Worry monkeys

The worry monkeys come at night,
They creep inside my brain,
They wait until I'm sleeping tight,
Then wake me up again,

They toss my worries in the air,
And make me feel quite nervous,
They tell me that life isn't fair,
And all I do is worthless,

I worry about everything,
That could possibly go wrong,
I feel like such a weakling,
When really I'm quite strong,

In the morning I feel drained,
Rather than refreshed,
Those worry monkeys in my brain,
Won't let me get my rest.


Anyone else had this problem?

The worry monkeys overwhelmed me when I had PTSD & I literally could not close my eyes. Luckily for me counselling & meds really helped, my worry monkeys are being controlled.

What do you do to get rid of yours?

Love to hear from you - comment below or Twitter @newmumkaboom

Newmumkaboom x

Representing! Baby dolls for boys

Not really a list more of a catalogue of what I did when faced with the question do I buy my boy a doll?

So, my little man is starting to engage in small world play and I was faced with the question - Do I get him a doll? Now the husbands immediate response was obviously NO. However, I managed to talk him around pretty swiftly after explaining as a 'new man' he had changed as many nappies as me, so why is it strange if his son has a baby doll? At which point he started to relent. I went on to explain that small world play brings on a wealth of routine language which otherwise boys can miss. (This can also be achieved with teddy but I did not tell my husband that)We change the baby's nappy, the baby goes to potty, we feed the baby etc. 

Now I had got the husbands agreement, with the caveat that we were to get him boy baby doll, I set about looking on google for said doll. (By the way, now I am well into recovery from the PTSD, shopping is a fun, leisurely activity rather than that frantic, obsessive type of shopping! As discussed in previous post here.

I decided that if my boy was only getting one doll, we should get one that:

- looked like him 

- one that represented his origins

- I'm South American and my husband is white 

- so I needed a doll somewhere in-between

Here I ran into the first problem, most baby dolls in the UK are white, dark brown or black. He is none of the above so I:

- searched for mixed-race dolls and drew a blank

- searched in America - again nothing

- then I found an American thread which advised looking for a hispanic doll.. bingo! I found this gorgeous baby doll.

 

Now this baby doll cost me £25 and took weeks to come over from the states, it was also quite small when it arrived but I felt it was worth it, to give my son a doll which he could relate to. One which he could feel close to & which he could bond with. 

The day it arrived I unwrapped it with excitement and handed him his new baby. I carefully showed him how we put the baby to bed, and hug and kiss the baby... after 5 mins of small world play, I looked at him feeling super happy with myself. At which point he chucked the doll in the corner, picked up his train and his power toys and tore off round the living room shouting, "train, hammer, train, hammer, hammer, train".

BLOODY MEN!

What My Hubby did..

So we left the hospital, me in a wheel chair and my husband carrying our new baby in the carrycot. I know, not the scene you expect when leaving hospital with your newborn. Anyone who has read my blog knows the birth did not go to plan and left me very weak, hence the wheelchair.

Much fun was had trying to get the carrycot strapped in correctly, many expletives later we were all loaded safely into the car. My husband turned to me and said 'I feel like we are stealing a baby!' We both looked at the tiny little man in the back of our car, the whole thing felt completely surreal.

This was a theme that continued when we got home. As we tried to get to grips with this new parenting lark, things descended into some kind of nightmarish farce.

I had read a book which advocated feeding on demand and was determined this was the right path to take. However, this was definitely a bad idea for us, I was incredibly weak and our baby fed every hour and a half, all day and all night. I was like a walking zombie after the first few days.

Because of the (as yet undiagnosed) PTSD my body was constantly on high alert and I was unable to sleep. Even when my husband took the baby for a walk, I would be shaking with exhaustion and still I could not sleep.

