Welcome back sanity. I missed you. Promise you'll never leave me again?

So, this is awkward. I apologise for my rage, hormone, sleep deprived, possibly rum fuelled temporary loss of sanity in my previous post. I hope it made you feel better about your own sanity. If you were nodding along & getting ready to jump with me, then it's probably time to see a professional.

As per the previous statement, I actually did see a professional about my mental state. Reluctantly, but I did it.  It turns out, my reactions are mostly normal, human reactions to a pretty shitty situation. Do I have postnatal depression? Possibly. Is it bad enough for a phone call to the little men in white coats? Not yet. Hash tag winning.

For those worried about me, I'm fine. For those worried about my baby, he's also fine. See here's the thing. I actually have a very supportive network around me. My husband is amazing. My mother lives with us and helps out more than she probably should. My good friends are my good friends for a reason - they're good. No they're great.

Turns out there's actually a lot of support out there for those who are able to get it. Some people, aren't lucky enough to get it. Through lack of knowledge, lack of knowledge on where to get the knowledge, or simply because they slip through the cracks & help is too late.

Being a parent is hard. Like super, mega, how have we survived as a species hard. When I said 'how hard can it be?' apparently the universe accepted it as a challenge and complied.

That's cool though. I'll get there. I feel like sometimes our society has turned into something where being sad isn't allowed. When shit stuff happens you're expected to pull yourself up the bootstraps and continue on. It's OK to be sad sometimes, especially if sad stuff is happening.

This whole experience to date has really highlighted a few things for me.

Single parents - you're fucking legends.

You should be awarded as Australians of the Year every year. I don't know how you do it. My husband and I are finding it unbelievably difficult, and we have the ability to give bub to each other so the other can go and take a break. Same goes for people who have partners that work away. Hats off to you.

Mother guilt is real and it can & will kill your soul.

I thought the guilt I felt when I drank some coke whilst pregnant was bad. There are no words to describe the constant fear that I am failing my child. Is he well enough? Should I be teaching him words yet? Is he too hot/cold/insert anything here? Did I wait too long to change that nappy? Should I be taking his temperature more regularly? Did I pass on my crazy genes to him? The list goes on and on. It's ridiculous.

Mother shaming is also real and can & will kill your soul.

Unless you have an over inflated, untouchable sense of self that would rival Anthony Mundine, do not join any 'Mummy' pages/help groups unless they are run by an actual paid professional. If you didn't have mummy guilt before, you sure will after. If you must join, do not, I repeat DO NOT ask a question about how you should/have parent/ed your child. Not only will a war of words erupt, causing Facebook to implode and baby Jesus to cry, but you will end up feeling more shit than you already do due to the amount of Mummy shaming that goes on. There are 3 things you can be certain of in this world - Death, Taxes & the Self-righteous-I'm-a-better-parent-than-you-because-I-feel-passionately-about-x/y/z Mum. I just wish sometimes women weren't such bitches & could help a sister out instead of making them feel worse in order to make themselves feel better. Opinions are like arseholes - everyone has one but sometimes you shouldn't bring them out in polite company.

Sometimes, a flippant comment, or a miscommunication between a health professional & a parent can make the difference between a bad time & a disastrous time.

Today, I had an excellent specialist appointment. He appreciated the fact, that I'm a first time mum, I've had a rough time so far, and I'm fragile. He explained the not so good news in an understanding, calm manner. He made me feel like he had all the time in the world for my stupid questions. We left the office, disappointed but not feeling like it was the end of the world. He gave us his medical opinion and I respected it because of his manner. Before my last blog, I had a specialist appointment with a Dr who made me feel like I was a number, that my questions were irritating, that his time was more precious than mine, and who delivered bad news like it was no big deal that my world had come crashing down around me and 'next please!'. I left the appointment feeling like he should circumcise the dick on his head & I hoped he got genital warts. I also spent the next week in absolute turmoil, trying to find evidence that his opinion was wrong because he is obviously a peckerhead. Note to Dr's everywhere.....

It's ok to ask for help and admit that parenting isn't what you expected.

Remember that part about parenting being hard? Well when I spoke to a couple of my fellow parent friends, they let me in a little secret - it IS hard. Those new parents that look like they have it all together and that it's the most magical time of their lives? They're full of shit. They're struggling too they're just to proud to let you know (see Mummy shaming above). I've had it stuck in my head that I 'should' be doing everything myself & I 'should' be coping much better than I have been because that person on Facebook posted that wonderful status & picture. Well my words of wisdom are this....

Anyway, that's my diary entry for another day. I apologise for my flippancy about PND & mental illness in my last blog. It should be taken seriously & if you're struggling then please get help. Call lifeline, the hospital, a friend whoever. It's surprsing how a fresh set of eyes can change the way you see a situation.

Cheers,

Qld Nurse.

PND - Come at me!

See what I did there? I made light of my mental illness by rhyming it.... coz it's funny.

Not really.

Sometimes I want to leave my baby on someone's doorstep & hope they give him a better life than I believe I can give him. For realsie.

See here's what's happened. Bear in mind, events are shaded with a tinge of apparently post-natal depression (what PND stands for in case you hadn't figured it out already you stupid non-mental health professional stupid stupidity).

I've had a baby born 11 weeks premature, after almost 1.5 years of 'trying' and one round of fertility treatment. My pregnancy was awful, with me throwing up everyday until 2 days before said baby was born via emergency c-section due to pre-eclampsia and HELLPs. He spent 3 weeks in NICU, 1 day short of 6 weeks in SCN, a total of 1 day short 9 weeks before we could bring him home. I made the best that I could of the situation. I created charts that showed his progress. I decorated his room with photos. I made good of getting out of the room at least once a day like everyone told me I should. I expressed milk religiously, took medications & changed my diet to build up my milk supply to a) give him down his tube to prevent the millions of illnesses that were thrust upon him if breast was in fact not best, and b) be able to breastfeed once he was old enough & able. I kangaroo cuddled the shit out of this kid. If I was in the room, he was down my shirt asleep on me. I harassed staff daily, until the day that they finally said we could bring him home. I thought they were messing with me, but no, they were seriously giving a baby to me to look after.  I got him home. And....

