I read an extremely interesting article this week that has caused me to be mad at today’s society (just for something different).

In this article (I encourage you to read it) it talks about how society STILL has such a strong influence on whether babies are breastfed or formula fed.

The article talks about how society STILL asks the question of whether a mothers baby is a “good” baby. The article states “Our culture pushes the idea of the mythical ‘good baby’. Mythical good babies don’t act like most babies. They feed at set spaced out time points, sleep through the night and need little interaction. Research shows that most babies tend to feed often, wake at night throughout their first year and being kept close is a basic human need. But we still persist with asking new parents whether their baby is good, and tutting when we hear about normal baby behaviour as if this tiny person needs punishing.”

I 100% agree with this! I found everyone would ask if Matilda was a good baby and honestly how the fuck was I supposed to know!? This is my first baby, I haven’t done this parenting shit before. How was I supposed to know if what my child was doing was the norm? How long are “good” babies meant to sleep for? Is it meant to be easy to get them to sleep? Do “good” babies feed perfectly and easily every time? I found myself saying yes because it was easier than getting the 4,000 questions that followed if I said no.

Regardless of my answer the next question would be “Is she feeding well? Breastfed?”

The article goes on to talk about how majority of breastfed babies do not act like the mythical good babies. They feed often and irregularly as well as wake often, unlike some formula fed babies who tend to fed more to routine and sleep for longer periods of time.

This is where I get confused with society. Everyone talks about how breastmilk is much better for the child but yet routine is what babies love. Breastmilk density changes throughout the day so babies tend to fed irregularly and they’re sleep patterns can be different. So how can a mother have a set time routine AND feed her baby Breastmilk? Breastfeeding already stressful as fuck. There is nothing else in the world that can cause the anxiety that breastfeeding does for some mothers. So why do we as a society add to that anxiety by asking questions that are in fact none of our business?

My breastfeeding journey is one of the more uncommon stories.

Before I had Matilda I was of the mindset that breastfeeding would just come naturally. Bubs would just find her way to my breasts and our journey would begin. Simple as that. My boobs got huge, so obviously I assumed that meant they were full of milk so would be so simple for her. Matilda was delivered instrumentally (forceps) as she was facing sideways, which meant the forcep had gone straight across her face and mouth. The poor chook was in pain. So when we had our skin to skin and started to get her on the boob the second anything touched her mouth she would scream. It was so heartbreaking to watch. However, my boobs were leaking colostrum. The first hour after her birth I was able to fill so many syringes with it, so the first night thats how we fed her.

The next morning we attempted again, with no luck. She would scream as soon as she got close to my boob. It was upsetting me so much. I felt like it was all my fault. I felt I was wasting my nurses time as I felt super rushed every attempt – like they had somewhere more important to be. Yet I was still leaking everywhere. So I continued to hand express. Being taught how to do that I so strange. It was awkward for me and Im sure (although never showed it) it was awkward for the nurses teaching me.

I had no idea if Matilda was receiving enough or too much. She cried. If she wasn’t asleep she was crying. The next day I had a nurse that introduced me to something I had never even considered or thought of… pumping. With a machine. She brought it in and showed me what to do. And boy did I get some milk out!! Holy hat.

She suggested to help with both my anxiety and Matilda’s that we pump for the rest of the weekend until the Lactation Consultant was available on Monday (I know right, cause babies are never born on weekends and theres no breastfeeding issues on weekends).

Monday morning came and I saw the Lactation Consultant and you wouldn’t believe it but Matilda latched. Like she had done is a million times before. My appointment with the consultant was over in less that 5 minutes. I left the hospital thinking that my baby was going to have no issues feeding and it would be a breeze in from here.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

She latched that evening at home. Yet my sister in law rang and asked if we needed anything before they came around. I asked her to grab me some formula just in case my milk dried up overnight. Thank the lord for that because at 3am there was no way Matilda was latching. She was screaming, I was in tears, I couldn’t even hand express any milk out I was that distressed. My poor husband was watching a meltdown. He suggested the formula and eventually I gave in. We had NO IDEA what we were doing. We were reading the instructions and both of us in our stressed out state were like “what the fuck is cooled boiled water!!!” “How do we cool down boiled water fast!??” Locky ended up ‘you tubing’ how to make a bottle of formula. Looking back, as stressful and emotional as that night was, it makes us laugh now.

The next morning I woke up and felt like I had failed my daughter by not being able to give her breastmilk. I started researching hospital grade pumps like I had used in hospital and found that my local chemist stocked them (I live in a small town with one chemist). I rang at 0800 on the dot as soon as they opened and asked if they had a pump, sure enough they did. I think I was at the chemist by 0804. The girl who served me was amazing. Literally my angel. She explained everything to me, what products I needed, what was useful and handy little hints. I came home and researched more. I started pumping and boy did some milk come out. My first pump provided me with enough milk for the day.