And instead of sleeping what did I do? Did I rest? Did I watch television? Did I knit? No, I compulsively shopped online (that was the PTSD again). I bought every little thing in the world that might save us from this horrendous situation we found ourselves in. I felt like - If I can't runaway maybe I can shop us out of this mess of constant feeding, overwhelming exhaustion and general WTF have we doneness.

A few weeks into the randomness hubby gently explained that we could start using bottles for some of the night feeds. He cleverly said it would help him bond with the little man and so with some trepidation, I agreed. No one mentioned what a pain in the arse that was going to be, sterilising, cooling, warming...we had just added yet another layer of crap to do, arghhh!

A few days later my husband opened the door to another delivery (he was already concerned I was shopping too much after we received a christmas card from the John Lewis delivery guy!) and now in front of him was a fridge, he looked at me with confusion. 'But we already have a fridge darling' he said through gritted teeth.. I calmly and rationally explained that we could use this fridge in our bedroom, to keep the milk in, so we wouldn't have to keep going downstairs to get milk, as I was worried one of us might trip and fall down the stairs.

Now up until this point hubby had been worried, he had shown concern, he had been incredibly patient accepting delivery after delivery of shite while wondering what the hell had happened to his wife, who seemed to have taken leave of her senses.

He explained to me that putting a great big, noisy fridge in our room would not help me to sleep. Now he was no longer patient, he was running his fingers through his hair, he was saying he couldn't understand my actions, he was appalled at the appearance of a fridge (in my defence it was a small fridge).

Things got dark between us, there were tears, snot and strong words were spoken. I just couldn't see a way back from this, I felt like we were falling apart, then he said 'hon, I think you might be very unwell, I have been reading up on your symptoms and I think maybe we should go to the doctors.' Then he held me in his arms, while I continued to sob big, snotty, sobs into his jumper, realising he was probably right, thanking my lucky stars that he was my hubby.

After the first diagnosis he downloaded a book called Surviving Postnatal Depression and read it cover to cover, after the PTSD diagnosis we researched together online. He told me that in some of those stories the couples didn't stay together, but that we would, because this would make us even stronger.

Through it all he supported me and his little boy every step of the way. He learned about what was happening to me and why, he came home early from work whenever he could, he supported so many of my choices throughout my illness and recovery, he took me to my first counselling session, my baby massage classes and he looked after our little one, so I could rest.

I still thank my lucky stars everyday that he's my hubby!

P.S. My husband just read this and asked me to add that the fridge is now a beer fridge in the garage - so all's well that ends well.

Understanding Postnatal Depression and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

I have heard lots of Mothers saying their partners, families or friends do not understand what they are going through. In an attempt to clear this up I have created a little blog:  

Please tick the statement you believe to be true:

Women with PND or PTSD

a) are finding motherhood difficult

b) are overwhelmed by the amount they have to do, now they have a baby

c) have a chemical/ hormonal imbalance which makes the simplest of tasks seem insurmountable, their world seem dark and their feelings out of control and confusing

I want you to imagine that someone has secretly gone into your brain and tinkered around with the wiring. Imagine they have turned off your ability to rationalise, to hope, to be happy and to love.

Now imagine you have been given your dream job. You knew the job would be demanding, with long hours and that there would be very little or no training. However, your coping mechanisms that should kick-in are non-existent. You are mentally incapable of enjoying the job, you cannot feel happy around other people and you begin to feel things are hopeless. You begin to think this job was the wrong choice and yearn to be back to your old self.

You start to feel extremely anxious and guilty that you are unable to cope with this new job. You worry that people are judging you and that you are not up to the task. You cannot understand why your unable to respond to the situation as you would have done before the re-wiring. You feel weak, confused, distressed and alone. You feel like no-one understands you, how could they? You do not even understand what is happening yourself. You feel the only option is to quit, escape or go back to a time before the job, when you were able to feel happiness, hope and love.