He cries. ALL the time. If he's awake - chances are he's crying. Sometimes screaming. He has a whole range of health problems from being born prematurely - none of which is any of his fault. Hypothyroidism, phosphate deficiency, Hb deficiency..... a number of surgical issues that need to be followed up. The latest of which, is a tongue tie that is so severe it needs to be done under general anesthetic because it will no doubt need a stitch. The surgeon, tells me he won't do it until 12 months old, due to the prematurity and size of my bouncing baby boy. Sound medical judgement.  This however, means the weeks that I've been struggling to breastfeed are useless, because he will not be able to do it efficiently. Deep down I've know this. We've struggled. To the point I have yelled at him "this is instinctual!! All animals know how to do this! Why don't you?!?" We bottle feed him the milk I express all thinking "on Tuesday they'll snip the tongue tie and all will be well."

Here's the thing. I feel like the mother-fucking-epic-bob's-your-uncle-epic-fail of mothers that ever failed the fail. I feel like I should have listened to all the signs of the universe telling me I should not have a child, and just got another puppy instead. You know why? Because this is my puppy. Well my year and 2 months old puppy. This photo is not even posed. He just grabbed it, and wandered round like a "baws y'all". For real. Because he's amazing.

Here is my child. My 'survived me trying to kill him for 7 months, I'm a little human child'.

Cute, yes. Allowed me to make a beard out of bubbles in his bath, yes. Screams non-stop throughout the day, yes....

The one thing I was clinging to, was breastfeeding. The one normalcy of this whole situation, was being able to breastfeed my child. And that has been taken away from me. And you know what? I feel fucking cheated. If anything should be ok, it should be this. It could be the ceasear, where I couldn't hold my child, I didn't feel him 'coming out' of me. It could be the fact that I couldn't hold my baby for 8 days until he was over 1kg.  It could be a number of things, but I've always felt that I'm playing house. That this kid is someone else's and I'm just playing until someone real comes along and claims actual parentage. This confirms it. This should have been the thing that 'cinched' our relationship.

But it hasn't.

So welcome to the "Qld Nurses, wanted to be, but should have listened to the signs and now has PND and doesn't want to have a baby" blog.

Enjoy the ride. Someone should.

Cheers,

Qld Nurse.

I'm a MUM

So here's a funny story. About a week after I wrote my last blog I gave birth to a tiny little boy 11 weeks early via emergency classical C-section. Ok, so not really that funny a story.

I was writing about how I hated being pregnant and it turns out, that my experience may have been skewed a little. I developed severe, early onset pre-eclampsia and then HELLPs where basically my liver almost carked it (for once, not because of too many Bundy Rums!) and my platelets dropped a bit. Was good fun, you should try it sometime. *searches for sarcasm font*

Here's how it came about. I had upper abdominal pain for about a week that gradually got worse. Being a nurse, I don't go to the hospital unless I'm dying - in this case I was, as was my baby but because I took Panadol & the pain went away I figured it couldn't have been that bad. After all, Panadol cures nothing right?  Anyway, the first time I went to the hospital everything was relatively ok with my bloods so I went home & was told to come back a week later for more bloods. 2 days later I was back at the birth suite & my blood pressure had skyrocketed. A scan of the baby showed he was growth restricted, and although I was 29 weeks pregnant, he was only measuring around 26 weeks. The blood flow was impeded but he was compensating, just. I had to be monitored extremely closely, was given a couple of steroid injections in case of early birth and told I wasn't leaving the hospital without having had a baby. Yes I did ask the Dr if I could go back to work, as it was only a level up & I was on light duties anyway. No she didn't smack me in the head but I'm sure she was face palming inside.

Long story (somewhat) short, 2 days later he wasn't compensating as well as they'd hoped, my blood tests were getting worse as was my blood pressure, so the amazing team decided it was better he come out then instead of waiting until full blown emergency holy shit he's dead time. We had 2 days to prepare for being parents as opposed to the 3 months we thought we had.

Born at 900 grams, he wasn't breathing & scored himself a trip to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit then to the Special Care Nursery.  Today is our first full day at home after a very long 62 days in the hospital. So for those of my lovely Twitter pals who were wondering where I've been, I've been in room 42 of the Special Care Unit waiting (sometimes not so patiently) for my little boy to be strong enough to come home.

This little guy is pretty much the strongest dude I know. The will to live is incredible. Not only were nurses amazed that he was never intubated despite his young age & tiny weight, not only did he have no real complications that made his stay any longer than it had to be, but this little dude is showing no signs of developmental delay and has come home with only really relatively small health issues, considering his cooking time was cut short by 11 weeks. Most importantly, he also farts & burps at the same time, which I didn't manage until I was about 5 years old. He is the most incredible, tiny, scariest, cutest thing in my world and if anyone hurts him I will pull their fingernails out.

I went through a massive period of feeling immensely guilty that I didn't know something was wrong with my baby. Truth be told I'm still not over it. My little dude was making me sick because I was killing him and all I could complain about was throwing up and carpal tunnel. Having said that, I have been reassured by many, that the symptoms I was experiencing also happen to be symptoms of pregnancy. Carpal tunnel can affect up to 50% of pregnant woman, it also happens to be due to swelling which a sign of pre-eclampsia. I was sick well past the first trimester which some women are just unlucky enough to have to deal with, but it's also a sign of pre-eclampsia.

Hindsight is 20/20 and I did think that something might not be right quite early on. But, being a first time Mum, I put that down to being worried due to previous miscarriage and, well, being a first time Mum. My only advice to other future Mums, is to not feel stupid questioning your health care practitioner when you think something isn't right. I wouldn't have even gone to the hospital if it weren't for my husband strongly suggesting (with definitely no swear words) that I go right away. I didn't want to look like the over cautious, stupid, annoying first time Mum that got a check up for every niggle & pain. I should have.

Anyway, that's my story for the last 9 weeks. I hope you've all been well! I will spare you the million and one photo spamming of my gorgeous son because I'm sure you'll all see him when he rules the world in a couple of years. Ok, you twisted my arm, here you go. 

Cheers,

Qld Nurse (on maternity leave).

TMI about Week 28 of my 40 week sentence...

When I was barely 3 months pregnant, I wrote about what I'd learned so far about being pregnant. It's now 7 months & my baby will most likely survive with NICU support if born now (touch so much fucking wood). I have still have 3 months to go (yes that's right kids, women are actually pregnant for 10 months!) but have learned so much more in the 4 months that have passed. Here's some little gems that I hope you will find funny at my expense. I'm sure one day I will too.

