Re-emerging

The summer holidays are always a surprise to me. With working part time as a secondary teacher and the pressure to complete all assessments, reports and end of year prize givings, plus now all the end of year events for my school age daughter, it seems I just stagger over the finish line as school ends. As I lie their gasping for breath, Christmas looms. I deliberately do no preparations for Christmas before about the 12th of December. Some may think I am unwise, but actually I think I am a genius. Having so little time to do anything before the big day means there can be no overly ambitious handmade, pintrist inspired, creativity. There are definitely no Christmas cards or family letters to post and even if I had the cash for lavish presents, I certainly don't have the time to buy them. This year I had a total of 3 hours to do all my Christmas shopping. George was at daycare and Ella was still at school. That meant I visited two shops and was done.

Now from that extremely utilitarian description of my lead up to one of the most significant days in the year, it would be understandable to conclude that I am not a person who enjoys the season and that gift giving and the traditions of advent don't really interest me. But that assumption could not be further from the truth. I love traditions and building them into our life as a family. I love buying presents for people and try to think about who they are as a person as I pick them. I also really enjoy baking and putting together food as a gift. I especially enjoy trying to make it a special day for my children. But over the last few years I have learned to set my expectations at the same level as my energy, and our finances. The result is that I have learned to accept what I am able to do, and though I look forward to a time when I can do more of what I love, I can let that go for now. I had moments this year of wishing we had all decorated the Christmas tree together (hubby took the kids and did it with them), or that I had made more handmade gifts, or that I made sure I had the Kings College Choir Christmas album to listen to as I wrapped presents (a tradition from my own childhood) or that I could buy more presents for more people and not worry so much about how to afford it. But it was still good. Perfect is not possible and isn't worth trying to achieve because it doesn't actually exist. The meaning of Christmas remains a constant no matter how much or little I do in preparation. An authentic Christmas means coming to that special day as I am.

And this year I was in bed with vertigo. Horrible spinning every time I moved my head. In days before Christmas I was so exhausted that getting up to prepare breakfast for the kids took superhuman effort. Every cell in my body yearned to sleep. I would have volunteered for a human version of hibernation if it had been offered to me. On Christmas morning I had hoped that rest and doing basically nothing for a week would mean I was fighting fit. But I wasn't. I managed that excitement of stocking opening and pancakes for breakfast but then had to crawl back to bed while hubby took the kids to church by himself. Then afternoon was thankfully spent with family and not at our house and I was so grateful that I didn't have to contribute much and could just sit still. It was a good reminder that there is no controlling this thing called life. Poor health and a mystery virus can strike at any time and is no respecter of circled days on the calendar.

The summer holidays have felt like extended convalescence and recuperation. Every day I napped and when I could I lay down. Hubby did most of the housework and keeping the kids entertained. I was really only useful to change the odd nappy and have cuddles on the couch. I have read about 5 novels. Probably 4 more books than I read all of last year. The heat has meant that lethargy is an acceptable way to be. And I have embraced it. Only two weeks ago did feel close to normal and back to myself. And finally this week I can imagine returning to work and not keeling over on the first day in exhaustion and shock. I am grateful beyond measure for my job which blesses me each year with so many holidays. This extended break over summer is a life saver.

I have also used the time to really focus on changing my diet. (I will write more about this later) I have also stopped having coffee, milk and gluten. This was all on the advice of a dr. I have been teetering all year on the brink of deep depression and increasing my medication regularly in the hope that finally I will reach that magic dose where the clouds lift but the side effects don't disrupt my life to much. So far no magic and so I am also beginning the process of weaning down. Too many side effects including this chronic fatigue that plagues me. And who knows what has made the difference and has me feeling well enough to actually write tonight. Maybe it is just having some Vitamin D, maybe it is getting more rest and not having stress or pressure. It could be the many supplements I am now taking or that somehow my diet is helping my body to function properly again. Who knows? All I know is that in December I was asking myself how I could actually do my life with so little energy and wondering whether other people had some sort of super power secret I wasn't privy to. Now I think I am accepting that I was physically burned out and that my stamina for busyness and stress is low. That's just how I am.