All of a sudden I was no longer stressed about feeding my child. I felt a weight had lifted off me. I joined a group on Facebook full of mums who had exclusively pumped before and they provided me with so much information. They explained how often I should pump, how I could store the milk and handy tips to make life easier with a newborn.

Pumping was bloody tough! Every two-three hours for at least half an hour each time. I had to time it so that I could do it while Matilda was sleeping because there was no way I could hold her and pump at the same time. I was attached to a machine like a cow. It restricted me to the house. I felt I couldn’t go anywhere without taking all of my pumping gear with me.

It got exhausting. Matilda was sleeping through the night but I was still having to wake three hourly to keep my supply. I would explain this to people and their responses made it so hard. The most common response I got was “Why don’t you just put her on the boob?” Every time that was said to be a part of me would break. Did people not think I had tried this? Like I hadn’t been trying everyday since she was born! Or I’d get “Why don’t you just go to formula then?” but then that was always followed with “Breastmilk is so much better for her, you just need to keep going with it, for her benefit”.

This is when I would get the shits up at people. Want to know whats best for my child? BEING FED and having a HAPPY MOTHER. I was formula fed, I have friends that were formula fed and we all turned out fine.

I could never please everyone, people had opinions about me pumping and others had opinions about me not pumping. And they would be more than happy to share those with me.

When I decided (after 7 months) to stop exclusively pumping and start Matilda on formula many people were shocked saying how easy I made it look and why would I want too?

Why?

Because I wanted to be a human again and now a cow. I didn’t want to have to hook up at the diary daily. I wanted to spend time with my daughter. I didn’t want to find somewhere at work where I had to set up all my pumping gear. I wanted to be normal again.

As a society we need to stop putting this pressure on Mothers (especially new mothers) to conform to the beliefs of what is socially acceptable. Its 2019. We need to embrace and support mothers on their journey.

Instead of asking if their baby is a good baby, ask what you can do to support them and make the journey easier.

As I stated in my “About Me” section I was never really passionate about writing or blogging, I think mainly because I had no idea what it was or how to do it. I never excelled in English or creative writing at school or really any subject at school – except Home Economics (bitch loves food) so I believed I wasn’t smart enough to do so.

I would describe myself as someone who as a lot of opinions about a lot of things… some educated some not, but my biggest struggle is articulating how I feel or what I believe in. It’s like I’m missing some sort of path from my brain to mouth that stops me for sounding smart. But by hell I’ll still say what I think!

I’m a person who doesn’t give a fuck about what people think of me but at the same time I want to know what people think of me – do they like me? Do they agree with me? Do I want to impress them?

Ya know? I feel I’m not the only person that sees them self this way. Surely there are others around who don’t care but do care.

And that there is half of my battle.

I strive to be the best dam version of myself to others because I believe that’s what makes me feel like I have my shit together.

I go to work and work my arse off (most of the time) so that people can see how hard I work.

I make sure Matilda always looks prepared and clean at daycare so that the other parents and day care teachers think I’m the shit. And if she wasn’t I’d make up some excuse – usually blaming locky yet he’d have nothing to do with it.

I go to bootcamp and try and beat everyone else so that I look like I’m fit as fuck (but in reality I’m dying inside and my body is aching).

I have confidence in my body yet get super depressed in how I’ve let myself go and have so many floppy bits and get dispirited buying clothes because I never know if they were going to fit. Yet I still buy them and hope for the best.

I am confident that my friends love me for exactly who I am but I seem to have become the fat friend – or atleast I see myself as that.

This type of self perception is exhausting! I’m well aware of what I’m doing yet so far I haven’t done a damn thing to change it. I mean I read “The subtle art of not giving a fuck” and stopped a quarter of the way through because I couldn’t handle the swearing… and I have a vulgar mouth. Maybe deep down I just didn’t want too change my way of thinking….

It wasn’t until the start of November when a group of guys I work with started their Movember campaign.

They were amazing with how open they were about their own mental health and struggles that it made me for the first time in a long time stop at look at myself and my mental health.

I realised I was burning the candle from both ends. The shit that seemed so insignificant in my mind was in fact really play on my mental health. My stress levels were ridiculous. I would get worked up about things at work that had nothing to do with and they would keep me up at night. I felt I had lost complete control at work. Constantly checking my work emails to see if I had fucked things up. The paranoia got to me.

On top of this I then started thinking about how I was becoming a terrible mum because I was always so focused on work. I would get major mum guilts dropping her off at daycare (even though she absolutely loves Daycare) so that I could go to work.

I’d get home and be trying to do housework and preparing dinner that I wouldn’t have anytime left to just play with my daughter.

