Mum Rage

Today Gorgeous Gorgeous had an explosive nappy whilst we were in the local library. I spent twenty minutes cleaning and changing her (2 layers of clothes and a pram suit!) in the library’s only toilet, whilst a rude, angry old man banged on the door. Despite sticking my head out a few times to explain and apologise he continued to thump on the door without once actually opening his mouth. I mean, as if this mumhood malarkey isn’t stressful enough, there I am literally cleaning up shit on a manky, changing table in a less than clean public loo, giving my poor babe the worlds speediest, most vigorous wet wipe bath (it was in her armpit) of her life because I felt embarrassed, frustrated and under pressure from some mardy old man rattling the door every 10 seconds. Unusually for me, my embarrassed, awkwardness tipped into anger and I lost my shit (pun intended).

I marched out of the loo red faced and angry. I shouted at the grumpy old toad and told him that “as soon as you get in there and lock the door, I’m going to stand out here and rattle and bang the door to see how you like it..” I didn’t do that obviously, but I did stomp through the library, past all the ‘quiet please’ signs, yelling what a rude and obnoxious man he was.

Once I calmed downed, I obviously felt so ashamed of myself. He probably just really needed a wee right? Anyone else get Mum Rage?

Lindsay x

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Happiness is homemade

Hyperemesis Gravidarum or HG is a little known pregnancy complication. A sufferer (and it is a suffering) has severe nausea, and vomiting, which can lead to weight loss and dehydration. It is more than just morning sickness. It can sometimes last the entire pregnancy (for me until 30 weeks) and affects less than 2% of women. There is no known cause.

I am one of the lucky ones. I only lost weight in the first trimester and suffered severe dehydration once. Some women require hospitalisation a few times throughout their pregnancies and can vomit 30+ times a day. My personal best was 19.

This is a really difficult post for me to write. I don’t want to say it out loud as I am ashamed. In a world in which this Baby is the most hoped, wished, loved and longed for being, there were a few times I found myself wishing that I wasn’t pregnant, wishing it would all just stop.

Whilst I had my head in the toilet for the 20th time, violently vomiting up my stomach lining (i’d not eaten for 48 hours), listening to yet another opinionated, interfering, arsehole ask if I had tried eating a ginger biscuit (ffs!), I can appreciate how persuasive that thought can be. Fortunately for me, HG didn’t become a serious illness. I was a lucky one. For some Mother’s, a decision has to be made for her own physical and mental wellbeing.

I can only touch on my own experience and it’s really challenging to put down in words how much it affected me mentally as well as physically. Instead, I’m going to direct you to a couple of links that helped me during my pregnancy.

www.pregnancysicknesssupport.org.uk

www.spewingmummy.co.uk

I am thankful my poor, vomity body made another beautiful, healthy baby and for that I am full of gratitude and happiness.

Lindsay x

Back on the Blogging Bandwagon

It’s been more than 12 months since my last blog post. It turns out that the withdrawal symptoms of a sugar free diet are also the same as early pregnancy symptoms!

In fact, pretty much all of my ‘sugar free’ symptoms are the same as what I experienced whilst pregnant with BV. I was so sure in fact that I took a pregnancy test. It was negative. However, the idea was in my head, I was so sure I was pregnant. I knew the test was wrong. I waited until the following day and I took another test (again negative), in fact I took a test a further 3 more times (all negative!) before the 5th one gave me a very faint positive. I knew it. I was knocked up with no.2.

Mr Intrepid and I were ecstatic. I was ready for it. I was hoping to blog my way through this pregnancy with cute, accuracy of what it is to be pregnant, a week by week growth of this little one. However, the little bean had other ideas. She (yes this one is a girl!) was determined to make me suffer more than BV ever did. I felt like hell.

I fainted all over the place, I had nosebleeds, headaches, sore limbs, and my god I was tired.

I had no energy and I was fucking exhausted. Pregnancy is hard and I had a toddler now this time. 6 weeks in I began to get really unwell. The nausea had kicked in, only this time there was vomiting too. All day and all night long. I was throwing up in carrier bags on my daily commute, in nappy bags whilst changing my son’s nappies, in the shower and once actually in the street. I couldn’t catch a break. I could barely get through the day, there was no way I was blogging about it.

