”Mothers are all slightly insane.”- J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye
“There’s no bitch on earth like a mother frightened for her kids.”- Stephen King
“(24/7) once you sign on to be a mother, that’s the only shift they offer.”- Jodi Picoult, My Sister’s Keeper
“It’s not our job to toughen our children up to face a cruel and heartless world. It’s our job to raise children who will make the world a little less cruel and heartless.”- L.R. Knost, Two Thousand Kisses a Day: Gentle Parenting Through the Ages and Stages
“You don’t have favourites among your children, but you do have allies.”- Zadie Smith, On Beauty
I’ve done something new today, uploaded a video to YouTube. I’ve never done it before. It was exciting and nerve-wracking all at the same time. Especially because my first post was the trailer or my book, “Confessions of a Mad Mooer: Postnatal Depression Sucks” which is out in December.
I’ve never made a book trailer before either. That was pretty nerve wracking in itself. In the end I kept it simple; just my words, and pictures of me with my little ones when we were going through my PND. I’ve attached the link. I hope you like it and I hope you’ll love my book. And don’t forget to check back regular for excerpts, give aways, exact release dates and links on where to get a copy.
Thanks for supporting me. You all mean more to me than I can say.
If you or someone you know has postnatal depression you cand find good resources on the following sites:
Okay ladeez, this week is PANDA’s Postnatal Depression Awareness Week. As most of you know postnatal depression (PND) is a topic that is near and dear to my heart and I started blogging about it after the birth of my twins. This year PANDA is urging people to host a lunch in November and start the conversation about perinatal mental health. I’m not exactly the hostess with the mostess, so this blog entry is my version of having a “lunch out loud.” So let’s start the conversation about perinatal mental health. I’ll go first.
I don’t just have PND and dyslexia, I also have questionable fashion sense.
Hi, my name is Robin and I had PND with all three of my children. Granted child two and three are identical twins, so it was actually only two cases, which makes it a little easier to cram it all in.
Despite the fact I had several things that made me a prime target for PND I wasn’t diagnosed until 9 months after the birth of my first child. That’s an awfully long time to go untreated. I was picked up earlier after the birth of my twins, at 4 months, but by that time I was so far gone that I was immediately admitted to a psychiatric hospital with a Mother and Baby Unit. Hardly a postive reflection on our allied health professionals ability to pick and and begin ttreatent of PND at this time.
Some of the more obvious risk factors I had, but were ignored, were:-
– Premature birth of all three children. my first child came at 35 weeks, and the twins came at 32 weeks.
– I had been through major depressive episode twice before in my life.
– I had limited family support and no paid support to fill that gap.
These were not my only issues but they were three key concerns that health workers should have known to keep an extra careful eye on. They did not.
My daughter, although born 5 weeks early, was big enough and strong enough not to need any medical assistance by the NICU. She roomed with me from the moment she was forceped out of my cut open vagingo. We were in hospital for 1 week and then we took her home at just 36 weeks gestation. One week before full term, four weeks before her eestimated due date.
Awwww, she still melts my heart on sight.
She looked like an angel and I loved her completely. However, she wouldn’t sleep and would spend two hours on the breast, feeding. She out-right refused a bottle, and no, you don’t get to just let a premi baby go hungry to force them to eat, they’re small and have enough issues without adding tough love. Any time that I would try to lie her down she would shriek in pain and vomit.
I was lucky if I got 30 minutes sleep all up in 24 hours. I was a mess. I cried, I vomited, and I began to collapse at random moments. My husband was angry that I kept calling him, begging for help. He told me that I needed to learn how to sort stuff out on my own like every other mother. He had a dreamy 1950s Hollywood fantasy and I was rudely intruding upon it.
I told the community nurses, I told my GP, I told Tresillian, I told a social worker. Their responses varied from – I couldn’t really be sleeping that little or I wouldn’t be able to smile (I’m a smiling depressive) – to – babies like to suck, a breast is better than a dummy, so I should just STFU. Nobody was willing o help me because I loved my baby and had bonded with her. As far as they were concerned, that was the only issue.
I contemplated suicide repeatedly every day. Given that nobody could see an issue with my existence I concluded that I was the problem . I felt that I wasn’t good enough to be a mother to my angel. It never occurred to me that I might have PND because the vast amount of media coverage depicted mothers with PND as being distant and unbonded. On top of that, not one single health professional had suggested it. I didn’t fit the stereotype, I didn’t hate my baby, I hated me.
When it came time for my daughter’s 4 month injection and checkup I couldn’t get an appointment with my regular GP. The receptionist recommended nother doctor. That doctor saved my life.
The doctor immediately recognized that my daughter had reflux and referred us to a specialist. She had a particular bad case. It was a textbook case and should not have been missed. Medication was prescribed. The GP also picked up that my daughter had hip dysplasia and referred her to another specialist. Because this condition was missed by the hospital, community nurses, and my previous GP, it had progressed past the point of a harness or brace being able to fix it. Within two weeks she was in for surgery and placed in a spica cast. It was traumatic for all involved. She is five years old now, her hip is much improved but not 100%.