If I did have the time I would end up just lying on the couch absolutely emotionally exhausted.

It became a spiralling black hole in my head.

Yet everyday I’d put on a brave happy face and head into work.

One day I was more fragile than usual and I have a male colleague ask if I was ok…. I was not… I started crying to him. The poor guy.

But he was amazing. Listened to me. No judgement. I instantly felt better letting it all out. It was at that moment I realised I needed to sort myself out. Focus on myself. Change my way of thinking. No longer be a person who doesn’t give a fuck but be a person who gives a fuck about themselves.

So here I am. Giving a fuck about myself.

These blogs will become my outlet and one strategy I plan on using to help better my mental health. And of course share my amazing journey with the one and only T-Dog

Xx

They say when you forget your labour that’s when you’re ready for your next baby…. 

If that’s the case, then I’m not having another for an extremely long time. 

I understand for some that childbirth is this beautiful and magical experience. For me, the complete fucking opposite. 

Having gestational diabetes meant that practically from the get go I was going to be induced at 38 weeks due to bubs size. So mentally and emotionally I had myself ready. The day came where I had my bags packed, hubby had taken time off work, mum had come and taken time off work too, our dogs were being taken care of, everything was ready to go! 

We arrived at the hospital patiently but eagerly waiting in the waiting room. The doctor finally calls my name, takes me into a small room to tell me that I had been cancelled. 

Words cannot even describe the disappointment and emotional confusion that was going through my body at that time. I walked out and had to tell my husband we had to go home and come back tomorrow. Honestly even to this day I can remember the sickening feeling I had in my stomach. I really hurt. I was finally ready and I was so done being pregnant. We drove home in silence. I couldn’t even tell you what I did for the rest of the day. Probably cry. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I got up exhausted but again excited. I get to the hospital; again in the waiting bay I get taken to the small room and then eventually taken to the labour ward to start my induction. I’m there an hour. I get moved to the Mid floor. In a 4 bedroom room with 3 other women and they begin the induction there. After a few hours things began moving so I was moved back to the labour ward. I was in excruciating pain! I decided to try the water injections first (my original plan was to have no opioids HAHAHA). Fuck me! They were the most painful and weirdest things I have ever had! They legit took my legs out from underneath me. I will NEVER have those again. I will never recommend them to anyone. And anyone who did have them and thought they were ok. You have balls of steel! I applaud you! 

Come morning I had hardly even dilated. So you wouldn’t believe it but I was moved AGAIN back to the mid floor. That night was taken back to the birthing suite for a balloon catheter to again be moved back to the Mid floor. The following morning I was again moved to the labour ward. I was exhausted and the actual birth hadn’t even started! Finally things started progressing and by this time I was already done. Epidural / gas / pethidine give me all the drugs. And by having these drugs I wasn’t moving back to the mid floor. 8am this all started…. my epidural didn’t work properly and ended up making the right side of my body dense. I was useless. And to make it even better bubs had turned making it impossible to birth her without turning her internally. 

There’s an experience. 

3 times.

Finally I was done and asked for help. I needed this bub out before I completely shut down from exhaustion. 

The nightshift Obstetrics Registrar (yup public hospital – I’ll talk about that later) was fantastic within 10 minutes of him coming in to assess me I was being moved onto a theatre trolley.

THEN GUESS WHAT! 

A code was called elsewhere. All hospital orderlies were gone leaving my midwife and my husband to push my trolley to theatre. I was greeted by a very abrupt nurse who I learnt was going to be my aneasthetic nurse. She wanted this case to be over and done with! As I was wheeled into the anaesthetic bay and greeted by the anaesthetist I experienced the strongest contraction I had had. We decided the best option was to take my epidural out and redo with a single shot spinal anaesthetic. Before this conversation had finished, the nurse was trying to sit me up, I asked if I could just finish the contraction to which the anaethetist agreed. She threw the heart rate monitor leads into my bed and stormed out. I was left in the room with my student midwife (bless her) and the anaethetist. My student midwife opened equipment for the doctor as well as providing comfort to me. 

I remember the exact moment the spinal went in! The pain I had been in for hours was gone. I cried. I was so happy to not feel the pain anymore. 

We went in – I still dont know where my Anaesthetic nurse was. Locky told me afterwards she sat on a chair against the back wall. 

The rest was a blur but there are a few things I remember

1. The doctor telling me to push
2.  “pass me the scissors”
3. “get the Bakri Balloon in the room and have it handy”

I then remember being told she was out and hearing the remarkable cry. I could see her being carried over to the cot and being looked over. I then had a doctor who had been scrubbed come up to me and say “you’re next baby will most likely be a Caesar”

“Wow oh thank you so much”

I was then finally able to see my baby and yes it was definitely love at first sight but Jesus she was a weird colour and her poor face was so squished. My heart so was full but hurt at the same time she looked like she was in pain. I just wanted to be off the operating table so I could hold her properly- it was like my maternal instincts had kicked in. 