1. Just accept you will lose all dignity from the start. It's easier that way.

This little gem came rather sharp and fast when my husband walked in on me naked and crying on the toilet, straining so hard from constipation that I thought I would give myself an aneurysm or rip myself in half. Through sobs I asked him to get me a glove so I could give myself a suppository. Sexy. That my friends is unconditional love right there. When someone sees you in that fine form, and still wants to actually have sex with you, hold onto them for dear life. They're a solid gold fucking keeper. I thought about it later, and realised this was probably excellent preparation for labour and we can laugh about it now. Well he can anyway.

2. Kegal schmegal. At some stage you will still piss your pants.

This one goes hand in hand with number 1. I've been doing my kegals like no-one's business. I've checked those little suckers out and can stop mid stream like a champion. Nurse bladder and all. I can tell you now, when you have such a violent spew that your nose bleeds and it comes out your eyeballs, with that added pressure of the baby on your bladder, you will piss your pants. My tip is to have a handy spew bag next to the toilet, so when it happens you can at least spew into that while you awkwardly try & get your pants off fast enough to maintain some sort of undie integrity. Worst case scenario, start stocking up on Tena when you find them on special. Do it now. You'll thank me later.

3. Don't ask a question unless you really, REALLY want to know the answer.

This one is especially true if you work with nurses. Specifically midwives who also dabble in special care nursery or the like. People think because you're a nurse you know everything about every medical condition in existence. This is so far from the truth. I worked with head injuries for a long time. Baby incubation and such are the completely other end to what I worked with and are just as much of a mystery to me as the next first time mother. So unless you really want to know what the actually likelihood of your baby surviving were it born at this particular instance, do not ask. You know the answer to whether you will shit yourself or not, don't be stupid. Do you really want to know what sort of damage will be done to your hoohaa and if it will heal like everyone says? Want to hear about all the ways you or your child could die during labour? You want an in depth description of how a full length mirror can be bought in during labour so you can watch what your hoohaa is physically capable of? No. No you don't. Trust me you don't. Unless it's imperative to your medical care, just ostrich that shit - keep your head firmly in the sand and pretend there will be butterflies shooting out of your lady garden as a harp plays, and the magic of the moment will sweep you up and make everything okay. That's what I'm doing from now on.

4. Just like the first signs of morning sickness, the novelty of the first kicks will wear off.

Especially when baby wakes you up sitting on your pubic bone kicking you in your special place at 2am. Don't get me wrong, it's a lovely reminder that baby is alive and I'd rather it kick than not. But when people think you have developed Tourette Syndrome because mid conversation you suddenly grab your guts & scream 'Oh Jesus Christ you little fucker get OFF there!', you realise the wonderment of the first 'oh my god I just felt the baby kick!' is long gone. Seriously, sometimes it's like a little kick boxer seriously testing the limits of skin elasticity and organ resilience to baby feet. It's lovely but it's fucking painful, and anyone that tells you it isn't, well they're lying to you fool. Which brings me to my next point.

5. Women lie about the 'joy of pregnancy'.

Why? I don't know. Maybe it's because they're evil bitches who lure the unsuspecting in to pregnancy just to smugly laugh at how someone else had to suffer like they did. I honestly don't know. Let me tell you this. I'm not enjoying being pregnant, and I'm telling every person who is wanting to have a baby this. The glow? That's sweat. The calm? That's deep breathing trying to keep the vomit down. Everything hurts and sometimes if you're really lucky (like me) you get complications such as carpal tunnel, bleeding, incompetent cervix, eclampsia or a list of other shit & painful things that by now you'd think evolution would have sorted out. Apparently it's all worth it in the end, and hey some dumbasses go back for it more than once so it's got to have some perks. I'm telling you now to think seriously about whether you are really prepared for a booger eating shit machine to stake down territory in your uterus for almost a year. I didn't. I was so focused on the 'getting pregnant' problem that I didn't focus on the 'once you're pregnant' stage. Be the healthiest you've ever been in your life, no joke. They don't tell you this just to make you feel bad for eating that cake. Make sure you've got a really supportive partner, friends, workplace, Doctor, community phone counsellor etc. Don't be like me and think 'how hard can it be? You get fat and your back hurts a little. So many people do it. She'll be apples.' Dumbass. This girl right here. I've learned my lesson so you don't have to. The cliches are true. You're welcome.

So that's me done for another hormone induced rant. I'm just going to get up and dislodge this kid from my left hip bone before it then kicks me in the stomach & I projectile vomit. I'll probably have to wash my compression gloves & splints that I use for the carpal tunnel again. Then I will get some broken sleep where I will wake up crying after having dreamed that something has happened and this kid didn't get to know how much I love it. Then I will think about how overjoyed I am that this kid has made milestones and is healthy and I can't wait to meet him or her and realise that I would die before I let someone hurt it. Then rock the little bugger to sleep whilst feeling awful for all the other wannabe mummies out there who won't get to experience a baby lodging itself under their hip. Then I'll cry again. *sigh*.

Little shits really weasel their way into your hearts don't they?

Cheers,
Qld Nurse

This is not going to be a popular post.

So I'm going to dip my toe in a political post again. *Deep breath*

DISCLAIMER

I don't claim to be an expert on political affairs, most of the time I struggle to care because it's all such bullshit. I also in no way support Tony A-butt as I'm sure you know from me calling him a few choice words in a heated post a while back. I'm not a LNP fan, having said that I am also not a ALP fan, or a Clive Palmer fan or pretty much any of the politician's fans because the majority are overpaid megalomaniacs in politics for selfish reasons who really don't give two shits about the people they're representing.

Here we go.

There are proposed changes to the dole which mean that job seekers under the age of 30 will have to spend 25 hrs a week 'working for their dole' and apply for 40 jobs a month. Which works out to be 2 job applications & 5 working hours per working day, say Monday - Friday. Or Tuesday to Saturday, because we all know the Saturday paper has the biggest amounts of jobs.  My question is......and?

There are people losing their collective shit all over Australia stating how unfair this is and how you will have so many people applying for so few jobs and how are you supposed to fit in the job finding with the having to work? Seriously? You are unemployed and young. What else do you have to do with your 24 hours free a day?

