The Mum Reviews

Hope and the jumping bean

I was inspired to try my hand at a bit of fiction by One Frazzled Mum’s writing in response to The Prompt linky on Mum turned Mom. This week’s prompt is hope. Please be gentle with me. I haven’t tried to write fiction since I was about 12. This is completely made up and not autobiographical or about any real person.

Hope stands at the window looking at the driving rain. She loves being indoors in her warm home while rain batters the window and the branches of trees bend in the wind. She cracks the window open and takes a breath of the air that smells of dry soil stirred by raindrops.

The rest of the house is silent and empty. She walks to the sofa and picks up her phone. No messages. No notifications. She opens up her Facebook app and starts scrolling.

All of the usual stuff is there. A friend from school who works as an estate agent has closed on another mansion. Political posts. Someone baked a cake. Someone else is on holiday. Several people have adorable children.

Hope checks her watch. Another ten minutes has passed. Some people think she’s old fashioned for wearing a watch. Most people just look at their phone. If she did that, she would have lost her phone a hundred times over. She checks the time a lot. She lives by the clock.

She hears the key rattle in the lock and feels that familiar little jump of happiness in her chest every time her other half comes home. It mixes in with all the nervous flip flops that were cavorting in her stomach and makes her feel sick again. As her partner, Peter, walks in the door, she rummages in her handbag for a piece of gum.

“Oh finally you’re back! We’re going to be late,” she says, anxious and distracted at the same time. She finds the pack of gum and pops a piece in her mouth.

“We’ve got plenty of time!” Peter says brightly. “Are you ready to go then?

Hope smacks her gum loudly and gives him a look. “What do you think?” Then she stands up, grabs her coat and walks purposefully out the front door to get in the car. Peter follows.

The radio blares loudly when the car is first turned on. Hope loves listening to the radio on full blast. An Ed Sheeran song is playing. He’s one of her favourite artists, but not today. She quickly changes the channel, then pairs up her phone to the sound system so she can choose what music she wants to hear. Maybe a bit of Iron Maiden. Aggression and no fear.

Hope sits in the car with her hand on her stomach. She can’t feel anything really. Just like last time. She has felt just exactly the same as last time all the way through. A little bit sick. A little bit hungry. A little bit like her bra is becoming too small. Does this mean that it would happen again?

She had told her friends this time. She wasn’t waiting for this appointment. Last time it was harder to tell them when she was already grieving. When they couldn’t understand why she disappeared for a while. Why she was so sad – and is still so sad. Nothing is ever going to bring back what was lost, even if today brings good news.

Peter parks the car and they walk across the car park, through the sliding doors, up the two flights of stairs and down a long hallway. They enter a small waiting room and Hope walks up to the counter.

“I’ve got an appointment at 1:15,” she tells the receptionist.

The receptionist is distracted, doing twenty things at once. She asks, “Do you have your notes?” Hope hands them over. The receptionist takes them. “Take a seat,” she says.

Hope and Peter sit down on the hard plastic seats. There aren’t any magazines in the waiting room. Just various health-related leaflets. Hope ignores them and tries to check her phone, but she doesn’t have any signal. She grabs Peter’s hand and he squeezes hers in return. They wait in silence for what seems an eternity.

A woman calls Hope’s name. Her stomach jumps, flips and ties itself into a knot. Her eyes start to black out a little bit around the edges and she feels lightheaded. She has to take deep breaths to stop herself from total panic.

Hope and Peter follow the woman who called her name into a darkened room. “Right,” the woman says, “just lie down and lift up your top, and we’ll go ahead and take a look.” Mercifully, she doesn’t ask any other questions or say anything else.

“This might be a bit cold,” the sonographer says as she squirts gel on Hope’s stomach.

Hope holds her breath as the sonographer probes her stomach with the ultrasound wand. She pushes the wand into her stomach and Hope hears nothing. She moves it again and again. Hope takes a deep breath and then holds it some more. She closes her eyes tight.

Then, a swishing noise. The sonographer smiles and turns her screen to where Hope can see it. “There we go,” she says, “you take a look while I just take some measurements.”

Hope’s eyes fly open and she looks at the screen. She decides to hold her breath some more while the sonographer draws little lines on the screen with her mouse.

“Everything looks fine,” the sonographer says. Hope breathes out and finally allows herself to look – really look – at the screen. She sees a little jumping bean, full of life and potential.

If you’ve been affected by the issues in this story, please check out Tommy’s for support.

PND and believing you deserve to get help

Recognising the problem

I’ve been procrastinating over writing this post for a while. I’m hoping to publish a series of guest posts on parental mental health, which I’m kicking off with my own contributions. I’ve published my story of anxiety after having my first child, and a guest post on new mums and mental health generally.

