The first of many, I hope

Hi there.

If you're reading this is because I shared it with you and you know most of what there is to know about me, but in case you just randomly found yourself here, I will tell you a bit about myself and how and why I came to be writing this blog .

Im 25 years old and had a baby boy last year. I live with my husband, baby and cat in Auckland. I have a degree in journalism and also a primary school teaching degree, and hope to use both of them in various ways again in the near future, but for now I'm a stay at home Mum- which is awesome boring happy sad crazy exciting busy tiring challenging and rewarding jobs all rolled into one- certainly the hardest job I've ever had to do so far! I have a close family who I rely on very much and an inner circle of friends who I let into my private world but most of what I am going to write about is known only by me. After I had baby, I developed post natal depression which led into an anxiety problem. I have probably always tended towards depression and anxiety in the past, but have always managed to stave it off with exercise, life changes, working towards goals and surrounding myself with good people, so it was never that much of an issue, I just knew I was a person who had some really low times, but who also had some really happy times and was mostly content in life too. When I was pregnant, I think it was the happiest time in my whole life. I had wanted a baby so badly, and worried I wouldn't be able to have one as he certainly wasn't a one hit wonder if you know what I mean, he took nearly a year to grace us with his presence. It was so much fun to plan a future for this child, what he would be called, what he would wear, what he might be like, who he would look like, and decorating his room and preparing to welcome this child into our family and into our hearts. So as you can imagine, to not feel estatically happy when he did arrive was something of a shock. But to be fair, my forray into motherhood was a bit of a shock too. 4 weeks before baby was born I developed high blood pressure which led to potential pre eclampsia, so I was on standby in those few weeks to maybe or maybe not be induced during that time, which was stressful. Luckily bub arrived on his own two weeks early, in a hurry like his Mum always is. My birth was wonderful, I get tears in my eyes thinking of it. For the first week, he was a delight, I felt so happy and complete, he slept, fed well, and I warmed with glow at the mere thought of him. But in week 2, feeding issues kicked in. He started refusing to breastfeed, and fighting, pushing me, scratching and screaming. I dreaded when the next 3 hour mark rolled around having to feed him again because I knew what it would be like. I perservered with that for 8 weeks, and it was like that for 7 of them. It was soul destroying, I felt like I was failing at the one thing I was supposedly naturally able to do- and the one thing that was supposed to be best and healthiest for my baby. I remember crumpling on the floor in floods of tears and a panic attack at 3 or 4am many a time, having been up with a screaming hungry baby for hours. There were days when I didn't want to go to sleep, because I didn't want to wake up and do it all over again. Then the reflux kicked in- which involved force feeding my baby medicine twice a day and cleaning up his spills off myself, him, and the floor and anyone else who got in his path at a never ending rate, forcing a bottle in his mouth to get him to drink. And the screaming. He basically screamed whenever he woke up, whenever he was with someone who he didn't want to be with, whenever he was tired (a lot because he would never sleep). I kept asking myself, when comes the point when I'm happy? When comes the point when this is everything I ever imagined it would be, where I get the glow of new parenthood, gushing that this is the best thing I ever did in my life? I felt completely isolated as peers I was talking to seemed to be having such a better time of it, and the more I talked about my feelings the worse I felt about them- that they were just not normal. I had days where I hid under the covers in bed trying to block out the screaming baby, days where I just broke down and cried, days where I just stared into space because actually thinking about it all was just too hard, so I didn't want to think about anything. But it wasn't all bad don't get me wrong. I still felt an overwhelming love for my baby, he was always my first priority, and still to this day can not get over how beautiful, clever and genuinely lovely he is. But there were also days I wanted to run away and never come back because I just didn't know what else to do. The only time I felt remotely ok was when I was with family, when there were other people to help me, even though I was the only one capable of settling him, I still felt better if there was someone to support me.

As time went on, and I got worse, I finally reached out to my GP who put me on antidepressants. She also noted that I had developed a lot of anxiety around things like not wanting to go out in case the baby screamed and I couldn't comfort him, dreading times of being alone at home with him in case he screamed all day or wouldn't sleep and I wouldn't be able to help, feeling like everyone thought I was a bad mother because of his problems, not wanting feeding time to come, not answering the phone in case someone asked me how it was all going. I also felt as if everyone was criticising me and everything I did with him and I panicked about what people might think of me. I was too scared to go to a coffee group in case all the babies behaved and mine didn't. Basically I had myself tied up in knots most of the time.

The antidepressants helped me get onto a more even keel, they didn't make me estatically happy but they made me feel even, steady, like I could cope with life a bit better. They were like my crutch, I had to do the work but they were helping me to do it. At times as I have gone on I have had to increase the dose, usually when something stressful has happened.

Over time things have massively improved. We got on top of the reflux slowly and discovered it was being caused by a milk intolerance potential allergy. Once we found that out, within 2 weeks on hypoallergenic formula we had a different boy who now doesn't really have reflux at all. He is an extremely friendly, smiley, happy baby who loves to play and loves the people in his 'inner circle' who he trusts, and loves to talk. He is rolling, crawling and working on pulling himself up to stand. He is a bloody clever baby and he amazes me every day, he really is one in a million, a 'piece of work' as I often say, but the best thing that ever happened to me. So I must have done something right along the way and I feel proud of myself that I managed through all the haze to make sure he was happy, healthy and loved and settled in his life. He was always and still is always my number one concern.

But along this journey we seem to have had a lot of other stressful things happen, such as having to move house, conflicts with family members, juggling to afford everything with baby's medical bills and the rising cost of everything, and my own mental health being better or worse at different times, and my husbands own adjustment to fatherhood and trying to support me through these things. For the most part I feel good but every now and then the old feelings surface and I am left with an anxiety problem, where I worry about a lot of things, things that may never happen but also might. I get panic attacks if things get too much. I was doing well for months and recently had a setback, and so I have decided to take a different course of action from here on in.

And that leads me to why I am writing this blog. I am now having counselling to sort out my anxiety and it was suggested to me to write out how I feel. As I love writing and it comes naturally to me, I jump at the chance as I feel I have been wasting that talent since not working as a journalist anymore. So I'm still on the medication for now, but my plan is to write write write, and to exercise, set goals and move forward and on from this experience. I am also trying to lose the last few kgs of baby weight and was doing really well but got off track during my recent setback, so writing things about it on here will hold me accountable to someone which is very motivating for me. Im also looking into a potential way to use my writing and work from home, more on that as it arises, and am seriously considering going back to part time teaching next year. I feel that as much as I love being at home and being with my boy, full time home life doesn't suit me, I need to be active, busy and using my brain to be the best I can be in all areas of my life. So I think if I work 2 days a week, and am with Noah for 3 I get the best of both worlds. I don't think he will suffer for that as he will be with his Grandma and Grandad who he just loves, and I wil be in a better place emotionally but also easing things financially=less stress and anxiety too.

At this point in time with everything I have been through I'm not sure if I'll have another baby. I used to want 4! I think in time, I will, but it will probably take a long time for me to feel ready to put myself forward for potentially the same experiences all over again. However in saying that my boy and I are very close, we went through all this together, we have a strong bond and he's never far from me.

So yeah, that's me. Long I know! I will be writing how I feel, I'd like to say every day, but probably every few, and just about things that happen, my opinions, anything. So feel free to comment or to add me to your own blogs so I can read the inner workings of your mind as well, hehe :)

Bye for now