So 2014 was my year of No. I said "No" to a lot of ideas and opportunities. I said yes to one thing - planning and organising our church preschool programme. It has stretched me in some ways but in many ways it has refreshed me by reminding me of the core beliefs I have despite my times of struggle and questioning. And in the end any positive growth in me this year stems from the renewal of that foundation which I base my life upon.

2015 seems to be rolling along at a frightening pace already but I have been so grateful for the easing into it which I have been able to do. I have been considering what the focus for this year might be. I am thinking about choosing my attitude and actions rather than letting thoughts and emotions drive me and feeling powerless to their influence. I don't believe in denying how I feel but I do believe that once acknowledged, I can then choose my response in the light of wisdom and in the knowledge that my perception is often clouded. A blog I read a lot uses the phrase "we can do hard things". This is my hard thing. To establish some self control over my mind and heart and choose the right thing, even when it will challenge me. I am not thinking of any massive situations. I am thinking of those days when I wish I didn't have to go to work. Instead of frantically searching for a way to quit, I want to remind myself that my job is a blessing and that today is just a hard day. This will save me the exhausting tension of rethinking everything all the time just cause it feels hard. So I am welcoming 2015 knowing that I am going to need to build some muscles and do some practice but I "can do hard things".

No more "please rescue me"

The reality of life with two kids has well and truly dawned on me. I am back at work two days a week and with a baby still waking and the other normal stuff like laundry, cooking, more laundry, keeping everyone happy and healthy etc. things are feeling pretty overwhelming. Today I remembered the overwhelming sense of responsibility for Ella that I felt when we first brought her home. And I realised that a lot of my depression at that time was due to feeling that I just couldn't do it. I couldn't be everything she needed and do everything that needed doing. And so I thought she would be better off without me.

And so now I find myself feeling the same at times. Not so much that they would be better off without me. but that there is only one Mum and its me and even when I would love someone to come and rescue me from the sense of responsibility and burden I feel at times, it ain't going to happen.

Now don't get me wrong. I love my kids. But being a Mum is tough. And I am not going to lie about that just because you somehow aren't supposed to say that it isn't much fun at times. But if I am honest, what makes it tough, apart from all the usual realities like lack of sleep, loss of time for me and hubby, kids being sick or issues with behaviour. Oh the list could go on and on...
is having unrealistic expectations of myself and my underlying fear that somehow I am going to hurt my kids  in some awful way.

And so I keep thinking I need rescuing because the pressure I put on myself is so huge. And when I am able to step back and get some perspective, I realise I am doing a pretty good job. But it is so easy when I wake up feeling bleary and tired from an interrupted night, to feel incapable of looking after my kids. And not just surviving through the day, but giving them childhoods which build them up and prepare them for life.

I hope that this is just a part of growing up. You know, putting your money where your mouth is, as it were. I chose to have kids, I love them. Now this is the time where the rubber meets the road. I have to get on and do it. Not worry about doing it "wrong" or over analyse it all. Just do it.

I keep repeating to myself "I am the Mummy and I decide how we are doing it" when I have those times of doubt and confusion and just don't know what to do or keep second guessing myself. Often I am having to filter what I have read, or heard, or the way people I know approach a parenting issue. We are all bombarded with so much advice and research and dire warnings about what we should and shouldn't do as parents, and I think especially as mothers.

I have always been so influenced by others and struggle to accept that there is not one right way to live and do things. Blame my perfectionist tendencies and Christian upbringing maybe. Ironically there is actually very little in the Bible about the details of raising kids. That explains why "Christian" parenting reflects exactly the same continuum as we see generally in Western society.