But this post – the story of the PND I experienced after my second child – is the most difficult. World Mental Health day is on 10 October and it’s given me a kick up the rear end to share this story. I’m not sharing it to get sympathy, but because of the fact that I doubted myself. I doubted that I was sick enough to get help. I thought I ought to just get over it.

There is a huge problem in our society in which mental illness is not taken as seriously as other types of physical illness, including within the National Health Service. It is well known that there is not enough help for mental illness on the NHS. It is not clear what help is available and much of the help that is available sits at the top of a long waiting list.

On top of this, many still feel that admitting to struggling with mental illness carries a stigma. This is particularly a problem for women suffering with postnatal depression.

“What if they think I’m a bad mother?”

“What if they want to take my baby away?”

“What if the medication means I can’t breastfeed?”

My story

For me, I was not worried about the stigma, nor intimidated by the difficulties of getting help. It was taking myself seriously that was the problem. I didn’t even realise that I needed help.

I was over the moon at the birth of my second son. I had a natural birth – the thing that I’d wished for and had eluded me with my first. I was also happy that with the second child, I felt that my family was complete. I did not enjoy pregnancy and was incredibly happy to know it was finished and I never needed to do it again. And of course, my son was beautiful, as babies always are.

It’s hard to say if there were any number of factors that contributed to my PND. My baby spent time in special care for feeding problems. Some other things happened to friends and family that upset me, and then we had a house guest that came for a week and stayed for a month. My son was born in November, but by the time February rolled around – that darkest month of the year – I was in a dark place.

I spent every day on my sofa crying. I wasn’t even sure what I was crying about. I felt insecure. I didn’t want to leave the house. Also, I felt so incredibly angry. My older son, who was about 3 years old at the time, was having some difficulties getting used to having a baby brother and that was affecting his behaviour. So he was a little more challenging than usual and I was less equipped to deal with it. I used to bite my bottom lip so hard to stop myself from shouting and exploding with anger. It seemed like my bottom lip was permanently stuck under my teeth. I felt guilty for being angry with my son.

It took me a long time to take my feelings seriously. I blamed myself and my own lack of self-control for the feelings of anger. I called myself lazy and weak for not wanting to leave the house. I felt foolish for feeling sad so much of the time. I had everything I wanted, so what excuse did I have to be sad?

I didn’t think there was anything a doctor could do for me. I thought I just needed to grow up and deal with it. Having a baby and a young child is hard work. I thought it was par for the course. And I kept suffering.

And then one day a leaflet dropped through my door. It was for Ieso Digital Health, an NHS service that offers Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) via secure instant messaging on a computer, smartphone or table. It said that you could refer yourself to the service, and it didn’t matter if your symptoms were mild, moderate or severe.

The penny dropped. I realised I desperately wanted to talk to someone about how I was feeling.

So I took the leaflet to my doctor and asked her to refer me to the service. It turns out that was the wrong thing to do, and I could have just signed up online without even going to the doctor. In the end, she referred me to a different service that involved talking on the phone instead of online.

I found CBT difficult in a lot of ways, especially over the phone. I think I would have preferred hiding behind my laptop screen. The idea of CBT is that it helps you examine your patterns of thinking so that you can see how they’re being unhelpful to you, and this can empower you to change them.

In some ways I didn’t like it because I felt like I was being blamed for how I feel. But I made an effort to engage with the therapy, and it did help me channel some of my angry feelings when my son was winding me up. The therapy helped me remember logically that he wasn’t doing it on purpose – he was only a young child – and that I had the power to choose how I reacted to it.

The sad and insecure feelings were more stubborn. They hung around until I ran out of birth control pills and forgot to refill the prescription. Within a week of stopping the pill, I started to feel better. I decided to stop taking them altogether and I’ve felt better ever since. It may have been a coincidence, but recent research is showing that depression can be an adverse effect of hormonal contraceptives.

What I’ve learned

My story exemplifies a number of challenges we have around mental health, and maternal mental health specifically. These include:

Helping women to take their feelings seriously – to not to be ashamed or afraid to talk about how they’re feeling and to ask for help.
Taking mental health as seriously as physical health.
Raising awareness of the symptoms of PND and other maternal mental health problems so that people will be equipped to recognise when there is something wrong – not just in themselves but in their friends and family.
Increasing the availability of appropriate mental health services on the NHS.
Increasing awareness of how to get help on the NHS, and the range of services that are already available.

The leaflet that popped through my door saved me. It came at the right moment. But we shouldn’t have to rely on chance for people to receive the help they need.

If you are feeling down, angry or anxious, please speak to someone. The Mental Health Foundation has a useful list of some of your options for getting help. And if you see a friend or relative struggling, please don’t look the other way.

I would like to publish as many stories about maternal mental health as I can to spread awareness. If you would like to write a guest post with your own story or perspective, please email me: themumreviews (at) gmail.com.