1 year later, on maternity leave, the baby naps are back. Despite popular advice I can’t nap when baby naps (who would hang up the washing?), I am ready to get back on the blogging band wagon. First up, I want to spread awareness of a little know pregnancy condition, Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG).

Lindsay x

A letter to my Judge

Dear Judgy McJudgyson, if that’s even your real name…?

Why do you do it? Silently judging parents and how they parent, particularly if they parent differently from you. Does it come from your own insecurity?  Are other parents’ methods making you question your own methods? No one wants to think they’re not doing right by their child. You are having doubts. In this competitive sport that parenting has become, your way is the only way.

However, your silent judging isn’t so silent anymore. I can hear you. 

You’re staring at me. You’re pointing and whispering-“I can’t believe she’s doing that” saying that/allowing that” Well listen up Judgy McJudgyson, so what if I am?!

Somehow every parenting decision I have ever made is fair game for criticism: Did I find out the sex? What kind of birth did I have?, Does my child have his own room? Am I going to breastfeed?, Why am I still breastfeeding? Do I allow my child to watch TV?, Is he still in nappies?  Oh.My.Effing.God!, Are you going out? Without him?

“Oh” you say, “I’m not doing that” (eye roll). Why do you care whether or not my child watches CBeebies 12 hours a day, eats ice cream for dinner or spends most of the night cuddled up in my bed instead of his own?

Do you know what’s really helpful? I am cramming my heart and soul into raising my son, struggling with a myriad of everyday, normal woes, financial, health, work -whatever – when I am judged by you.  Super mum, who arrogantly knows just what to do. It’s amazing. And oh so welcome. Because that’s what I need: a kick in the teeth by someone who’s got this mothering thing in the bag.  

Your judging has sadly become part of my mum culture. I try to keep my opinions to myself, my own mum taught me if I’ve nothing nice to say then I shouldn’t say anything at all. And this is (mostly) how I live. I remove myself from the situation. I do not need your opinions and I do not need you.

I know I’m never going to stop noticing how other mums do their thing and wondering how my own choices stack up. I think it’s fine to notice. It’s fine to discuss our differences. Whatever works-right? I know I’m not like you. I hope I’m not like you. I never want to make any mum or parent feel the way you make me feel.

We are supposed to share our war stories with each other. Offer a hand, an ear or a cup of tea. I’m on an island and I can’t swim, for fucks sake pass me a fucking life belt!

It’s become the norm to mercilessly judge our fellow parents, yet behind closed doors we share the same worries and angst. We should be mindful of each other’s feelings.  Somewhere along the way we have forgotten, that we’re all on the same team. What’s that African proverb….? Oh yes, It takes an entire village to raise a child.
Well listen up Judgy McJudgyson, you can roll your eyes at me and point your finger all you like but you and I are the same. We are mums and we need each other, so Mum the fuck up and join this village!

Yours Sincerely,

Lindsay McLindsayson x

Labels Schmabels

I recently read a blog post by a lovely friend of mine. Stop with the labels! I am a Mother not a Mulberry!  It resonated with me on such a level that I feel like I need to respond.

I am proud too of labels I am known by: wife, daughter, sister, friend, weird tattooed girl with the metal in her face (true story!) and yes, a mother.

However, I am also proud to be that mother. I have judged, and I have been judged.

I am a ‘helicopter’ mum. I need to stay close to my boy, how else can I really know for sure that he is ok? I will smother him with love if that means he will grow up never doubting it.

I am a ‘sanctimummy’. Of course my way is the best way. It has to be like this. What kind of mum would this make me, if I had no idea what I’m doing? I may not be tutting, but I am judging. Myself though, obviously. If you think I have my shit together then I am winning at something. Woohoo.

I am a Tiger Mum. I am demanding. I want my child to grow up compassionate and smart, kind and strong. I want him to be all the things I strive to be, and I will push him until he knows he can be everything and more.

All of these labels are ways to judge and criticise but I am proud to have them all.
Mothering is hard and I’m winging it working at it…everyday. I am not a designer handbag, but I am in every sub category of mother, I am all of the mothers, and I am the mother, and I am fricking awesome.

Please follow Jenna’s posts here, and if you’re in need of some fellow mummy support or amazing pregnancy and birth hippy love, then here’s where you can find it! ❤️ www.doulanatal.co.uk

Lindsay x