Now imagine that dream job is having and looking after a new baby. Imagine you have been left physically weak and mentally drained from the birth and now you have a small life in your hands. Imagine there is no escape, no rest and no recovery time. Imagine you cannot rationalise, feel hope, happiness or love. This is a glimpse of what Postnatal Depression feels like, it is very real and extremely terrifying and very hard for the person suffering to fully understand.

If a mother has also experienced a traumatic birth, where the baby’s life or her life has been threatened, or where medical intervention or a lack of care has taken place, she may also develop Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

It is thought these illnesses occur due to an imbalance of chemicals in the brain. At a time when the mother desperately wants to feel happy and loving, she cannot. At a time when she wants to enjoy this new family unit, she cannot. These feelings can last for weeks, months or years. It is vitally important that she feels supported by the people around her, this support will aid her recovery.

Women affected may experience some or all of the following symptoms:

Postnatal Depression

•    anxiety

•    panic attacks

•    sleeplessness

•    extreme tiredness

•    aches and pains

•    feeling generally unwell

•    memory loss or being unable to concentrate

•    feelings of not being able to cope

•    not being able to stop crying

•    loss of appetite

•    feelings of hopelessness

•    not being able to enjoy anything

•    loss of interest in the baby

•    excessive anxiety about the baby

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

•   exposure to a traumatic event 

•    nightmares

•    flashbacks

•    psychological distress

•    negative mood

•    altered sense of reality

•    inability to remember important aspects of the event

•    attempting to avoid symptoms and reminders of the event

•    problems with concentration

•    sleep disturbance 

•    hyper-vigilance

There are simple questionnaires, which can be carried out by a medical professional, to diagnose PND or PTSD.

Runaway a mothers journey through the darkness

Runaway

Can’t believe I want to run,

That I don’t want to be a Mum,

I need to leave him safely here,

Deal with my guilt and hurt and fear,

What an awful person I am,

Things are not going according to plan,

I hate myself for feeling this way,

So numb, so desperate, so very grey,

I wish I had had a crystal ball,

Unveiling the grey to reveal all,

That given time I would feel love,

And I would begin again to feel good,

That I would realise I was very unwell,

Down to the way the fated cards fell,

On that day he entered this earth,

And slowly again I would feel my worth,

The light would begin to brightly shine,

And I would finally feel that he’s mine,

And I would no longer blame myself,

For all those strange feelings that I had once felt,

This illness it made me feel so cold,

His birth made me feel so very old,

But my youth has returned and with it my light,

And I am so glad I chose to put up a fight,

The journey’s been long the fight has been hard,

I have been left bruised, battered and scarred,

But I will use this to help you to see,
Even though now you might not believe me,
You will feel like the person you were before,

You will be strong and feisty once more,

You will again laugh, dance and smile,

And you’ll share all of this with your beautiful child.

2 years on from PTSD

So My little man is about to be 2 years old.

Back when he was tiny I remember people saying to me 'enjoy it, it will rush by and you will miss that baby stage." I remember very clearly thinking, "you're all completely mad!" How anyone could think those first few months were lovely was beyond me. I was exhausted, anxious and stressed. I felt incredibly guilty for desperately mourning my old life and just couldn't see a time when I would enjoy being a Mummy.

These feelings were so far removed from what had expected to feel. Just before my son was born I would buy baby magazines dreaming about how wonderful it would be to choose his little outfits, to teach him things and to dance in the mirror holding him. I identified with the shining examples of motherhood emblazoned on the covers of these magazines.

After I had had my son, I was sure that I had been lied to. I hated to see those same magazines and felt completely duped. I found those first few weeks and months horrendous. I know now that it was worse because I was so unwell and that the PTSD had fogged my mind and was making me feel everything in a heightened state. When people would tell me how much I should enjoy him I felt like punching them... If only I could enjoy him!