20 parenting moments I don’t want to forget

I’ve been talking a lot about some the harder parts of parenting, so I’m trying to add a few happy posts to balance it all out. To quasi-quote Obi-Wan Kenobi, I would like to bring balance to the force, not leave it in darkness.

Sure, I still have to wipe a lot of bottoms and noses and clean up the odd bit of sick. Yes, it’s true that they both wake up multiple times every night and I am always tired. But there are some wonderful things happening right now, and some things that happened not too long ago that I want to hold in my heart forever.

I wish I could bottle these things and save them for later when they’re long gone. There are hundreds of photos and videos, but some moments can’t be captured by a camera.

So here is my list of 20 early years parenting moments that I don’t want to forget:

When one of them sits on my lap and I bury my face in his hair. The smell of the baby shampoo and the soft texture of the babyish hair (never mind the possibility of the odd nit).
The half-a-minute each day when my boys show their brotherly love for each other – a shy little cuddle, sharing a bit of food, or playing nicely without it ending in a screamfest.
The way my toddler dances with pure joy to any music at all. Even the ring of a mobile phone.
All four of us snuggling in bed together in the early hours of the morning.
The way my eldest never stops talking and loves to explain how things work (putting his own fanciful take on it, of course).
Hugging both of them on the sofa and watching kid’s movies on lazy Sunday afternoons.
The snorty mcsnuffles sound my youngest makes while contentedly sucking his dummy.
The day each of them first gripped my finger with their tiny hands when they were newborns.
The feeling of having them fall asleep in my arms.
My toddler’s hilarious forays into talking (yelling ‘caaat’ at the cat and saying ‘beep’ while touching your nose), which he refuses to perform while the camera is recording.
Watching CBeebies. My eldest is starting to move on to CBBC and I’m really going to miss Mister Maker and Iggle Piggle.
The way my boys cuddle their soft toys. We grow up to think boys aren’t as sentimental as girls but that is not how it begins.
Getting to choose what clothes they wear every day.
Reading them stories. My eldest is starting to read the stories to me now, which is also nice, but I was loving the sound of my own voice. 😉
Holding their little hands. Having them not be ashamed to hold my hand anytime in public.
Having them jump into my arms when I pick them up from childcare/school.
Answering endless “why” questions.
The way they play so happily together when they’re in the bath. I often dread bathtime, but someday they’ll be too big for bathtime together with mummy presiding.
The way my eldest says “I love you mummy”. And I say “I love you too”. Then he says, “That’s great.”
Singing them to sleep.

What are your favourite moments with your children? If you could bottle one thing from their early years, what would it be?

Obi-Wan photo by Wacko Photographer [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

New mums and mental health

A guest post by Sally Hogg

I remember when my son was born, people kept asking ‘are you enjoying being a mum?’ The answer in the very early days, was probably ‘no’. It got better, but it wasn’t fun at first. Yes, he was absolutely amazing and wonderful. But I hurt. I kept crying for no reason. I was so very, very tired. I worried whether I was doing things right, and – to be honest – I missed my old life. This was a momentous time, but it wasn’t enjoyable at first.

But I never said ‘no’ to that question. It was loaded with expectation. Asked by grannies, aunts and older mums who look back at motherhood through rose-tinted glasses.

There are many reasons why it’s hard to admit that you’re not having a great time as a new mum. It seems as if everyone else is doing fine and having a magical time. It seems like everyone expects you to be on top of the world, and it feels like failing – and perhaps a betrayal of your baby – to say that you are struggling.

Yet most, if not all, mums will struggle at some time. And for a significant proportion, this struggle may not simply be the normal rollercoaster of new parenthood, but something more serious. Between 10 and 20% of new mums (and around 5-10% of new dads) experience a mental health problem during pregnancy or the first year after their baby is born. To put this in perspective, it means that in any typical antenatal class or baby group, there is likely to be at least one person in the room who has a mental health problem.

Whilst postnatal depression is well-known, mental health problems for new parents are not just postnatal. In fact, experts now suggest that depression is more common in pregnancy than postnatally. Problems go wider than depression too. They can include, for example, anxiety, OCD, PTSD, psychosis, and eating disorders. Some of these problems will occur for the first time when someone becomes a parent, others may be the recurrence of an existing problem – perhaps one that has been well-managed for many years. Some people with pre-existing conditions are particularly at risk: any woman who has ever experienced bipolar disorder, for example, has a 50% chance of mental illness in the weeks after birth, although this can be very effectively managed with specialist help in pregnancy. The severity of mental health problems varies too. Thankfully, most will be relatively mild, but this is not always the case: suicide is actually one of the leading causes of maternal death in the UK.

Mental health problems can be very effectively prevented or treated with the right help, which is why it is so important to speak out early if we think something is wrong in ourselves, our friends or partners. If you feel you or someone you know has a mental health problem, trust your instincts and talk about it. It may be that they are just having a few bad days, but they will still benefit from a supportive conversation and, if they are ill, the sooner they can receive help, the better.