Spica casts are not an easy ride, it gets better with time but don’t let anyone fool you into thinking it starts out easy.
Soon after that the GP called my husband into her office and told him that I was exhausted and unless he wanted me to end up in hospital he better start helping. From that point on she became my regular GP, I dumped the old one. A good GP is worth their weight in gold. If you find one, keep them, they can truly save your life.
After my daughter was treated and my exhaustion started getting under control my GP started working more seriously with me. So at 9 months post birth I was finally diagnosed with PND, put on a mental health plan, placed in therapy, and given medication. It was a long and brutal road but I got there.
I tell more of my story and all about my time in a psychiatric hospital with my twins in my book “Confessions of a Mad Mooer” which is being released in December. I hope it helps to further breakdown stereotypes and makes PND more relatable for others. We really need to get rid of the stigma and start that conversation to gain understanding and acceptance.
Okay, that was my turn, now it’s your turn to join the conversation. I’d love to read about your experiences in the comment section.
My book! It’s out in December. Woot!
(Note: I’m dyslexic so if you wish to comment to gloat about spelling and grammar errors… your time will be wasted. I can not simply stop being dyslexic and see and write things as you do.)
If you or anyone you know is depressed, here are some great links:
Quick confession, the title is a tad misleading. My blog posts on postnatal depression, which I always start with Confessions of a Mad Mooer, are not being converted into a musical… but I have used them as a basis for a book! That’s right, a book. I have written a book about my journey through postnatal depression mainly focused on my month long stay in a psychiatric hospital with my twins when they were newborns. My first blog entry on this can be found here. And the good news is, that you will be able to get it in both print and e format.
So in honour of Postnatal Depression Awareness Week, which starts today Sunday the 13th of November, I am doing a dramatic cover reveal even though my book is not due to be released until December. TADAH!
Look at her. Isn’t she magnificent? The art and cover design were done by Sally Walsh from Sillier than Sally Designs. I’ve never loved an image containing my own melon so much. I simply showed her the linked blog post, said that the picture in it represented my time in the psychiatric hospital, mentioned that I liked orange and birds, then asked if I gave her monies could she give me a cover. She said yes and managed to create this amazing piece of art.
Confessions of a Mad Mooer will be out in December. Talk about the perfect Cristmas gift for the hot mammas in your life.
Keep your eyes on this page for more information coming up about the release of my memoir about postnatal depression and my month long stay in a psychiatric hospital. Excerpts and giveaways are coming your way this week, I promise.
I will be doing a blog post about postnatal depression everyday this week as a nod to Postnatal Depression Awareness Week. Please do check in regularly or all the news.
And as always, any women who suffer from any form of depression or anxiety are welcome to join my own FB girl-tribe group which is pro mystical troll but doesn’t allow any nasty trolling.
1. I might be exhausted. I’ve got 1 year old twins and a 4 year old. That’s wonderful but exhausting.
2. One of the three kids could be exploding with vomit. They love to share illness and when they’re sick they need mum.
3. My babysitter fell through.
4. I don’t feel comfortable going out at night. I haven’t felt safe being on my own at night since I was raped at 16. I really do make an effort to do things at night but it makes me physically ill each and every time. Don’t get mad at me for the times I don’t go, please be thankful for the times I do go because it is seriously a big fucking deal for me each and every time. And yes, I might be meeting you somewhere so you think I’m not out alone at night but the journey there and back is on my own. It doesn’t matter how you try to convince me that my fears are stupid they are still there. Generally I just say no straight out to evening events but I have been trying to expand my confidence. I can’t always get myself over that line. You want me over that line, then you need to walk with me over it. Simple.
5. You’ve invited me and my kids and the kids will be batshit crazy tired and angry and I just can’t put them through that.
Oh, will you look at that, you only need one reason. Turns out you don’t need six reasons. Exact same can be applied for not finding out. One reason and one reason alone applies to you finding out or not finding out the gender of your own baby, because that’s what you want. Please don’t mistake what you want with what is right for others. Simple.
Happy fucking Mothers Day! Compassion, where is it? Seriously, I am getting very tired of all these articles about how mothers expect people to fall all over themselves just because they’re a parent. Well, let me give it to you quite simply. SHOW SOME COMPASSION! I’m a mother, I have a three year old daughter and one year old twin boys and I can assure you that I do not want people to “fall all over themselves” just because I am a parent. And here’s another little secret, none of my parent friends want you to either. However, we would all like a little bit of decency and respect shown to us. Is courtesy so hard? I show people courtesy, regardless of if they are single, married, young, old whatever, I expect a little common courtesy in return. So how about we all just operate on an understanding that everybody has shit to do, everybody had issues, and let’s just make this world a better place, not a worse one, for other people. Maybe try that out of vogue thing called “Random Acts of Kindness.” I’d like to just operate under the system of – Be Nice To One Another.