Having two kids to juggle and their needs as well as my hubby's and my own, has really solidified the fact that I need to stop considering anyone else except those who live under our roof, and that compromise is a given. Things can't stay the way they were with once child and I can't do things the same way. I thought I had made all my parenting decisions up to the age of three. Turns out I haven't. George is so different from Ella, our lives are different and we are different. So I have to choose again. And no one is turning up at the door to tell me what to do and give me a gold star for doing it "right". So that is up to me, both the decisions and the gold star.

I know deep down that this is something I have needed to truly learn for years and this may be the way I learn it. But it is hard and painful and quite scary. And at about 3pm when I am hanging on for hubby to walk in the door and rescue me, I am learning that it doesn't actually work that way. I am still Mum and I am still in charge and if I don't cook dinner, or do the dishes or whatever really needs doing, then it probably won't happen. Until tomorrow, when I still have to do it. And if hubby and I don't decide to deal with Ella taking over an hour to get to sleep each night, then no-one else is going to.

So I am hardening up I guess, in a growing up kind of way. Hopefully love and grace can be the path I follow as I build up my Mum muscles.

The joy of 'selling out'

I have been mulling over this post for months. It seems that the dust is settling since George's arrival and life is seeming 'normal' as a family of four. Something I have given a lot of thought to is how the ideals I may have had before Ella arrived and again before George arrived have had to be dropped or let go of over the last few months. And 'selling out' on some of my ideals has been fantastic!

With Ella a big ideal I had was not too much or no t.v. That quickly went out the window and we joke that t.v is one of our most useful parenting tools. Being too sick to move during most of my pregnancy with George made me a great fan of Kidzone. That experience really taught me that it is not all or nothing. Sometimes t.v helps us get through the day. Ella rarely is left in front of the t.v alone and we had lots of lovely naps and cuddles on the couch as my tummy got bigger. Since George was born Ella often watches t.v while I am getting George to sleep. He finds his big sister way too entertaining to be able to sleep with her around. Since he has arrived I have tried to reduce how much we watch but some days it is on more than others.

I also told myself I wouldn't use food rewards. Well when it came to toilet training and specifically Ella and number twos, icecreams were magical. And at the moment they are also helping us get Ella used to going to sleep without her Daddy or me lying beside her. Maybe she will reward herself with food when she's older, but hopefully not. 

Feeding George has been the biggest challenge to my ideals. Letting go of breastfeeding and then slowly realising that it wasn't the end of the world, has been an eye opening journey. It has forced me to question a lot of the rhetoric used to 'encourage' (guilt trip) mothers about breast feeding. I am still a hand on heart breast feeding advocate, but not because of the evils of formula. (If you want to read more about this check out The Fearless Formula link in sites I like). Accepting formula and bottles helped me to stop stressing and focus on bonding with George and having time for Ella again after being so absent while I was sick and pregnant. It has been really tricky to navigate the new world of formula types, bottle feeding and all the pro breastfeeding but actually anti formula stuff I have had in my head which I have needed to work through. But it has also been so freeing to realise that so little about being a Mum and the relationship I have with George is about boobs or no boobs. Feeding him is just as special as it was with Ella. I had also these ideas about how not breastfeeding would change how I parented. But it hasn't. I find myself still cosleeping and feeding him to sleep. I have dabbled in changing that due to burps waking him but have come back round to the fact that he likes to go to sleep that way.

Doing things differently this time has freed me up to let go of some other ideals - like cloth nappies. Mine are currently listed on trade me. It is tough enough to get the washing done and hung out. So I am letting that one go. George loves his food. Ella wouldn't let a spoon near her mouth so she never had baby food. But with George I just couldn't face the pureeing so he is on commercial baby food and finger food from our meals. And it is great. I think I felt bad about it for a day. Then I just decided it worked best for us and moved on.