In the short periods of time where I have been unemployed, I used to apply for up to 10 jobs A DAY. I had rejection letters coming out the wazoo. My job was finding a job. But I wanted a job. No, scrap that - I NEEDED a job. I applied for jobs that were beneath me, above me, jobs I wanted, jobs I wasn't so keen on, jobs I thought I'd have no chance of getting but would apply anyway. Because that's what you do. You don't 'wait' for the perfect job to appear because guess what kids? Sometimes that 'perfect job' doesn't exist or won't exist for months, and your landlord doesn't give a fat rat's ass that you've got a degree in interpretative dance and there are currently no jobs in your area. I've been a checkout chick, worked at Maccas, waited tables, I worked at a servo filling up gas bottles back in the day. Did I want to be any of those things? Nup! But apparently Ergon Energy aren't that interested in my dreams and aspirations. They're more interested in not letting me have free electricity. Because nothing in this world comes for free kids. So how 'bout we put our big girl panties on and deal with that ok?

The more time you are unemployed, the more undesirable you will be to a future employer. The more time off you have had, the less likely you will be to even get to interview stage. So if people are REALLY wanting to work, why is working for the dole such a big deal? It's experience. Even if you are working at a job you hate, you are getting experience in time management, in team work, in arriving on time, in organisation. The work for the dole may not be experience you would normally get, but it's experience. It will look good on your resume, it will show future employers that you have initiative. No, everyone is not suited to going out and digging holes but you will be a productive member of society and getting skills that can be transferred into your dream job when it is advertised one day. I was working 2 jobs while I was studying at uni AND still found time to volunteer at 2 places that I thought would get me valuable experience when I finally could apply for my 'dream job'. So don't tell me that it can't be done.

I don't know anyone that jumps out of bed in the morning, raring to go to work. Would I rather sit at home all day? Well yeah for a while I guess that would be great. I get pretty bored when I have more than 4 days off in a row and I remember going insane having no job and no money though, but hey! Maybe that's just me?

My point is, there are people out there, myself included who pay shitloads of tax to support people who need it. Who flog themselves into the ground daily but never see a third of that money because it goes to improvements in society like free healthcare, education and helping those less fortunate. I have absolutely no problem in that.....when it's actually going to people who need it. Disabled. Mentally ill. Pensioners. Yep, I got your back. Not single mums, who's youngest kid is 10 and going to school but she doesn't want to be a cleaner. Not a 20 something year old who wants to pick and choose when they want to go to work because some days they just don't have the energy. Not someone who has figured out that they get less money if they work over a certain amount of hours so they choose not to work instead because 'what's the point when I get less money?' No. No and no. Get a job. Get a shit job like everyone has had to do at some stage in their life. Figure out the child care and after school care. Work something out like other people have to. Can you imagine if everyone had that attitude? There would be NO payments because there would be no one paying tax. 

Not everyone on Newstart is one of these people, I get it. But you know what public outcry? There are fuckloads of them that are. I SEE it everyday in the hospital. People who can afford to drink grog everyday and buy illicit drugs but are on a welfare payment. People who are more than able to work but 'don't see the point' when they can get free money from the government. People who are earning almost as much as I am when I am, when I am shaving years off my life working night shift to look after those 'less fortunate'.  Being on the dole never used to be a lifestyle choice. It was something that you hated to do and were embarrassed by, but did until you got another job. It was a back up plan, not a first option.

Yes, there will be people that fall through the cracks. That's democracy unfortunately. Not everything will work for every member of society. And that's unfortunate. Will the amount of able bodied people being forced to actually get of the butts and get a job outweigh those who fall through the cracks? You bet. And if we had a government that actually had half a brain between them, the money saved would be filtered back into employment programs, mental health programs and homeless programs to help those falling through the cracks. If we had a government that actually listened to people and cared, they wouldn't have an ulterior motive to use work for the dole as a cheap labour source for their big business friends. But that will have to wait until next election.

Anyway, rage away kids. I honestly welcome your opinions as long as they are logical debate. I REALLY want to see why there is such outrage at this proposition.

Cheers,

Qld Nurse

I hit the dreaded number today....

The big 3-oh. Dirty thirty.

You know, when I was 15 and thought about who I'd be when I turned 30, this was not what I thought life would be like. I don't feel 30. Well, today in particular I feel 50, because this spawn of the debil (aka the future ruler of the world as we know it) growing inside of me is still giving my guts a hard time; but in general I don't feel thirty.

Like for example, I was a little bit disappointed that I was having a 'zero' birthday and couldn't get write-myself-off schnockered. I was a little disappointed that I didn't have a million and one Facebook messages from people I barely knew saying the obligatory "Happy birthday!" I felt a little inadequate, that I organised a dinner in a nice quiet restaurant, for 10 people.

I look back at photos of me in my early 20's and wish to Bacon that I'd seen how gorgeous I appear to my now 30 year old self. I think about the masses of friends I had back then and compare them to the few good friends I have now and wonder where they went. I look back to the times that I used to be able to hit the clubs until 4am but still wake up at 8am feeling like I could take on the world and wonder what the hell happened to that chick.

Then it hits me. I really AM 30.  Because none of those things really matter to me anymore. Suddenly having 'drinking buddies' became less important than having friends you could cry with over a loss of a child.  Having a quiet night in instead of a massive party where I have to clean up vomit & dread the photos being uploaded to the internet is kind of, well, a relief.

It's just funny how priorities change & you don't even see it happening really. How life goes on and it's not until you stop and go 'holy snapping duck shit, where the HELL did the last 10 years go and who am I?'

I loved that today, I got to wake up to the love of my life, who made me a quiet breakfast then we played with our dog. I loved that I didn't have to worry about being a host to a 100 people who were probably just going to get drunk and trash my house anyway. I loved that I am starting a family and my thoughts have been on buying baby things rather than alcohol.

I think the main thing I've learnt today though, is that growing older isn't a bad thing. There was a lot of bad shit that happened to me in my 20's. I wouldn't be the person I am today without it happening, but it wasn't fun to experience and you couldn't pay me enough to go back to those years & do it again. Why do we as a society (in general) fear getting older? Why was I clinging on to the fact that I'm not the person I was 10 years ago? I like who I am now. I feel like I'm a completely different person to the woman I was only a year ago.

And that's ok.