But if you are so uptight that doing anything that is not 100% your way is so foreign to you that you think of it as a complete affront to your sensibilities, how about I give you a few ideas on how to respect and accommodate your parent friends without “having to fall all over yourself.” (If anyone else read that same article that has me so steamed, you probably also read the one putting down Stay At Home Mothers, I’ll be ranting about that one when I get a chance too. Seriously, just be nice people. Everybody is doing it tough.)
If you are crossing a footpath and are perfectly able bodied, you can step up on the gutter… MUCH HARDER FOR PEOPLE WITH PRAMS! So perhaps make that ultimate sacrifice and step up and allow people with prams, infirm and people in wheel chairs to use the dips in the guttering that provide ramps, which they actually need. Shocking I know. The idea of stepping an inch to the side. I do it naturally when I use a crossing sans-pram, step up, and don’t even consider it falling all over myself to accommodate people who need the ramp in the guttering. Maybe try and see if you can do such a thing without it ruining your life.
Don’t whine to people with young children about how hard it is for you to visit them because they live x far away and they should visit you. Let’s even forget the fact that it is way easier for one or two adults to get in a car and drive somewhere than it is for someone to load three kids, a pram and a couple of porta-cots. Because honestly, the fact that it is way easier for someone who considers compassion to be a foreign concept really won’t care about ease anyway. So let me appeal to your logic, you ask for a fifty-fifty split in going to each other’s places, go right ahead but do expect to live up to fifty-fifty in every single other area of the friendship. You call fifty percent of the time, you arrange things fifty percent of the time, and you do fifty percent of everything. If you don’t have the compassion to be able to literally travel the extra mile when it is easier for you, I doubt you have the compassion to give fifty-fifty in other areas either. So take your pick. Step up in your friendship or step up in your travel.
Don’t tell mothers that you didn’t decide to have children so why should you have to tolerate them. FUCK OFF! That’s what you deserve to have said to you. Over and over again. Unfortunately, your parents did decide to have a child, and it was you, you who apparently wishes that no children could be seen or heard… which translate to, no children exist. Go off and live in a forest away from all. Adults were children once, if you want to interact with adults, well, they have to get through their childhood first. Nobody is asking a child hater to look after their child, or even spend time with them. You’re not the kind of person we want influencing our kids’ minds. But yes, kids will be breathing your same oxygen on the footpath. They’ll even be there on the train when you are, they’ll be serving you coffee at Maccas, and heaven forbid, babies, who cannot use words to communicate their disdain for you, will cry in your ear space. So really, show some tolerance or move to the mountains. Here’s another hot tip, people will burp, fart and sneeze in your air space too. Even if you choose not to emit gasses others will. So really, you should just go live a life of hermitude. Sorry that we humans and our tiny offspring piss you off so much, hopefully you’ll find enlightenment when you’re on your own away from our filthy populace.
I could go on but I said a few and I think I have vented my spleen enough. Seriously over this whole, put everyone down and don’t show any compassion to people thing that is popular today. It is like people have worked out that racism and homophobia is not okay but instead of putting their hatred aside and realizing it is toxic they have simply lumped it onto mothers. On behalf of all mothers, We’ve got enough shit, go peddle your hate elsewhere.
My boys looking guilty because they dared exist when there are people out there who didn’t want children… they also fart in your general direction.
As someone with no qualifications as a paediatrician, paediatric nurse, early childhood teacher etc I thought I’d share my expert tip on how to handle a triple nappy change. I’ve got a two year old and four month old twins so this is a regular occurrence in my home.
Step1: get twin a, open nappy, stick baby’s foot in poo, when jingling the baby awkwardly in an attempt to clean foot smear poo all over change table, mop up poo, get weeed on whilst distracted by poo, place baby on playmate to avoid baby getting further soaked again, have baby pee again, quickly put on nappy and move onto play mat with twin b, finish dressing.
Step 2: change twin b next to twin a on play mat as all other surfaces are urine and poop soaked, open nappy, twin a sticks hand in twin b’s nappy, clean off twin a’s hand, whilst cleaning twin a twin b is to power spew all over himself and twin a, as changing clothes of both twins 2 year old to rip off nappy, remind 2 year old to use pottie if they need to wee, 2 year old to tell you it’s ok they can just wee on the ground and crouch and urinate on ground.
Step 3: put nappy on 2 year old, 2 year old immediately does massive poo, chase 2 year old around the house whilst they scream, “no poo, no nappy change,” eventually subdue two year old terrorist and change nappy whilst you contemplate how the poo has managed to defy time, space, gravity and sanity.
Step 4: drink soothing cup of tea whilst developing an eye twitch and thinking about newspapering your whole house.
Can’t wait to share with you how “best” to deal with three kids crying at once…
Write or Wrong 