There are a range of options available to prevent, reduce or treat mental health problems. These include support groups, counselling or other forms of psychological therapy, or medication. The best option will depend on the nature and severity of a mum’s illness and her own personality and preferences. Midwives, health visitors and GPs should ask all expectant and new mums regularly about their mental health, and should be able to signpost mums to different sources of support.

There are also things that we can do ourselves to improve our mental health. These may be enough to overcome mild mental health problems, but won’t be sufficient in themselves for women who are more seriously ill. Activities associated with reducing depression and anxiety include socialising, exercising, getting more sleep, and active relaxation (things like mindful mediation or having a massage). These can feel very hard to do when you have low mood and a new baby, which is why it’s good to talk to family and friends so that they can help you to take care of yourself.

Sadly, there are gaps in services in the UK, and some professionals don’t have the skills and knowledge they need to detect mental health problems and give women the support they need. You may need to be persistent and assertive in order to get help.

Things are improving though: the Maternal Mental Health Alliance (a coalition of over 80 charities and professional bodies) is doing a lot to raise awareness and improve services, and earlier this year, the Government announced over £350 million to fund new services.

Parenting is a rollercoaster, and it’s not one that we’ll always enjoy. For most new mums, the highs of this rollercoaster should far outnumber the lows, but a significant minority will be less fortunate. If you feel the balance isn’t right, don’t suffer in silence. You aren’t alone and things can get better.

Sally Hogg is chair of the Oxted & Caterham NCT branch. She also runs the Mums and Babies in Mind project for the Maternal Mental Health Alliance. They offer some useful self-help guides about recognising and facing maternal mental health issues.

I would like to publish as many stories about maternal mental health as I can to spread awareness. If you would like to write a guest post with your own story or perspective, please email me: themumreviews (at) gmail.com.

What you really need (& don’t need) for your new baby

Oh the consumerist excitement that comes with a first pregnancy! One of the only consolations for the lack of alcohol and sushi during my first pregnancy was the prospect of shopping, shopping, shopping. And as I’m a project manager during my day job, I was obsessed with making sure that I had everything I needed all perfectly ready for the day the baby arrived.

My poor second baby was lucky that I bought him a new cot mattress.

Only because I’d already bought everything under the sun for my first, and we still had all those things. Some of them hadn’t even been used yet.

The internet will reveal countless lists of what you “need” to get for your baby. I duly studied these, collated them into a final list, and created a spreadsheet, including an estimate of my total projected spend. Seriously.

So I would like to save someone out there from going totally overboard like me. Therefore, here is my (hopefully) no-nonsense list of what I think you need before the baby comes, what you should wait to get until after the baby comes, and what you can leave in the store.*

What to buy before your baby comes

A cot for the baby to sleep in (obvs) and a brand new cot mattress.
A moses basket is also useful because the baby can then sleep in the living room or wherever you are around the house. But I would try to get a hand-me-down or charity shop one because you only use them for about 3 months and they can cost upwards of £60.
Bedding for the cot and moses basket: 3 fitted sheets for each.
3 small cellular blankets to use for swaddling and out & about.
Those baby sleeping bag thingys. Gro-bag is the main brand but Asda does some brilliant (much cheaper) ones. They really are the best things for babies to sleep in right up until they move into a bed.
8 all-in-one sleepsuits. Baby can stay in these day and night. White is a popular choice but I prefer colourful ones that hide the poo stains. These often come with built-in scratch mitts too – the stand-alone ones will be lost immediately.
1 little newborn hat for right after baby’s born. I never used hats again until baby was much older.
My opinion is that you only need vests if it’s summer and very hot – and then baby can wear that on it’s own.
A couple cute jumpers/cardigans.
A cute little pramsuit or other warm going-outside suit. I like the ones with ears on the hood.
Nappies, nappy sacks & wet wipes along with a good changing mat.
A pushchair. For some they are practical; for some they are fashion. Up to you – but make sure:
- you can fold & unfold it one-handed
- you can put the brake on & off without struggling
- it has a raincover and cosy-toe
- it will fit through narrow doors and down the aisle of a bus
A carseat.
A playmat with flashing lights & music. I left mine laying on these for long periods of time.
A vibrating bouncy chair. This is a godsend when you need to get stuff done.
A baby bath or bath support & some baby bath soap.
Cotton wool pads (not balls). When they are really small you can use these for cleaning tiny poos and also wiping gunge off eyes and noses. You will quickly move on to wet wipes though.
Muslin squares, like 20 of them. You will go through loads of these.
A changing bag that makes you feel happy. Treat this like a handbag purchase because you will take it everywhere.
Even if you’re planning to breastfeed, get a steriliser, about 2 small bottles, a bottle brush and some made-up formula milk in those sterile bottles. The pre-made baby milk is perfect for midnight feeding panic moments.
If you’re planning to formula feed, I would go ahead a get a full pack of formula powder as well.
Metric arseloads of maternity pads.
1 box of breastpads.
Lanolin nipple cream.
Hand lotion (your hands will be messed up by all the post-nappy-change hand washing)
Chocolate.
A couple of nursing bras in a size larger than your maternity bras, but don’t spend too much because your breasts will change and you will need to perhaps get different sizes after the baby comes.