I think changing ideals is a normal part of parenting and so many things I thought I would 'never' do or 'should' do, I have either changed my mind about, couldn't actually manage or have decided were basically stupid. And instead I have tried to focus on being the parent I want to be rather than 'doing the right things". My kids want me, not a mother who does the 'right' things. Enjoying our life together is more important than meeting some expectations I used to have or thought meant I was a good Mum.

I guess I have said goodbye to ideals and got back to my values. What is really important to me and to our family? I guess some 'doing' things do matter - like eating food we have grown, spending time together, keeping things simple. But there is no prescription for how that looks in practise and no rules about how family should be. Kids want their parents to be present, to be loved, warm and fed. That's it. That is why kids who grow up in all sorts of families all turn out ok. And kids who don't know they are loved, all suffer for it. So it isn't about how you do being a parent. I'ts that you love your kids and they know it.

Letting go of ideals is another step in my quest to banish perfectionism from my life and on the other side of idealism there is a much more peaceful and joyful reality. As I drove along the motorway today I thought "I am truly happy and relaxed" and George has a cold, and I am tired and I have work tomorrow. So I think that is worth celebrating. No more ideals. A bit more real.

It's not ok, but it's normal

You know those days, when you wake up full of the flu, or gastro, which means you are empty. Or you have had about one hour sleep total cause someone can't or won't sleep or is sick etc, etc, etc. You know, those mornings. On those mornings I usually think "This is not ok". I never feel like I can get through the day and on those horrible ones that don't fall on a weekend, I feel like it is a disaster.

This is what usually happens in my head ..."How will I cope being sick/exhausted/sick and exhausted all day? How can I look after two kids when I am not even fit to look after myself? I want to sleep all day but I can't. Its not fair! Ok I have to get a plan. What can I do?"

In the past the plan usually involved either seeing if hubby could stay home or seeing if someone could look after a not sick kid. If it was a sick kid - and I was ok - no problem. If it was sick me and sick kid, not so much. It felt like I was going to have to climb Mt Everest. Actually it still does. But you know what? I think as my confidence has grown as a Mum and don't always jump to thinking it is a disaster. I am starting to think it is normal.

A few weeks ago I was up literally all night cause I was sick. I was telling my sister in law a few days later that I had just thought "This is not normal. A person with zero sleep should not be looking after kids". She quickly replied that it is actually totally normal. And it is. All over the world, every day, are parents looking after kids when really they shouldn't even be operating a kettle. Cause that's what I am, a parent. And there are no days, hours or minutes off. No-one else can step in. I mean, if I had lost a leg, or as in the past, was losing my mind, then family and friends come to rescue. But for the more mundane and every day shocker of a day, it is just me. And I am learning that I can cope.

I think when Ella first arrived I went through the normal shock of all first time parents. The realisation that this completely dependent human was totally dependent on me. And in my case was totally dependent on someone who was on morphine and recovering from major abdominal surgery and by 3 weeks in, was also losing the plot. In any normal circumstances, that would require care and protection notification to CYFS. But oh yeah, that is pretty much normal for new parents. So no child protection officials. Just getting through the new landscape, full of sleep deprivation, complete confusion and the delight of this little person, who keeps you going, despite it all.

And when I was sick or had a terrible night, it was just us. Me and her. It was still tough but I just had to manage the two of us. Now there are three and when I wake up from another night of hardly any sleep I really do wonder how I am going to manage. And there have been many days where the plan has involved Ella going to someone's house or me getting help and I think that is definitely the way to go if you can. But I think I am starting to accept that it is normal. That it will keep happening. And I am less freaked out.

I think the main pressure I feel on a day like that is my own expectations. I don't want things to slip. I feel really bad about having a day in front of the t.v. There has been a lot of that over the last year and I hate it. Don't get me wrong, T.V is a frequently used parenting tool at our place. But I feel bad when I can't manage. I think I feel like I am doing a crap job as a Mum.

