Daily Mail Mother Hating.

I read an extremely rude article (obviously a daily mail special) about how fashionable it is to be a selfish mother, drink a lot of gin and confess to the moments your mothering has been a little under par. I get it, I write openly about how hard parenthood can be and I want so desperately to remove the stigma that plagues us all with having to be the best at something that is so notoriously hard for many of us but we need to do this with a degree of restraint because glamourising dysfunctional behaviour can be very damaging. The ‘instamum’ fad is something that I follow because it’s somewhat interesting but it is far from my life, I often blog about the difficulties of every day life with a baby and child and all the washing and the bloody bottles and before that the problems I had with boob feeding but it is all required to raise my little humans. I laugh at the size of my butt and the hangover I may have once a year when I dare to make that trip back into normality, BUT to me and many other mums it is not normality! I cannot afford to drink fancy gin infused with the flowers from a Beatrix Potter like garden, I cannot afford the beautiful shoes and all the fancy clothes, I cannot afford to resume my previous job and benefit from some of the freedom that may allow. I am not bitter, I have two gorgeous children and the last thing I want to do is be judgemental but what we should do is take the things we see with a pinch of salt because these mumma’s with the thousands of followers on social media may not be portraying the reality of their life (barely anyone does these days) and in allowing others to see what makes them popular as the norm of their life may lead to the imitation of this and it could become dangerous. Let’s face it all that gin they apparently consume may be a lie, and if it isn’t they may have a really good support network of people that help them out with their busy social life.
Essentially what I am trying to say in the most nonjudgmental way possible is that for the vast majority of us parents we cannot simply (and I do not believe we should either) slip children into our lives, we need to adapt and change to what they need. It is hard to retain your original identity when you have children, and I am not saying that you will never get it back or that at times it is not okay for it to make a comeback whilst you are at the bar drinking shots but that is not the reality your children need as a common occurrence. Children need to come first, that’s right I have to take a back seat with my own needs and wants to fulfil what I want for my children. I choose to populate, I need to ensure that I do it to my best abilities.
I also am suffering from postnatal depression and anxiety and whilst I do my best at as mum I can sometimes see the lifestyles of others who are more confident, outgoing and relaxed mothers and want a slice of that, I know my limitations and I cannot afford myself to slip into the bad habits of lazy parenting because it would be so detrimental for me. Remove the stigma of accepting that some days are a little shit, some weeks, some months even, do not glamorise the notion of being a mother that doesn’t care (not saying that they don’t) is okay. You get me?




The Bigger Picture

This blog entry will be one of the hardest to write, I want to be honest and sincere because quite frankly as scary as the whole situation was I have a beautiful baby.

17th November 2015 I thought I’d lost George, I was on the boat home and I needed to pee so badly but being it was a rough crossing I stayed sat down, when the boat docked I stood up and thought I’d peed myself (not beyond me!) so I went to the toilet at the terminal and there I sat covered in my own blood. I cried and screamed in this little toilet, I called my partner who was waiting in the car park and he had to convince me to leave the cubicle. We sat silently in the car, I grabbed clean clothes from home, packed up some bits for Millie and took her to her grandfather’s before going to the hospital.

At the hospital we waited for hours and if I remember rightly we were low priority because I was miscarrying and there was nothing they could do, I could feel blood running from me and we were finally seen by the doctor who told me with all conviction that we were losing the baby. I was having a miscarriage. He offered me a referral for a scan in a few days to check that my womb was empty, I already had one booked and he confirmed I could use this. He then asked if there was anything he could say. The answer was no.

I got home and I spent what felt like hours in the shower. We bought a bottle of vodka and 20 cigarettes. I cried and cried and cried. We cried. We got daytime drunk and slept when we had exhausted ourselves crying. We had lost our baby. I cannot put into words the multitude of feelings that were circling my mind and as empathetic as I am I could never have expected this to have hurt as bad as it did. Everyone who knew were devastated, the hurt we were feeling had sent a ripple of pain through our families.

As empty as my body was feeling I’d never felt so loved, tragedy has a way of gripping everyone around you and unifying them with the notion supporting you and relieving the pain.

We have our baby, 6 days later the booked scan showed our baby. My partners first thought was it was a still from the previous appointment but no it belonged to us. There was so much going on inside at this point, I felt relieved but so scared.

It’s during times of exhaustion I need to remember that my partner helped me through this most painful time. He hid a lot of his own grief to look after me, he held me whilst I was sobbing, he reassured me that there was no fault or blame in what happened. He made the horrendous experience something that I can look back on as a point in our relationship where he put me above himself in the most selfless of ways.