Don't get me wrong, I still wish I could have a night of party & not pay for it for 3 days afterwards, but the other stuff that comes with getting older is so much more worthwhile.

So happy 30th birthday to me. This year I genuinely feel like I am actually another year older & another year wiser.

Cheers,
Qld Nurse

So this pregnancy gig is hard....

I read a blog the other day about the lies we tell each other as women. How we say we love being pregnant, that you forget how much labour hurts, that your body will snap back etc....

.......and what a crock of horseshit it is.

I almost high-five'd the screen. Then I cried. I do that now.

I'm almost 20 weeks pregnant. Almost half way. And I can tell you right now, it's been the longest 5 months of my life. I feel shit. I'm still spewing at least once a day. When I'm not spewing, I feel like I'm going to spew at any second. I'm exhausted ALL the time. Everything hurts. EVERYTHING. Including my teeth & gums because I'm pretty sure the stomach acid is eating them both away. My boobs have a mind of their own as do my tear ducts. Any form of exercise makes my stomach turn, and yes, for those thinking it, that does include sex. Just to give you an idea, I've spent today in my pyjamas alternating from the couch to the bed, all with a vomit bag in handy reach and a box of tissues to wipe the snot streaming out my nose because I'm crying so hard. That's been my day off, and I promise you that it's not a one-off.

I don't feel radiant. I feel sweaty, fat, sick and a little bit over this whole pregnancy thing. You know the 'pregnancy glow' people talk about? Yeah, well mine is either a layer of sweat from heaving, or if you're lucky it could be a little leftover throw up. THAT'S my pregnancy glow fucker. And to add insult to injury people keep saying to me 'wow! you're not even showing yet!' which I take to mean 'gosh you were so fat before that even with the weight you've lost you just look the same now.' Cue tears. So now I'm crying as well as sweaty, fat & sick with possible vomit in my hair or forehead. Sexy right? I have no idea how my husband controls himself, I really don't. A weaker man for sure, would crumble.

It started with fertility treatment - that made me vomit, cry every day for 3 weeks, gave me abdominal cramps like period pain having period pain & all round made me feel like shit. But it worked! I got pregnant! There was a whole 3 or 4 days where I was feeling amazing. Like my husband and I were the smartest people alive & there was absolutely no one in the world who ever got pregnant before us. That the pain had been worth it, because we were now growing a human.

Then the spewing started. And get this - I was happy. HAPPY. Because it meant the baby was alive. Having suffered a miscarriage, I was pretty keen to have any notice from the parasite living within me, that it was in fact, still sucking the nutrients from my body.

That happiness lasted about a month. Hell, it was even a running joke that my feet would hit the floor in the morning & the gagging would start. We laughed, and laughed & I would throw up from laughing too hard. The cleaner at work busted me singing the song of my people one morning & it became a new way for us to bond. It was funny.

Then it stopped being so funny. "It will get better after the first trimester" they told me. "It eases, it really does" they said. Then the 1st trimester came & went. 8 FUCKING WEEKS AGO ARE YOU LISTENING BABY?!?

Then "well mine ended around the 15-16 week mark". Well see ya 16 weeks. It's now almost 20 fucking weeks. 5 months of never knowing when I may just perform a multi-colour yawn wherever I happen to be at that particular time. 5 months of not going out to dinner because I may as well just straight up flush $50 down the toilet. 5 months of getting excited when I don't spew one day only to make up for it and spew ALL day the next day.

You add into that, the fact I do 12 hour shifts & I'm a mess. I'm not gonna lie to you. I'm a god damn mess. Call it hormones, call it exhaustion, call it me being a first class whinger whatever. I'm over it.

And I feel so guilty about feeling over it. SO guilty and ungrateful. If I lost this baby I would be inconsolable for sure. I wanted to raise a kid so badly & when I thought I couldn't have kids it devastated me. That's the key though isn't it? I didn't want to be pregnant, I wanted a child. I wanted to raise a family. Pregnancy is just  (one of) the ways to do that.

So I've decided today that I'm just going to wallow for a little while & stop feeling guilty about it. Because I don't want to be pregnant, I want to have a child. I want other women who feel like shit, to be able to come right out and say "you know what, I hated being pregnant too!" I'm not going to lie to people and say that I love this. I don't. I fucking hate it. I hate being pregnant. There. It's said.

When my midwife puts this baby on my chest for the first time, I'm sure it will all be worth it. Right now though, right now I'm going to sit here, bitch & moan, and not feel guilty about it. So there baby.

Cheers,
Qld Nurse.

When is enough, enough?

*Warning - this post talks about sensitive issues including suicide & euthanasia.  It is in no way a judgement & I welcome intelligent debate. Any trolls or personal attacks will be deleted.

Ok. *Deep breath*.

At Uni, we as nursing students are taught the benefit of reflective journalling. A place to talk about our day & what we think we did well, what we didn't, maybe some issues that patients bring up within ourselves. After all, we work in a pretty traumatic area. "I've seen shit man!"

I've generally just debriefed with other nurses or my husband. But consider this my reflective journal. Please note - I will not mention names or specifics in order to protect the privacy of the patients I will be talking about.

A few weeks ago, I had a patient that really got to me. Now, in critical care, we get a lot of attempted suicides. Sad, but we do. Most are overdoses, some are hangings, a few we get are physical trauma such as cutting themselves etc.  As a general rule, most of these people survive because IMO they weren't trying to die, they were calling out for help. I find it incredibly sad, that people have to go to that level before people will listen to their cry, but generally when we extubate them, they are remorseful & willing to get help.

This particular older lady, who had been living with a chronic illness, WANTED to die. The things she did to herself were shocking and I almost cried on several occasions. She was not messing around, she was not calling out for help, and my heart absolutely broke that someone would be in such a deep, dark place, that they were able to do that to themselves. It was something off a horror show.

It reminded me of another patient who was riddled with Cancer, he had been through a ridiculous amount of pain to try and rid himself of said Cancer, and it had gotten to the point where his body had given up. However, his family wanted to keep fighting. Despite the fact the doctors had told them there was very little chance he would survive. I felt like I was torturing this poor man by performing care. I hated myself.  These type of patients stick with me and I occasionally think back and wonder when enough is enough?

I'm talking about Euthanasia. Her chronic illness has no cure, she had lived a fairly full life, she'd had enough. He was not going to survive his Cancer, yet had to go through the indignity of losing control of his body and being kept alive by a machine until his family decided enough was enough. Not him, his family.