Wait until after the baby comes to get…

Lots of bottles. You may find that your baby doesn’t like the teat on the bottles you bought, and so you’ll have to experiment. You’ll be annoyed if you buy a whole collection of one type of bottle and they don’t work.
A breastpump. You might be introduced to the magical world of breastpumps while you’re in hospital. This may well change your perspective on what sort of pump you would like. You may also decide you don’t need one. Don’t get a manual one!
A sling or baby carrier. Check for a sling library in your local area and try these out with your baby before buying. There’s a lot of marketing around these but everyone is different as to whether they can actually get the damn thing on.
Baby toys. People will probably buy these for you. If not, you can always order some online.
Dribble bibs. Not all babies dribble until they’re seriously teething, which might be months later. You can use muslins to catch milk drools. Wait until you need the bibs.
A nursing cover. You may find you want one, and you may not. Wait until you feel the need as they are pricey.
Same goes for nursing pillows. I just used a throw pillow or normal pillow.
Extra bottle-feeding equipment such as bottle warmers & carriers. You may find these aren’t necessary for the way you manage bottle feeding.
Nappy cream. My babies never got any nappy rash until they were much older and then my health visitor recommended different sorts of creams than I would have bought in my pregnant state.
A baby monitor. You’re not really meant to have the baby sleep in a separate room until he/she is 6 months old, so you might as well wait. The technology changes fast and it will be better to get a newer model.

Things you don’t even need

Non-bio washing detergent. Unless unusually sensitive skin runs in your family, I could never see any issue with using bio. It gets out the poo a lot better.
Baby socks. Baby socks are the world’s most pointless things. They fall off immediately. If you must have some for cuteness purposes, invest in some sock-ons. Those things work pretty well. Booties are also purely for cute and you will probably receive at least one pair as a gift.
Special towels for the baby. Hooded towels are cute, but if you use a normal bath towel you can make it kind of hood-like without spending extra money.
Cot bumpers. They are pretty but they’re dangerous for baby. So you’ll just have to take them off before using the cot which you won’t want to do when you haven’t slept for more than 2 hours at a time in the last week.
Top and tail bowl. Sometimes these come in cute packages with the baby bath, and you can get one if you want, but you can just use any old bowl!
Nursing tops. I found that these exposed more boob than just lifting up a standard (more attractive) top. If you like wearing dresses though, nursing dresses are worth the investment.
An Angelcare mat. These are mats that monitor your baby’s movements and set off an alarm if they don’t move for a period of time. These will send your nerves into overdrive as you will get lots of false alarms. My sons had them in hospital and they went off several times a night for no reason whatsoever.

What were your must-have baby items? What things did you buy and never use?

*Disclaimer: This is all just my opinion based on experience. I’m not an expert on shopping … but I’ve had a lot of practice.

Parenting skills I didn’t know I needed

I’ve got a little bit of blogger’s block. I’ve been trying to think of something vaguely funny to write to offset some of my serious posts. It occurred to me that there are all sorts of parenting “soft skills” that nobody talks about. Those little things you do all the time when you have kids, but you never ever did before you had kids. Nor did you ever anticipate that you would need to do such things.

Scraping toothpaste off of things (e.g. the sink, my bra, the cat)
Jumping over toddler gates in the middle of the night (because those things are impossible to open when you’re half asleep)
Explaining why you shouldn’t rest your penis on the sink (But why, mummy? I love to put it there!)
Explaining why you shouldn’t put your finger up your bum (You shouldn’t, right?)
Explaining why you shouldn’t put your finger up the cat’s bum (that poor cat)
Defrosting and cooking sausages (the only thing they’re guaranteed to eat)
Cutting teensy tiny nails without drawing blood
Distinguishing poop from chocolate (harder than you might think)
Cleaning crayon off of windows (impossible)
Phonics (those things m-m-m-make no ssss-sense to me)
Extricating back-arching toddlers from narrow behind-the-sofa hiding places
Cleaning up a poonami without smearing it all over the wall
Using a screwdriver to replace musical mobile batteries at 4am
Carrying a handbag, changing bag, shopping and a wriggling toddler at the same time
Carrying tired preschooler up hills at speed to reach toilet in time
Secret kitchen biscuit consumption whilst preparing fruit for children
Never leaving the house without snacks and wet wipes
Not getting stuck when fetching children off playground/soft play equipment
Oceans of patience and self-control
Remembering to get lots of cuddles before they turn into stinky teenagers

Can you relate to any of these? What are your unexpected parenting skills?