And I think that is the clincher. It's not a job. You can't call in sick or get a replacement so you can't have the expectation that as a Mum, you can "work" at it each day. You have to just be as you are sometimes. The kids are fed and warm and dry and that is all that is possible that day, or week. And I am learning to accept that. And hopefully in learning that crap days are normal, maybe my kids will be better than me at dealing with the crap days they face and see them as just a normal part of life that we all have to face and it doesn't have to be a disaster, or mean there is something wrong with you. They just are.

An apology

This post has been perculating for a while. It has been a painful and confusing time where i have reconsidered a lot and have had to look myself in the eye. I suspect that many around me may heave a high of relief when you finish reading this. And that is hard to face. I also suspect i have hurt and been insensitive to people i care deeply about and that is so awful to accept and take responsibility for.

So anyway, a few weeks ago i thoughtlessly pressed share on my phone after liking a cartoon on Facebook. (I am deliberately not linking to it). Suffice to say it expressed the opinion that children shouldn't be left to cry. A friend didn't like the conclusions the cartoon drew and let me know. My friend and i had a good talk about it and all was fine but it got me thinking about some tough truths for me as a mum and the impact depression has had on me and my parenting choices and opinions.

Before Ella was born and even before we lost our first child, i had been keen to read and learn all i could about parenting. I was, and still am, really sensitive. As a child I was very sensitive to those around me and wanted to be the best parent i could be and do everything right. By the time Ella born i had a mini library of parenting books and thought i knew how it was going to be. My friends from our antenatal class and coffee group will remember well how embarassingly well informed i was. Now there is nothing wrong with being well read and informed about having kids, but i do think you need to know what is behind your need to know. And my reason was fear of hurting my child and of not doing it "right". It really had not dawned on me that there is no right way. That would have scared me even more!

Anyway, after Ella's birth i was hit with severe depression. Picture me lying on the couch, unable to sleep or eat, panic attacks whenever i breastfed and seriously contemplating suicide. I felt completely overwhelmed by this tiny new baby who was so dependent on me. I felt unable to cope and truly believed she would be better off without me as her mum. It still shocks me to think back to that time and how awful it was.

I was very lucky, in a way, to become so ill so soon after Ella's birth as i was prescribed antidepressants and felt better relatively quickly. But the foundation was already laid for how i would mother. I think the worst fear of any mother with mental illness is that your illness will badly impact on your child. And the research shows that children of mothers with depression are vulnerable to the impact of the often disrupted attachment with their mum and are at much greater risk of mental illness themselves, not just due to genetic factors. I was so afraid of Ella suffering because of me that i did everything i could to promote attachment. I wore her in a carrier, breastfed on demand, bed shared and refused to follow the advice of leaving her to cry, even when she was waking 5 or more times a night for months on end.

Ella was and still is a delightful, outgoing and intense person. I like to say her off button is missing. She struggled to get to sleep and if left would just become hysterical. She had the disturbing habit of coming out in a rash whenever she cried and then crying in her sleep for the entire time she was asleep if she got upset while settling. She was also impressive in her spilling to the point that it felt like i was carrying an over-full mug around which would tip copious amounts of milk on me and everywhere else at any time. Our floor resembled a Jackson Pollock painting and the amount of laundry was insane. Excuse the pun. So add in my perfectionist tendencies and then a good dose of depression and being highly sensitive and it is pretty clear why we chose to parent Ella the way we did.

Now i don't regret how we have done things. It has suited Ella and certainly hasn't hurt her. But there were times where the effort to meet her needs left me completely exhausted and vulnerable to the depression I was working so hard to protect her from. George's birth and him being so settled, the choice to formula feed, the shared parenting hubby and i are doing and being well this time around are all meaning i am recognising how unhealthy some of my choices and thinking have been and in turn i have needed to believe i was right and things were black and white. And i surrounded myself with books, people and Facebook pages which would support my choices. (i am getting to my point). Hence why i was getting cartoons such as the one i posted, on my news feed. So back to posting opinionated parenting links.

