Mums the Word

First-time mum, in training. Blogging about this motherhood malarkey from a refreshingly honest perspective.

To my first time mum self...

18 months ago I became a mother. 18 months ago I was lying in a hospital bed cradling the tiniest little human in my arms, those moments unexplainable through words, utterly surreal.
Feeling bewildered and a little green around the gills, I shoved my building anxiety in a drawer and, like I always did when any obstacles surfaced, buried it, kept marching on, and tried to forget about it.

The adrenaline I was high on began to fade that same evening, and the nervous anxiety slowly crept its way into my mind. I was sat alone with Arthur, shaking, fighting not to fall apart in the swamp of realization and reality and the comedown. In love but terrified, in company of a fresh out the bun baby but so alone. Inexplicably happy but exceptionally depressed all the same. 

Beth Anne - Lessons learned from being a special needs parent

Generally speaking, when we become a parent we are ready and raring to teach our children everything that we feel they need to know about the world. Filling their little minds with our values and the skills that will help them go on to lead their own lives, is something we instinctively assume will happen. It's our right to do so. We expect it and we look forward to it. On the day that I was told my son Charlie had autism, that "right" suddenly became so very hazy. I no longer had any idea how, or if it would even be possible, to pass on anything to my child. In that moment, I could never have imagined that I'd be sitting here four years later feeling the way that I do now.  Charlie, despite being non verbal for the majority of these years, has taught me more than I could ever have anticipated. I feel like being his mum has quite possibly given me more of an education than all of my time in school or university. And it's an education about life, about love, about hope and about perseverance. And with all that being said, he's the greatest teacher I could have ever asked for.

How To Have A Positive Birthing Experience

I know so many people fear the dreaded labour. It has been drilled into us to expect the most excruciating, most unbearable pain in the world. Our ears have bled petrifying, possible scenarios, and we've been subjected to the worst of the worst, daunted with the scariest horror stories.
I don't agree with said horror tales. Labour is such an extremely, although wonderful, overwhelming, emotional and somewhat traumatic event. Imprinting this idea that you will endure the worst form of torture from which you have no control or can't escape from is imprudent.

You, as you are

Do we ever truly accept ourselves, as we are? Our flaws, our impurities, our quirks that make us individual? Will we ever stop comparing, stop longing to "fix" our bad bits? Stop wishing we weren't everything that makes us who we are?

It's easy to do, to agonize over the little nicks, the extra bit of weight, the freckles we conceal with layers of make up, the nose we think is too big, the grin that spreads too wide or the laugh we have that is just too loud.
I think, with social media controlling every aspect of our lives, with every moment being lived to be documented, captured and approved, staged for the audience of aloof followers, it makes us battle in this competition for desired acclaim. 

Parenting Anxieties

I have been known to catastrophize, overthink, obsess, worry myself into crippling unease. I have struggled with anxiety disorder since as young as I can remember. I am anxiety and anxiety is me.

Even now, I remember at 11 years old being absolutely overcome with this tenacious feeling of dread, this unrelenting terror that had clasped its hands around my throat, unforgiving.
At 11, I had no idea what was happening. I don't remember when (although I now know why) it first began, though I do remember that I was suddenly scared all the time, so so unreasonably scared, petrified and untrusting of everyone around me, terrified of myself and this overwhelming panic that was paralyzing my body.

Mum Guilt

Immense guilt is something I've felt a lot over many things in life. Guilt when I pretended I was working late so I could escape those plans I wish I hadn't made. Guilt at that time I said those things I didn't mean (but really did) out of pent up anger, bitterness I'd stowed away. Guilt for not appreciating loved ones surrounding me and not spending sufficient time with them when I had the chance.

Being a mother, guilt has taken a different, fresh form. A new voracious, gut wrenching guilt that doesn't subside. The covetous kind that coils itself around my heart and eats away at me day in and day out. Fills me with despair and self-loathing because it projects blame and convinces me I am a terrible fucking person. I have felt it shadow my every move, thrive in my failures, consume me to the brink of being filled with a ravenous feeling of regret and hate and humiliating shame. 

you can get through anything

It can be easy to feel like nothing in your life will get better when you've spent so much of it plagued with hardship or sorrow. That all you are designed for is pain and loss and agony. There's so much you have yet to experience and in that bleak pit of despair it can be difficult to surmise that light could shine through. It's impossible to grip onto hope that barely glimmers in your direction when the pain feels like its ripping your bones apart.
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