Birthing babies is a messy business – my postnatal anxiety

I’ve mentioned before in my breastfeeding post about the traumatic birth I had with my first son. Without going into too much detail here, I was induced, I had an emergency c-section and he was in special care with pneumonia for 10 days after he was born.

This all threw me for a massive loop. I had planned a natural water birth with only gas and air in a midwife-led birthing centre. I’d been doing pregnancy yoga and was convinced my body was a childbearing temple and I could have the birth I wanted if only I thought positively about it.

What a load of bull!

I had a drip and was strapped to a foetal monitor which kept bleeping in alarming ways that made me think my baby was dying. I had an epidural after being pricked in the spine countless times, and finally was rushed to theatre (after 20 hours of labour). I was so scared and addled during the surgery that I sang all the songs from The Sound of Music to my anaesthetist. Apparently, that was a first for him – but he was quite young.

And I hadn’t even considered, nor had anyone mentioned to me, the possibility of my son going to special care and being in one of those plastic oxygen boxes. I thought that only happened if your baby was premature. Turns out, special care happens to loads of mums for all sorts of reasons. But nobody warns you ahead of time.

Birth trauma and its effects

By the time I finally brought my son home from hospital, I was seriously messed up. I was convinced he was going to spontaneously die. We couldn’t fit his cot in our bedroom, so I slept in the nursery with him (away from my husband). I lost so much sleep, staying awake listening to make sure he was still breathing.

I remember that every night I would go to sleep repeating to myself, “Please God let him be okay. Please God let him outlive me. Please let him grow to be an old man.” My anxiety about his survival was all consuming.

And other times, when he had colic and wouldn’t stop crying, I wanted to throw him out of the bloody window. And as soon as that thought crossed my mind, I would be overtaken with guilt.

When I think of myself back in those days, I see a woman walking around in a sleep-deprived haze of constant anxiety around my baby’s well-being. Who couldn’t go on a buggy walk without me stopping to check on him every couple of minutes. I hated his rear-facing car seat because I couldn’t see him – we had to buy a mirror.

When well-meaning people would try to hold him or feed him a bottle, I was liable to hover and even yell at them, criticising their techniques – even though these were people who had children of their own and knew what they were doing.

I wore the same clothes day and night – a nursing top and baggy elasticated-waistband trousers. They were inevitably covered in baby sick and the crumbs from my attempts to eat toast without putting the baby down.

I was lonely but I couldn’t maintain a conversation. The days and nights ran into one another. Each day it seemed like I’d be stuck forever in my dark living room, curtains drawn, trying to soothe my screaming baby. Each night was spent begging forgiveness to the universe for being such an ungrateful and unworthy mother.

When I look back at the woman I was in those early days of first-time motherhood, I almost don’t recognise her.

Getting better

I never sought any help for my condition. I didn’t realise it was a problem. I thought it must be normal. In retrospect, I know it wasn’t normal.

As time passed, the trauma of my birth and my son’s illness faded. Eventually, my son started crawling. Seeing him be independent and robust relieved some of my anxiety. By the time he was 1, I was feeling more like myself.

I was lucky that I got better in my own time. But it would have been much better if I’d realised what a state I was in and that there was help out there for me.

That is why this is the first post in what I’m hoping will become a series on maternal mental health. My next post will deal with the PND I had after my second son. And then I’m hoping to commission guest posts on the topic. Not just on diagnosed PND or anxiety, but about any mental health challenges you might have faced as a new mum. These could be shared on my blog anonymously if you like, or you can put your name to it.

If you would like to contribute a post on maternal mental health, please email me at themumreviews (at) gmail.com.

If you are feeling down, anxious, lonely or depressed after having a baby, you are not alone.

You can find support and information on http://www.pandasfoundation.org.uk/. Please also consider speaking to your GP or health visitor, and seeking support from family and friends.

Casting call: Actors needed to play the role of parent

This post might be controversial. Maybe people will totally judge me over it. But I am over worrying about being judged … and this post explains one of the reasons why.

Picture this:

You’re in the park and your son is playing confidently on the equipment designed for his age group. You’re chilling on a bench nearby – maybe you even check your phone. Another mum turns up and is keeping close to her son as he climbs the stairs, and she always catches him at the bottom of the slide. All the time she is talking to him loudly in a conversational tone, loudly encouraging him to continue being totally awesome at playing in the park.

What do you do?

If the answer is carrying on doing what you’re doing, then well done. You may be immune to the scourge of acting like a parent.

But you know what I’ve been known to do? I start copying the other mum I see at the park. I go and stand near where my son is playing, talking to him and stuff. Because I (almost subconsciously) worry that the other mum will judge me if I don’t.

I react to my instinct that in public I must parent in a way that other people – especially other parents – will approve of.