But as the fog cleared I began to feel those trickles of love, his first smile made me smile, his first laugh made me laugh and the first kiss made me melt. The fog lifted slowly and my confidence began to return and I began to feel a little more like myself. As my son grew older people continued to tell me that I would miss that baby stage. However, I shocked people with my response, the more confident me would simply say "No I won't... it was shit!" I would usually qualify this by saying how much I enjoy him now, how I love teaching him things and how I adore dancing around the living room with him. But I have to say I have never picked up a kids magazine since he was born... maybe it's time to cross that bridge too.

Oh how we laughed through the tears

So just a quickie today ... just to say, I have mentioned the stupid amounts of blood, the anaemia, the leaky boobs, the lack of oxytocin, the cracked nipples, the sleepless nights, the anxiety, the scaremongering, the frantic shopping, the PND, the PTSD, the wee bag and catheter (maybe I didn't mention that - but who wants to hear about going home with a tube dangling from you like a female willy?)

But did I mention the tearing? The stitches? The fact that I had to sit on a children's blow up beach ring for weeks to even be able to sit down? And some lady has to come in and examine said stitches every week. Prudishness is a no, no after birth! Oh how we laughed... well actually no I didn't laugh. I sobbed into my dark space through the shame of it all. I wanted to crawl into the corner and let the ground swallow me up. I desperately wanted to go back to the sassy thirtysomething that I had been before all this had changed me forever.

But just so you know, I look back now and kinda laugh a bit. I mean the whole thing is absurd. Why we go into birthing thinking it will be a lovely experience and that we can all do it naturally, I just don't know. A broken arm heals naturally but we don't go in and say "Please no drugs, my body is a temple." If our child breaks their arm we wouldn't dream of saying "No drugs for him, please. We wouldn't want the little mite to feel dopey."

Seriously, well done to all those of you that did it naturally. I am pleased for you but also seething with jealousy inside We who did not have that experience had it a bit ruff, so please, let us take the drugs next time, if we want to.

A story of recovery from PTSD

Here is bit more of a sentimental overview of the story so far...Can't be cracking jokes all the time!

My husband & I were so happy to hear we were 6 weeks pregnant at our first scan.  

It was really early days so we kept things to ourselves,

I was adamant I would not get too excited as I knew the statistics. 

But as the weeks passed our hopes & dreams grew,

So we told our parents, grandparents, our brothers & sisters & we told our closest friends,

At the next scan I was nervous,

As they scanned I held my husbands hand tight,

The silence during the scan unnerved me… so I held tighter,

I willed her not to say those words… and then I heard them,

I’m sorry… I can’t find a heartbeat,

I looked up and saw my husband’s heart breaking,

He held me close as I sobbed.

Then I phoned my mother & I heard her heart break for us. 

We went home to an emptiness & a sadness.

I thought a thing like that would break me. 

And although I was very sad I reminded myself of all the things I still had

And after a few weeks the sadness started to lift. 

My friends who knew were amazing, I told others friends too, 

For me, having their support helped me to heal

My husband & I decided to really enjoy the time we had together,  

We booked a trip to Thailand

We became even closer as a couple & we got through it 

And 6 months later .. I became pregnant again! 

We were happy again, but anxious

After our 20 week scan I started to believe we would really have a little baby, 

I got really excited

When my waters broke I was calm

My labour was long & things were not straightforward.

Our baby’s heart rate started dropping, 

When I finally pushed our baby out he made one tiny choked cry & then he stopped

They rushed him away onto the resuscitation table

It seemed like an emergency as lots of people in rushed into the room

I didn't want to lose this baby, I felt like I was breaking inside,

I couldn't hold him, & no-one could tell us what was happening, 

Something inside me closed shut,

And then he was laid on my chest,

He was warm, he wasn't crying but he was wriggling

I heard them distantly telling me: ‘Your baby is fine he just needed his airways clearing’

But something in me didn't believe it. 

