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.