Do you ever change your natural parenting behaviour when you’re in public? Do you start acting like you think other people want you to? Some examples I see and/or do every day:

Correcting my children loudly when they misbehave in public, so that others know that I’m not letting them get away with it. But NEVER shouting.
Being excessively involved in my children’s play when I have an audience.
Acting more attentive than normal in making sure my child doesn’t fall over or otherwise sustain an injury. Hovering. Otherwise someone might think I am neglectful.
NEVER leaving my children alone in the car, not even for a moment while I put my trolley in the trolley park. Even if this means dangerously carrying armfuls of groceries along with a child and any number of other items.
Making loud comments about limiting screen time when they play with their tablets in public.
Worrying about whether others will approve of what food I feed my children. Making excuses for biscuits.

The parenting performance

I am perfectly happy with my parenting techniques that I use in private. There’s nothing wrong with them. And yet I almost compulsively adjust them in response to what I perceive as other people’s expectations. I’d be surprised to hear that I’m the only one.

Modern-day parenting is full of the expectation of being present and accounted for. “Helicopter parenting” is the fashion. We make sure our children are well-behaved and polite, are fed healthy food, play with educational toys, bathe regularly, brush their teeth, and are never put in harm’s way. Of course we do those things. I can’t speak for others, but I suspect I’m not the only one who’s totally insecure about this. I know I’m doing the right things, but I am so worried that other people think I’m doing it wrong.

And so my public parenting has become a performance. I feel as though every time I go in public, I’m walking onto the parenting stage.

I’m so over it

Is it all in my head? I don’t think so, actually. I’ve been known to judge other parents. I’ve heard other parents judging other parents. I’m almost certain that people sometimes judge me.

It’s human nature to be judgemental. We can’t judge people for being judgers because that just creates a big ugly judge-y snowball.

What we need – what I need – is confidence. Most parents are doing the best they can with the tools they have. We need to believe this about ourselves. Letting go of our parenting insecurities will make us happier – and happy parents raise happy children.

Parenting is hard enough without worrying about what other people think. So the next time you’re at the park – go ahead and hover if it makes you happy. But not because you think that the mum over there checking her phone thinks you should.

Blog Toast Tuesday: 20 September 2016

Welcome back to #blogtoast Tuesday, my weekly feature where I offer a congratulatory toast to two blogs that I like. Virtual booze does not have the same effect as real booze, but perhaps my modest praise can take the edge off your day in much the same way.

The Unsung Mum: For the underestimated and unacknowledged rad mum

I’m realising that my very favourite blogs are funny and poignant ones that highlight the hard bits of parenting with a self-deprecating sense of humour, and try to make us all feel better about ourselves. The Unsung Mum is doing this right.

Her posts are written in the third person and feature hilarious illustrations that appear to have been drawn in Microsoft Paint or suchlike. They are usefully labelled in case you are in any doubt about (for example) which bits of a picture are shit and which bits are chocolate.

I particularly enjoyed “How to rid yourself of the mothers’ group Twatty McTroll Face“, about those women both online and IRL who make you feel bad because you use disposable nappies and don’t make your own hummus – and how we can defeat them.

Her most recent post, “The Unsung Mum and the PND disaster” describes the things that went through her head when she suffered with PND. I relate to a lot of it, but also appreciate her very wise statement that PND comes in many different shapes and sizes. The most important bit is how she says it was a friend that helped her the most, telling her “it’s okay not to be okay”. It’s a good reminder of what we should all tell our friends sometimes when we think they might need it.

Our Rach Blogs

In a Twitter conversation recently, Rach told me that people don’t like her (her exact words: “I’m like thrush”). Based on how interesting her blog is, I find this hard to believe. But then again, people don’t like me either. And I only sometimes like people.

There are lots of things I like about this blog, and as one of its features is Top 10 lists, I’m going to be all thematic & shit and list the reasons I like her blog. I’m only doing 5 though (I don’t have time/too lazy to do 10).

She writes feminist stuff. Her recent post, “What do you mean you don’t want kids?” was brilliant. Nobody thinks being childless or choosing childlessness makes a man less of a person, so why are people always implying that about women?
She questions everyday bullshit. I like this one where she wonders why we always say sorry to each other for stupid things like pressing the same lift button at the same time. I’m not British-born so I work harder than anyone to say sorry all the time (to prove my Britishness), but maybe I should stop that.
She writes about mental health and PND awareness, a topic that is also close to my heart.
She is a good writer. Every post unfolds just like you’re reading a really good column in a really good newspaper.
She covers an eclectic range of topics. I’ve read a lot of advice in the blogging world that says you need to make sure you stick to a niche, but I’m sceptical about that. It’s my blog and I’m going to write what I want. I’m glad she does that too.

Please do join me in toasting the best blogs by tweeting your favourite this week with the hashtag: #blogtoast (and if you mention @themumreviews I will retweet you – it’s win/win!) – or let me know just what you think of me in the comments!