I was very unwell after the birth, I could hardly stand so I was kept in hospital

I now know the hospital let me down very badly, because they did not have enough staff

We had to fight to get the correct care for both me and our baby

In those first few days I whispered guiltily to my husband ‘I don’t feel how I should about the baby’ 

He told me it was probably because I was feeling so unwell 

He re-assured me that the feelings would come and that they sometimes take time

I went home hardly able to take care of myself let alone my baby

My parents came to stay, 

Everyone helped as I could not stand for long, as I was so poorly 

The anaemia often overwhelmed me & I felt scared that I might drop my baby or fall with him

I had a hugely heightened sense of anxiety 

I felt that something could happen to him

I became obsessed with making him & everyone around him safe

The guilt, that I couldn't care for him, started to consume me

Everything seemed grey, 

I sometimes thought everyone would be better off if I walked away,

I wished we could go back to how things were before, 

Now life seemed so difficult & tiny things, like leaving the house with my baby, filled me with dread

I did not know how I had become this fearful person when I had previously been so confident

My husband was amazingly supportive & loving even though he was exhausted. 

He had taken on a huge amount of the responsibility along with my parents,  

But even he seemed lost as to what was happening to me or what to do

Others thought I just had the baby blues & that I’d come out of it,

In between, we had all the usual visits from the all the grandparents, aunties, uncles and family

I would go through the motions of being a new mummy

I cuddled him, cooed, smiled at him, 

As I started to get physically better I played with him, sang to him, 

Slowly, very slowly, trickles of emotion started to seep through

But it was not really me, 

Before he came along I was a loving, sunny, caring person

I loved children & babies, 

Everyone expected me to skip into motherhood

I could not marry these dull feelings with the feelings I had before him

Weeks passed & the feelings still didn't come but the anxiety & the guilt grew

My symptoms didn't fall into normal postnatal depression

But then one day I started to cry

I didn't understand what was happening to me

I couldn't understand why I didn't love something I wanted so much

I cried each time my parents left as I worried about how we would cope without them

My Mother was my rock & I felt I needed her constantly

Then one day, when she was leaving, I cried all day

I knew something was very wrong

I went to see my GP

I was diagnosed with Postnatal depression

But the medication they gave me made me worse, I seriously contemplated running away

I didn't want to see anyone or go out of the house

Life seemed even greyer, darker, I felt really scared

Luckily I continued to confide in my husband

I told him how I felt & he told me to stop the drugs

Then I saw a psychiatrist & he diagnosed me with Post-traumatic stress then everything began to slot into place. 

The trauma I had experienced over the last year had caused this

The symptoms all fitted

I didn't want to go on drugs I thought I could fight it now I had a name for it

I thought counselling could get me through

But try as I might I just wasn't getting any better. 

Eventually, I was put on the correct medication, 

My whole body relaxed, my mind began to relax and I slept!

After much soul searching, we employed a night nanny

My parents continued to help with everything 

A close friend began to help out too

One day as I bathed my son I thought about the people around me, 

my son had grown incredibly close to his grandparents,

He had bonded with his daddy, 

He was happy to laugh & play with our night nanny, 

He had a new wonderful aunty in the form our my close friend,

At 8 weeks old he had a circle of love around him

I too had that circle of love, 

I was taking each day one step at a time, 

But each time I did something new I felt a bit better, 

My friend accompanied on shopping trips with my little man, 

My Mum went with me the first time I took him in the car, 

My husband worked part-time so he could be with us whenever he could,

I started to feel better, 

I started to think things would be alright, 

Then one day, after I had bathed my son, 

We were alone together as I dried him & put on his cream. 

I smiled down at him as I always did.

And I felt it… that huge surge of love for my little man, 

I wept with happiness & showered him with kisses.

My little one is now 15 months and amazing!

He is such a sunny, happy chap, 

We have bonded so well, in fact, the first thing I taught him was how to give kisses

I am completely back to my old, confident, bubbly self.  

I feel incredibly close to my son & privileged to have him. 

And we are lucky enough to still have the same wonderful circle of loving people around us

If this helps just one person I will be happy!