I was finally able to hold her close to me, skin on skin, to love her unconditionally forever. 

My best friend was born. A grand entrance into the world. And magically on a day where her birthdate is the same forwards as it is backwards – 7 10 2017 . 

Matilda Jayde Smith

It then came time to breastfeed. 

It seems that was not an option for us. And our exclusive pumping journey began. 

This is how our pregnancy journey began….. 

My soon to be husband and I were one week off getting married… ONE WEEK… when a conversation (or more argument?) in the car started. Locky was complaining about how he had to go back to the Police academy and yet another weekend had gone by where I hadn’t been, you know; in the mood. My response: “I just don’t want too so close to being due for my period” the typical gross him out and he won’t ask again response. 

“WHAT! You mean to tell me that 2 weeks ago when you were meant to have it, you didn’t actually have it?” 

That is when I started wondering ;

1. Was I actually due 2 weeks ago?
2. When did Locky pay more attention to my cycle than I did? Is this something all men do? 

At this stage I still wasn’t even really worried about the first option. My body was always spot on with her cycle so clearly it much by locky who is wrong. On the way home we decided to pop into the supermarket while there I said to him “oh I’ll just grab a pregnancy test, they’re on special so might as well.” Just as we got home Lockys mother called him so I figured perfect time to go pee on a stick and prove him wrong (and so I didn’t have to put out). I walked out and left the stick sitting nicely in the loo, Locky was still on the phone. I walked back into the toilet 2 minutes later squealed and yelled “FUCK!” To which Lockys response was “WHAT! Is it a spider?” “NO IT’S WORSE!!” I ran out to Locky with the stick where the words PREGNANT 3+ weeks were screaming at me on the little screen. 

“Mum I’ll have to call you back”

We stood there for what seemed like a ridiculous amount of time until Locky asks me “should we hug or something?” I immediately wrapped my arms around him but still in a state of shock. How could I be pregnant? I can’t be pregnant! I’m getting married on Friday! I just collected all the alcohol for the wedding!” 

My mind was a complete scrambled. I googled the likelihood of have a false positive because I just could not bring myself to believe that I could be having a baby. 

I/we had so many plans for the next 12 months, our wedding a mini honeymoon while saving for our big trip around the states at the end of the year. My career had just taken a massive step in a positive direction and I had for the first time in my life felt financially secure. I felt as though my entire life as I knew it had just completely blown up in my face and my controlling, planning mind could not compute. 

I went to work the next day where I told one person… that one person that preceeded to help me take 5 pregnancy tests…. all in the one day…. every single one read positive. So I did what any normal adult would do and googled close by GP’s. 

I booked an appointment for that afternoon, I remember walking into her consult room and sitting down where she then asked me what she could do for me. I simply sat there and said “I think I’m pregnant” she asked if I had taken a test as she was grabbing a urine specimen jar for me to which I responded with “yes 6” she laughed and placed the jar back stating there was no need to do another then. Asked me my last period date and gave me a referral for an ultrasound in 5 weeks time. I walked out in shock still. That’s it? Now I just wait and keep my mouth shut… yeah something a massive gossip like myself would struggle with! 

Yet somehow I managed too. I think I pushed it to the back of my brain after all I had a wedding to prepare for. Fuck. 

How is a typical millenial supposed to hide the fact she’s not drinking at her own wedding? 

The night before my wedding I told my two best friends who were also my bridesmaids so that they could help keep the secret on my special day – obviously by drinking every glass of wine that was given to me. To which they did an excellent job of. 

I somehow managed to get through the day without too many people noticing (I think). We then embarked on our mini moon to Bali. Yup Bali. Cheap cocktails. Bulk sun. Questionable food. 

Bali and the morning sickness was bliss….

Recommend it. 

However coming home with our little gifts for our folks to announce our pregnancy was exciting! And giving it to them was one of the most fun things I have ever done. My heart was so full seeing them realise they were all about to become grandparents. 

It was this moment I became excited to become a mum. 

We then had the ultrasound and seeing that tiny little blob (to which We referred to as a gremlin) made it all become real and excited to share with the world. 

I have to admit the first couple of weeks were tough but after that looking back at it pregnancy was actually really easy for me. Even though I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes I never really had any issues; no back or pelvic pain, no morning sickness (except early on), I was able to get comfortable at night, and had no food aversions. Soz to those mums who had a horrible pregnancy! But don’t worry I know my next pregnancy will be nothing like this!

The months dragged on and I had one VERY active Bub cooking along nicely. 

Then the 7th of October 2017 came around…