Australia - it's time we talk about this. We talk about abortion, we talk about child abuse, we talk about murder and yet, we cringe when the big 'E' is mentioned.

We as a healthcare system seem so intent on saving everyone. We prod, we probe, we do palliative surgery & put people through hell when unfortunately, they are going to die. We are all going to die at some stage - it's inevitable. So why do we have no say in when this happens? If you're living with chronic pain, there's no cure, then why can't it be a case of sooner rather than later? Sure we have a few palliative care centres here and there. Are they adequate? Not really.

Now I know there's many arguements on each side of this debate. I have a firm belief that people who are anti-Euthanasia because we 'shouldn't be allowed to play God', have never watched a love one suffer so incredibly until finally they can take no more. BTW if 'God' was as good as you think he is, why does he make good people suffer in the first place? Most stupid statement there is. It's not an arguement because there's no logic to it, it's a statement and a stupid one.

Yes, it has the ability to be misused. Depression is classed as a chronic condition, and as someone who's been in that dark space where you don't see any other out, I'm glad euthanasia wasn't around. But can't we put safe guards in place to prevent that? People need to be psychologically screened before they're allowed access - if you're in a depressive episode, you can't make legal decisions anyway because your judgement is impaired.  Sure, there will be some people who will slip through the cracks. But as it is there are people doing that. Look at the suicide rate! At least with some counselling we may save some lives.

Doctors can make mistakes. But can 2 or 3? When they all reach the same conclusion?

Technology is changing constantly and there are scientific breakthroughs all the time. Yes, that's great. But for some people, it's not happening in their lifetime. So we should make them sit and rot internally because in a few years there might be a cure?

It makes me incredibly sad. Why are we so afraid of letting people decide when they've had enough of this life? In the end, we have the autonomy to decide whether we seek treatment for chronic illness. At least with Euthanasia, you have the ability to choose a time, place, who will be around and you can get your affairs in order. As opposed to being kept alive by machines because your family don't want to let you go & your body being too weak for you even to protest. Or having to buy drugs illegally from overseas & die alone because your family could be charged & jailed if they have any idea what you're about to do.

I know if it were me, I would hate to not be able to move and have to have someone clean me up because I'd lost control of my bowels again. I would hate to be too weak to talk to my loved ones & tell them the things I always wanted to say. I would hate to have to watch my loved ones faces, as they saw me slowly fading away to a person they didn't recognise anymore. It's not pleasant, and the outcome is always the same. So I think we should have the right to choose.

Anyway, please feel free to comment, tell me your story, let me know what you think.

Cheers,
Qld Nurse.

Pregnant Woman Rant ahead

Seriously, language and hormone induced anger warning.  Look away. I said LOOK AWAY!

I am currently 12 weeks pregnant after undergoing some fertility treatment. Yay! I am having quite bad all day sickness because whoever called it morning sickness was probably a MAN who only ever saw his barefoot pregnant wife in the morning before he left to have AFFAIRS with his WHORE I'm sorry please don't leave me alone I love you!

Despite the fact I may scream "WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT FROM ME BABY?" through a stream of snot and spit while hunched over Percy the Porcelain, I am quite ecstatic to be pregnant.  Even more ecstatic that we have gotten to the infamous 12 week period and I was able to see a head (only one, phew!) and a heartbeat on the scan this morning.  I'm also aware of why I'm so sick because baby decided not to sit still for one second.  There was no photographic evidence but I'm pretty sure it's because she was swinging on my intestines. Also, I know it's a girl because it just is, and don't argue with me because I'm pretty sure I could stab you and get away with it on the hormone defence OKAY?

So I thought I'd spout some gems of wisdom that I have learned in my 12 weeks of being pregnant. i.e. I will rant about things that piss me off because hormones and hunger and constipation.  Right.

1.  Everything is a competition

EVERYTHING. Either people brag about how much sicker they were than me, or they brag about how little they had. Then they brag about their natural, drug free labour or they brag about how horrible their labour was and how super humanly they were somehow able to survive it and I should worship their every word on pregnancy.  They brag about how little weight they put on, or how much they put on and how hard they worked to lose it. Seriously, I don't care. Every pregnancy, every baby and every labour is different and when you asked me how I was I genuinely thought you wanted to know. If I'd been aware that it was just a way for you to bridge into your life story I would have just answered with 'fine thanks'. I apologise. Also, you are not the first or last person to have a baby and whatever you've done is not special - look at the internet and see the millions of others that have also done whatever you've done. So take your vegan, organic, yoga, home birth story and shove it up stage 4 torn ass. I don't want to hear it right now. Thanks.

2.  People who don't immunise their children should be placed on notice of having their children removed

Because they are obviously too stupid to raise them properly.  I haven't even had this child yet, and I am harassing every family member to make sure they are up to date on the whooping cough, flu and measles vaccine at the very least.  Vaccines don't cause autism, they don't cause birth defects, they cause children to NOT DIE FROM PREVENTABLE DISEASE. Fair enough, if your child has a severe allergy & you have it under great medical advice that it's not appropriate for your child to be vaccinated, great. But you should  make DAMN sure everyone else around your un-vaccinated child is done. In this day & age, I refuse to enter into an arguement on why you shouldn't vaccinate your kids, because as Mark Twain said 'never argue with idiots because they'll drag you down to their level & then beat you with experience.'  I do not understand parents who don't want to do absolutely everything in the power to prevent their kids from suffering and dying. If you give my child a disease because they're too young & you're too stupid, I will do a Liam Neeson on your ass. I promise. #vaccinateyourkidsstupid

3.  There's so much wrong with the world

It's depressing. Inconsiderate, rude, ignorant dicks who seem to be breeding at a phenomenal amount, with their stinky offspring just waiting to taint my precious future ruler of the world with their bigotry & bullshit. The worry about whether my child is going to grow up to be a serial killer is always there in the back of my mind and the fact that they will be socialising with children who RUN IN FUCKING SHOPPING CENTRES does nothing to quell said fear. The world is going to hell in a hand basket kids.  Bacon help us all. But more importantly Bacon help your kid if it so much as whispers a bad influence into my child's ear. Because I will be an absolutely amazing parent who raises the best child who does nothing wrong and that's my story and I'm sticking to it and if you tell me anything different I will cry so shut up!