For a long time i have needed parenting to be a black and white affair while there was so much grey around. My apparent confidence and certainty was as much about my own fears and insecurities as the research i had done. I do wish i hadn't been so quick to give advice or opinions, even just in my head. Nothing is certain or simple and in the end, what i think is pretty irrelevant. The mother i am now is shifting.

I am still committed to being a responsive parent but now good enough will have to do. In the past i have not been good at recognising my own needs and limits. But another tough pregnancy, this time with a preschooler, trying to avoid depression and not being able to breastfeed have all led me to climb down from my high horse and face my reality rather than a fantasy i thought i had to live up to. I don't regret my choices but i regret my attitude and assumptions. My life, my family and myself are a hodge podge of so many beliefs, experiences and circumstances and are unique. So now i see myself as a mum who is working it out as i go along and hopefully someone who is quick to empathise with other parents as we all make the best choices we can for or families.

So if you have ever felt judged by me or that I seemed to have it all together and know what I was doing...I apologise. And I hope you realised at the time and now, that I really don't know much and am just dealing with life as best I can at the time. I feel so blessed to be surrounded by so many mothers and families of all types and persuasions, who inspire me and share life with me. thank you

What makes my soul sing?

Recently I have been hit by one bug after another. I got so run down and just couldn't recover. I decided since my GP could only say "take a paracetamol" that I would see a naturopath. Six weeks later and I am feeling so much better. Apart from pills and potions she had a good look at my week and saw how busy I was. So I have scaled back my life and tried to make sleep a priority. She also challenged me about not doing enough to make my soul sing, the things that make me feel alive.

Coming away from the appointment and still feeling awful I felt like I could take all the supplements and do less but the most challenging part was to do things which I love to do. It is so easy with a small child and work and life in general to feel there just isn't space for me and to feel powerless to do anything about it. I was having a pity party to a friend, saying I just can't do the things I love, like going to the movies and read, while being a Mum. And she called me on it. And she is right. That is a lie that leads nowhere but dissatisfaction and resentment.

So I have started trying to prioritise the things I love but also trying to think creatively about how they can work with the way my life is now.

Here is my list:

• Cooking - bought two foodie mags and am cooking my way through the recipes.
• DVDs - if I can't get to the movies then I can try to watch some DVDs on a Friday night cuddled up with hubby and something scrummy.
• Reading - I am being patient about this but I am trying to make some time for reading on a Saturday morning while Ella is at swimming with the other half.
• Gardening - doing the vege garden at work is pretty fantastic!

I am still working on a few other things like going for a massage, a horseride and possibly to a film fest film. But I am committed to keeping on being me and not waiting for some distant time when life is less busy. Cause I don't think that time will ever come.

Remembering

I work as an English teacher with teen mums and we have 3 mums with young babies who have just started with us. It is the first time since Ella was wee that I have been around tiny new babies for more than a visit for a cup of tea. It has shocked me how much it has brought back about those first few months with Ella. I had forgotten how tiny she was and how much I was just guessing about what to do. I rocked one of the little boys to sleep yesterday and it was almost too much for me to remember my desperation when I rocked Ella, that she would sleep, that I would sleep. That I wouldn't feel so terrified and exhausted and desperate.

It is easy to believe now that I am coping well and just have to remember to take two white pills, to believe I am well. That that terrible time in my life is gone and I can pretend it didn't happen. But the awful sick feeling I had as I looked at these new mamas and their bubs reminds me that I am not okay. That I carry scars and that healing must happen.

Recently many of the Mums I know have been talking about having another child. Honestly, I feel nothing but shock at even contemplating such a crazy thing. For me it feels like a path that would lead to despair and doom. Now those are not the thoughts of a well and healed woman! So even though it is so tempting to pretend that everything is fine. It is not. I love my life now and I am content but there is unfinished business and I hope that I can have the courage and honesty to face it and not just brush it away with another two white pills.