered that hardly anyone is trained to pick up ties, or if they are, they are not treated as seriously as they actually are, as in, if the baby is latching, feeding and gaining weight then there is no problem. Which actually isn't true. All ties are serious. All ties need to be released.)

We had lots of latching issues. I was in pain. I would cry out and feed her with tears rolling down my cheeks. We saw a lactation consultant at the hospital. She watched Tilly feed and deduced that I wasn't lining her up to my nipple properly. We practiced. It got better. The pain went away. Tilly started gaining weight (she lost a lot. Well over 10%) When we went back for our follow up they were happy. And that was that.

I knew deep down that something wasn't right. Mothers intuition if you will. I knew she wouldn't just scream for no reason. I knew that she could probably go longer than an hour without feeding. That she shouldn't get so tired when feeding. That, she was above average at birth, but only tracking very average for weight gain now. It all pointed to ties. Then, I voiced my concerns. I don't think anyone really believed that it could be true. But, I had to get her checked. I made an appointment with a dentist who specializes in ties. If nothing comes of it, then great, I was wrong, and she is fine. Phew. But I knew that it wasn't fine.

Just as I suspected. An upper lip tie. A quite severe one. And with lip ties almost always come tongue ties. Tilly has a posterior tongue tie. This means that she can poke her tongue out, but she can't move it effectively, so she actually isn't sucking as effectively as she could. This is why she needs to feed so often, and because of the lip tie, she isn't getting a proper seal, and it taking in lots of air, hence all her wind issues.

Cue the Mum guilt. All her suffering could have been avoided if it had been picked up earlier. I dismissed it, she was checked, they didn't find a tie, she doesn't have a tie.

We got home on Thursday after her appointment, and I put her to sleep and I cried. I cried with guilt and I cried with relief. Hopefully when they are release in 3 weeks she won't be so uncomfortable. We don't have an easy time ahead. There is a lot of body work involved to make sure they don't grow back, also, once they're released lots of muscles that have been compensating will relax. She will effectively need to relearn how to feed. This could mean more pain for me, and frustration for her. But, ultimately, she will be so much better off.

I think people were shocked that I was actually right. That maybe they thought I was just overreacting, but I didn't let that stop me. I followed my instincts. Don't ever dismiss your gut feeling. Your gut is like a second brain, if you feel something in you gut (and you aren't hungry, lol) it's probably wise to follow it.

So now, I'm anxiously awaiting the day of her release. I'm shitting myself, because I'll have to hear her scream. But, it will be over swiftly, and she will be all the better for it, but if I could bare that pain for her, I would do it in a heartbeat. My love for her is fierce.

And on that note, I can see her stirring on the monitor. Her little arms reaching out to find me, and I'm not there. I will go and lie next to her, and she will tuck into me, feeling safe and secure and loved.

Self Care: As Simple As A Shower.

I'm a big advocate for self care. It's important. It's even more important when you've  had a baby. All of a sudden your whole life is about someone else. If you're breastfeeding you've usually got your little human attached to you for a good portion of the day. I get super touched out. And because we bed share, some days I don't even get a break then. She has actually changed a lot in the last few weeks in regards to sleep, in that she doesnt want or need to be attached to me all night anymore.

But, back to self care. Mondays have become my self care day. It's not something we really spoke about, it just happened. And it's wonderful.

I strap Tilly to Jesse and they go off for a walk and I get to do whatever I want. The last few weeks it's been study because I have assessments due, but im done with my written, so today I showered.

Showering is something you take for granted before kids. Ask any mum with young kids how often she showers and I bet you she doesn't answer 'everyday' it just doesn't happen. So when it does, it's glorious.

Today I showered. A long hot shower. By myself. With noone watching. Without having to sing nursery rhymes for the duration. Bliss! I washed my hair! I shaved my legs! I exfoliated! Then I blow dried my hair! And I moisturised from top to bottom! I tell you, I feel amazing.

And thats how simple self care can be. As simple as a long hot shower.

So, if any Dads, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends are reading this, go ask a mum if they would like you to take the baby for a walk so they can have a shower and wash their hair. I bet they say yes.

The Days Are Long But The Years Are Short

That old saying 'The days are long by the years are short' is so fucking true. You just kind of nod your head when you hear it 'yeah, yeah, whatever' but it's true. Oh it's so very true.

Now that the '100 days of darkness' is passed its truer than ever. When you are in that, when you haven't slept more than 2 straight hours in weeks, and your baby is attached to you more hours than she isn't, and day and night mean nothing, you are praying to everything that it will just be over. When you are pacing the hall up and down, up and down, up and down, for hours because your baby won't stop crying, or needs to fart, you are wishing those hours away. But, now that she has hit 6 months, and she is starting to eat proper food, and reaches for things that she wants, or imitates you, or trying so hard to crawl, you are wishing that time would stop, that she wouldn't grow up so quickly, because blink and you will miss it.

It amazes me how fast babies change. I mean, I knew they grew and learnt a lot in their first year, but absolutely nothing prepared me. She does things today that she couldn't do yesterday. And tomorrow she will do even more. Her brain is a little sponge. Absorbing and growing. It's nice and plastic and it's taking everything in. It's wonderful.

I find it hard to believe she is 6 months old. On one hand I can't remember what life was like without her, it's like she has always been here, and on the other hand it feels like no time at all, that it was only yesterday they were laying her on my chest, that she was fast asleep tucked into me while I was confined to my bed for the first night.

And I have changed immeasurably in this six months. I am forever changed. And I don't want it any other way.