Feeling bad when teacher says my kid is naughty at school

Last week, my 4-year-old son started school. My post about that important milestone said that I didn’t feel sad, despite feeling lots of other emotions. But after a week and a half of him going, I’ve been experiencing an entirely unanticipated emotion:

Guilt.

Why guilt, you wonder? Is it because I’m enjoying the extra child-free work time I get while he’s at school? Hells no – not guilty about that at all.

I feel guilty because he is struggling to settle in, and I don’t know how to help him.

What’s going on

When I picked him up on the first day at school, the teacher took me aside to say that his behaviour is “challenging”. He doesn’t like to share and starts screaming in distress sometimes if somebody encroaches on what he sees as his territory. He has trouble transitioning between activities – he gets upset if they ask him to move on from something before he’s finished. And sometimes he just plain old doesn’t listen or do what the teacher says.

On the walk home from school on that first day, I was holding back the tears the whole time. My son wasn’t unhappy about his first day at school. But I was so disappointed about the teacher’s negative report. I didn’t want my son to know how much it upset me.

On the second and third days of school, I got more negative reports from the teacher. The teacher asked that I pursue a referral to a paediatrician that had been commenced back when he was at nursery. I felt like the only mum in the whole school whose child wasn’t settling in smoothly. I didn’t see the teacher talking to any of the other parents after school.

Over the weekend, we started using a pasta jar as a reward system. Good behaviour = a piece of pasta. Bad behaviour = lose a piece of pasta. Full jar = a special treat. It worked well for us at home and we told him that he would get lots of extra pasta for good behaviour at school.

The teacher reported a lukewarm improvement. Then I didn’t hear from her for the rest of this week. Apparently, however, she told my husband that his behaviour was “too complicated to say whether it’s good or bad”.

I’ve got all the feels (and neuroses)

Talking to the teacher makes me feel so uncomfortable! I feel like I’m the one who’s been naughty. I feel like my son’s behaviour is my fault. I feel a bit like it’s a parenting fail.

I also feel powerless because I don’t know how to help him. If I could be a fly on the wall and see what he was actually doing in class, then I might be able to better help the teacher manage his behaviour. But that’s not possible, and she is busy with 30-odd kids to look after. I feel guilty for taking up her time!

I actually realise that I’m overreacting a bit. Perhaps these feelings are rooted in my own feelings around school. I was also naughty at school. I had serious issues with authority, and I was a late bloomer in terms of social skills. My reports always said “does not play well with others”.

And I’ve worked hard to reform myself. At university, I was the perfect student. I’m good now and I follow the rules, and I (mostly) play well with others. I don’t want my son to be labelled as a naughty kid, or to not be liked by his peers.

I always blamed my bad behaviour at school on some of the dysfunctional aspects of my upbringing. I’ve worked hard to give my son the most “normal” family life possible. His upbringing is much different from mine and much more stable.

So is being naughty at school, like, genetic or something?

Why I’m sharing

The reason I’m sharing this information with my readers is that I suspect I’m not alone in getting upset about my child’s behaviour at school. I’ve talked to other parents who feel equally as powerless to help their children improve in areas in which they might be falling behind. These other parents often feel as though they are being blamed – that teachers and others have implied that bad school behaviour starts at home.

Is it our fault? I’m not sure if there’s a clear cut answer to this.

But I have to say that it makes me a little angry that so much is made of a child not behaving well in his first week at school. Starting reception class asks an awful lot of little 4 and 5 year olds. It entails long days, a new environment, new people, different food and a complete change of routine.

Was it really necessary to take me aside in the first week and already label my child as being naughty?

And of course there’s always the different implication that my child might have special needs, which brings more worry and the stress of the protracted diagnosis process you face within the NHS.

Ticking all the boxes

I feel our education system can sometimes suffer from a tick box culture. No doubt many of you will be familiar with the Early Years Framework, which is used in nursery and pre-school as well as at Reception. It aims to ensure that all aspects of the children’s developmental needs are meant, and has 6 areas of focus:

communication and language
personal, social and emotional
physical development
literacy
mathematics
knowledge and understanding of the world

If your child went to nursery, you probably received occasional charts that showed whether your child was achieving as expected for their age group in each of these areas.

It’s great that childcare and education settings are aware of important development areas for children, and that they’re trying to develop all of the areas and help to shape a balanced person as the child grows.

But what bothers me is that it seems like they are so quick to raise concerns if the child isn’t achieving in every area. My son has above average literacy and numeracy, but he falls behind in personal, social and emotional development.

Does that really mean there’s something wrong with him? Or could it be that he is only 4 years old, and he’s only human, and he’s developing in his own unique way?

So if you’re experiencing some of the same issues as your child starts school, just remember that you’re not alone. That you’re trying your best. And that every child develops at their own pace.

Featured image credit: Jonathan Khoo/Flickr; Creative Commons licence 2.0