4. Everyone's a fucking expert

Do you know how many articles are out there pretty much outlining that I am going to kill/damage/disable/severely fuck up my baby? I read an article telling pregnant women not to have Paracetamol. Panadol FFS. Because it causes autism. Are you fucking kidding me? Like we don't have enough guilt as mothers, then there's these arseholes out there making us feel guilty for not 'soldiering through' a headache. Oh and ultrasounds, as well as C-sections! Oh an make sure you limit X, Y, fucking Z because it causes X, Y, fucking Z. Well you know what? Fuck that. If this fertility struggle has taught me anything, it's that I have limited control over the baby situation. I can eat as healthily, exercise, avoid teratogens, whatever and it will still have limited impact on what is a process we don't fully understand because the baby gods will do what the baby gods will do. And that's coming from someone in the health field! Unless you have some scientific evidence in the form of millions of double blind trials and the recommendation of the world's experts, then keep your opinions (and that's only what they are without evidence) to yourself. I already feel guilty enough about EVERYTHING so take your judgement and jam it up your clacker bitch.

So that's my pregnant lady rant. I do not guarantee there won't be more to come. Please feel free to add your rants into the comments section. I will most likely virtually high five you, because that's the mood I'm in right now. I may cry about it tomorrow. Who knows! My poor husband is playing emotional bingo lately, but I think he likes it. Keeps him on his toes, no?

Cheers,
Qld Nurse.

Not sure what is worse....

So, um, the fertility treatment worked. Yep. I'm pregnant. I have spent the last 22 days since the positive pregnancy test waiting to miscarry, but it hasn't happened yet. Praise Bacon! We went for our first scan yesterday and I saw the tiniest little heart beating of the thing growing inside of me and I felt.... well.... sick.

Mostly because that's how I've felt for the last 3 weeks. Violently ill. I don't feel pregnant, I feel like my boobs are going to explode at the same time my stomach does.

And anxious. Oh the anxiety. I know i'm not the only person who has miscarried in the world, so I'm putting it out the to the universe, if you are one of the lucky ones who miscarried and then went on to a healthy pregnancy, hit me up. Tell me how you coped, because the next 7.5 months are looking mighty long when all I can see is waiting for the cramps and baby dying thing to happen.

I don't know what was worse - the waiting for a positive pregnancy test, or the complete guilt every time I do anything at all. I vomit salad, I keep chips & gravy down. I feel guilty for not eating well. I had some post mix coke to try and quell the nausea, caffeine. I felt guilty. I lifted something at work. Guilt. I'm even working at all. Maximus Guiltimus! Every single thing I do, I'm wondering if I just killed the baby.

I'm getting the feeling though, that this is it. Like literally this will be my life from now on.

The guilt and anxiety never go away do they? I have a sneaky suspicion that once the kid is born (fingers, toes, eyes and legs crossed it IS born) it will in fact, get worse. That every single thing I say to this kid will potentially screw them up and that in 19 years I'll be sitting watching the news and my kid will come on surrounded by a SWAT team. That the thing that I just fed them that wasn't wholefood organic with a side of anti-oxidants, well that just gave them diabetes.  That because I had to go back to work to financially give them a life, the emotional scarring means they will never recover and spend a lifetime alone, smearing lipstick on their face screaming "do you love me NOW MUMMY?"

Seriously, what the hell is this? Is it hormones? It is the maternal instinct everyone talks about? Or has the lack of sleep and absorbed nutrients finally eroded my brain to the point that my level of logic has disintegrated?

Cheers,
Qld Nurse.

Fuck you womenz

So I'm subscribed to Mamamia.  I'm getting a bit sick of the shit they post to be honest. It's turned into a bit of publicity bullshit grab and I don't like it.  Mia Freedman kind of annoys me and I'd love to work for them simply so I could antagonise her (oh and not clean shit off the walls) but I digress.....

I continue to click on their crap though, so colour me guilty.

But ----> this http://www.mamamia.com.au/parenting/fitmum/ post really shit me to tears.

For starters, in case you've come across this blog due my absolutely unexpected nerve hitting piece "Tony Abbott, you're an arsehole" found here http://qldnurse.blogspot.com.au/2014/02/tony-abbott-youre-asshole.html (which thanks for everyone's input, glad I'm not the only one who's a big fan of the term 'douche canoe'), I'm having trouble conceiving another human being.

So the fact, that ANYONE who CAN conceive another human being without trouble, feels they have the right to criticise anyone else who can conceive another human being, is pretty much worthy of being castrated (or have a hysterectomy - I'm a nurse not an idiot I know biology) in my opinion.  THERE.

WHY THE FUCK do women hate each other so much?  Seriously?  I'm not sure, but I think I graduated high school (quite) a few years back and the backstabbing bitchiness stopped there.  But apparently I am wrong, as a wimenz I am subject to the backstabbing bitchiness that apparently comes along with being a wimenz. My question is why?

Now, before I was a Registered Nurse, I worked in Construction. Sexism aside (I once had a Site Manager say that a construction site was 'no place for a woman') I loved loved loved working with blokes.  Because this is how it went.

Them: "You fucked up."  Me: "Yep, sure did." Them: "Fix it. Don't do it again.". Me: "I'll buy a carton this Friday". Them: "Sweet".

Then, it was forgotten!  Holy mother of Bacon!! (If you're confused, please refer to my earlier post where I clearly indicated I was a Minister of the Church of Bacon and no, am still not ashamed. I will ordain your marriage in the Church of Bacon if you wish #praisebacon).

So here's my issue.  Working with the wimenz.

I recently found out, that the wimenz that I used to work with over 3 months ago, were bitching about me changing my Facebook privacy settings so they couldn't see everything I posted.  I did this a while ago and apparently I'm 'such' a good friend they've only realised now.  So, instead of coming to me personally, these wimenz decided that they would bitch about me to someone they knew was my friend, knowing this conversation would get back to me and I would somehow respond.  Well you know what wimenz? FUCK YOU! If you're upset you're not getting my information on Facebook, text me! Call me! Get the information from the source directly.  Don't bitch about me behind me back.

Re: the crap mamamia article. Wimenz - stop being bitchez!!!  Yes, I am writing with the z's because I feel like this subject is so stupid and outdated the new technology needs to be adapted just to highlight how stupid we as wimenz are.

Why? My question is why? We have so much pressure from pretty much EVERY other area, to be better than we are, more than we are, better looking than we are, better mothers than we are, better WHAT-THE-FUCK ever than we, that can't we just do the sisterhood a solid and get each other's back for fuck's sake??

Seriously, you're now bitching about other wimenz not exercising enough with kids? Seriously? Like for serious? As in the real world?

When I finally do get to become a mother, I will spend (possibly) a week or more in my pj's doing nothing but stare at my new born child.  If you don't like that, FUCK YOU.  There is 0 possibility of me dragging my (apparently, I just gave new life to another human being, but whatever) fat ass to the gym and leaving my miracle of a being alone while I squat my 'tight ass buns' at the gym.  Because you know what? I JUST GAVE BIRTH TO ANOTHER HUMAN BEING SO SUCK IT!!

And you know what wimenz? You probably just did too!  So shut the fuck up!

Raising children is HARD. Like ridiculously hard! And I have this sneaky suspicion, that if you're more concerned about what the women next door is doing with her 'saddlebags' than you are with your child's next smile/laugh/giggle/burp/bowel movement, then you are doing parenting WRONG!

So shut the hell up!!

Next time a friend comes to you saying that she feels fat and unloved, tell her she GAVE LIFE! Which isn't easy to do.

Next time someone tells her she isn't losing her 'baby weight' as fast as she wants, ask her about how her kid is doing.

Next time your friend says her husband says her body isn't the same since she gave birth, tell her to nut punch him.

Stop being bitchez! Let's support each other hey?  Geezus.  Is it seriously that hard??

And Mamamia - YOU. Stop writing deliberately inflammatory crap under the guise that you are all feminists working towards bringing the sisters together. Because THIS crap is NOT doing that. We are all aware you are simply doing it to get clicks on an article. SO STOP. Bad Mamamia. Bad!

Love,
Qld Nurse.

Tony Abbott, you're an arsehole.

Hi Tony,

You're a douche canoe.

When you said that some people earn too much money, I'm sure you didn't mean nursing staff.  Because I'm nursing staff.  And I ASSURE YOU, I earn every single fucking dollar I earn.  Like my tweet said, if you came to me in hour 10 of my 12 hour night shift and told me that I was 'earning too much' I would probably kick you fair in the nuts and then continue on with the rest of my shift on autopilot.

For starters, when I worked on the Neurosurgical ward, I got spat at, kicked, hit, punched, abused and had to deal with people painting the walls in their own faeces.  So I'm sure that when I was on an early shift earning my $30.3526/hr which included showering, feeding, changing pads, walking, dealing with family/friends/doctors/physios etc etc. you didn't mean me.  I'm SURE.  Because when I got home from my early shift (for those in the know, that means NO penalty rates) and couldn't move from the couch because my back hurt from physically moving several people from a bed to a chair/tilt table/regency and I couldn't feel my feet from being on them for 8 hours straight, I know you didn't mean that I didn't earn my dollars.

Now I work in Critical Care, and it doesn't matter what shift I'm on because I run my ass off no matter what, I'm 100% sure you didn't mean that I didn't earn my dollars.

I KNOW that on Sundays, when the cleaners got paid more than me and all they had to do was vacuum floors and change linen skips while I was juggling the life of at LEAST 8 people instead of enjoying a weekend with my new husband, that you didn't mean that I didn't earn my dollars.  (PS I love you cleaners, you make my life so much more bearable and please don't hate me for trying to make a point, I heart you.)

Because here's the thing.  I never went into nursing for the money.  I'm 100% sure that no nurse EVER goes into the profession thinking 'hey, I'm gonna retire when I'm 30 from the $ i'll be making'.  No one. EVER.

Nurses, want to make sick people feel better.  Nurses, want to make a difference in people's lives.  I've been doing this shit for almost 5 years now and I've been told maybe 3 or 4 times 'Really, thank you.'

You know what sucks?  Those 3 or 4 times, make it worth it.  I do what I do, not because I have a HECS debt that I'm not gonna repay until i'm 105, not because I can tell people that I save lives, not because EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY someone tells me thanks.  No.  I do what I do, because I love it.  Sure, the money isn't fantastic. It isn't terrible, and I get penalty rates.  But guess what Tony, I earn those bloody penalty rates.  I don't go on a fucking charity bike ride sponsored by whoever and claim that shit back on the taxpayer's dollar.  I work on weekends.  MOST weekends. Because people don't get sick between the hours of 9am to 5pm Monday to Friday.  I have to book my holidays over a year in advance because everyone is so burnt out and we are so understaffed that we are only allowed a certain amount of people on holidays at one time.

I don't say it often enough.  I don't even feel it often enough.  The amount of times I've thought to myself, "I can't do this anymore." "This is killing me." "Why do I do this?" "No one even cares."

But you know what Tony A-Butt?  I do what I do because it make a difference in someone's life.  It may not pay the best, it may pay the best. Whatever.  It still makes me a better human being than you.

Because the taxpayers pay my wage, and I give back to them.  Unlike YOU.  Who are taking, and making a mockery of the system.

You earn 10x more than what I make and what have you given to the Australian public? SFA that's what.  What you need to realise Tony is that you too are a public servant.  If you make a decision that 'isn't going to be popular with the public' then you probably shouldn't do it. Because the public voted you in to do what was best for them.  So if the 'general public' don't want it, then don't fucking do it, you wanker.  YOU work for US.  The same as me.  The same as all the public servants who are earning the minimum wage, that you lovingly think is too much.

Hey Tones, can I call you that?  I feel like because my taxes are paying you, we are on a nick-name kinda basis.

Tones, here's an idea.  Instead of cutting back on things like Australians benefits that they are ENTITLED TO, how about you look at your useless Minister's wages and cut back on that shit. Because the way I see it, if you think that the rest of Australia should be paid on a performance basis, your dickwads of pollies should be too.  If they don't perform, they should be subject to the same kind of scrutiny that the police/fire/ambulance/nurses/ALL PUBLIC SERVANTS are.

YOU WORK FOR US TONY.  Don't forget that.  You've pretty much pissed off the entirety of Australia with your backflip on policies.  So how bout you do us all a favour and do what you were elected to do, and stop flipping us all the bird.

Yours sincerely,
Qld Nurse.