Our story – Page 3 – You're Doing Great, Baby!

Stuck on the couch

I spent a lot of Leo’s early life on the couch. He spent most of his day either breastfeeding, bottle-feeding or asleep on me. Jeff would leave for work and I’d be on the couch, and then he’d come home and I’d still be on the couch.

Jeff was much better at being stuck on the couch than me. He always seemed to manage to have a snack in his hand and his laptop nearby.

I always managed to be busting to go to the toilet or thirsty or hungry (or all three) but I didn’t want to move in case I woke Leo.

Looking back at photos from that time I have made an inventory of all the stuff I can see in the photos. It was like my office and I had a good set-up going on.

Glasses of water
Breast pump
Bottles
Pillows covered in blankets and towels
Cloths for wiping up baby vomit
Tissues
Parenting books
Picture books
Motillium (to increase my milk supply)
Laptop
Phone (landline – didn’t have a smart phone yet)
A toothbrush (a lactation consultant said that stimulating the breast with an electric toothbrush could help my supply)
Vitamins
Snacks
A notebook and pen to write down the times of all his feeds

Memories!

For those of you who are new to our blog, the reason we are writing about all this stuff is that we have written a picture book for new parents to remind them how great they are doing. It is the book that we wish had when Leo was little. You can read more about our rough-around-the-edges look at early parenting here.

We have been working on it for years (in our heads), and actually did the writing and illustrating over the past year. The book is finished! We will be launching a crowdfunding campaign on the 2nd of August so we can print a small run of board books. We would love your support – more on that soon.

This is is one of the spreads from the book. Our brown couch from this era has a supporting role.

Where else would I rather be?

When I first had Leo, I had a major case of FOMO. Not leaving the house to go to work five days a week, and realising that I hadn’t been out at night for months, was a major adjustment. I think Leo was about five months old when I first went out for a quick dinner with a friend (just down the road so I could rush home if I needed to).

All of the measures of success I had subscribed to up until now (academic, career, creative output, good relationships, number of friends, how busy I was) – they all meant NOTHING.

SO WHO THE HELL WAS I NOW? I didn’t recognise myself.

Who are you again? — The first time we took Leo out to a cafe

It took me a while, but ultimately I came to like the new ‘me’.

New me:

Prioritised sleep over pretty much everything else.
Thought about someone else before myself.
Could say ‘no’ more easily.
Was more comfortable in my own company.
Could communicate my needs.

Three years after I became a mum, my friend Tabitha had her first baby. We have an ongoing conversation about all things to do with motherhood and one day we had a conversation about all the things you give up when you have a child. All the things that go on hold – some of them never to be picked up again.

I am not sure which one of us said it, but we decided that the key question was “Where else would I rather be?” The vast majority of the time, the answer was (and is) “nowhere“, which was quite a shocking realisation at the time. As much as the days drag on sometimes, by the time it’s the kids’ bedtime, I look forward to stories and bath-time and kissing their soft cheeks and having a sniff of their heads (I’m a head sniffer like my Dad). It’s a mixture of exhaustion, growing older and Stockholm Syndrome… It’s also the knowledge that, as Gretchen Rubin says

The days are long, but the years are short.

Some days I need reminding, but much of the time I am in touch with the fact that there will be plenty of time for dinner parties and long baths by myself and going to the toilet without someone sitting on my lap. (I wrote more about my attempt to live in the present moment in my post about Sarah Napthali’s book Buddhism for Mothers).

Comedian and father Louis C.K. put all this very eloquently:

“When I first got married and had kids, I had some friends I played poker with on Mondays and I thought: The poker game on Mondays, that’s the water line. If I don’t make that game, I’m losing something. I’m losing something if I don’t make it to that game. It means I’m letting go of my youth, I’m letting go of my manhood, all these things — my independence.

“But then after a while I realized: Why would I want to go play poker with a bunch of guys in a smoky room when I could be at home with my family? I realized that a lot of the things that my kid was taking away from me, she was freeing me of. There was this huge pride in having a kid and also that I didn’t matter anymore. The greatest thing about having a child is putting yourself second in your own life. It’s a massive gift to be able to say you’re not the most important person to yourself.”

The challenges mothers face

After spending the last six years listening to women’s stories of pregnancy, birth and early motherhood, I have seen women dealing with all sorts of challenges.

Challenges to do with:

Infertility
Miscarriage
Birth trauma
Mother’s health (mental or physical)
Baby’s health
Breastfeeding
Sleep (baby’s or mother’s)
Feeding
Family or relationship stress
Isolation and loneliness
Identity crises
Outside stress (death of a family member, moving house, financial stress).

There are surely exceptions, but I can’t think of a mother I know who hasn’t faced one challenge or another (or multiple challenges). It’s as if this is part of a woman’s rite of passage into motherhood.

Sometimes women face these challenges alone – not wanting to tell anyone what they are going through. Especially if their issues are hidden, such as injuries from birth or pregnancy. Other times it’s very obvious that they are being challenged to their core. At the time it’s not something you would ever hope for, but often there are amazing insights that can come out of dealing with one (or more) challenges in that early time.

I found that the challenges I faced as a new mum have given me deep compassion for other mothers’ struggles. Our book has been borne out of this compassion and everything we have learnt.

Through Leo’s birth I learnt how to communicate my needs and advocate for myself and my child. I don’t feel like I can know for sure what Clem’s birth has taught me until he is a bit older, but one year on it has taught me that surrendering to, and learning from, life’s ups and downs is my life’s work.

It’s so important to honour our disappointment when things don’t go as we had hoped. I remember my despair when I couldn’t produce enough milk to sustain Leo. I needed to grieve. Gratitude would come later, once I’d honoured my sadness and my profound wish that things could be different. (I will write more about my journey with breastfeeding with Insufficient Glandular Tissue in a later post.)

It’s easy for people who aren’t in a mother’s position to belittle her feelings of loss and disappointment when things don’t go as she had hoped and planned for, or dismiss them as ‘first world problems’. This is so unhelpful. Everything feels heightened with a new baby around and what the mother needs is support and empathy – not “at leasts” e.g. “at least you have a healthy baby”.

I had mild postnatal psychosis and postnatal depression after the births of both of my children. I thought that all the work I had done and the lifestyle changes I’d had would mean that I’d be fine after Clem was born, but it happened again. Mental illness is bad enough at anytime, but trying to recover while you’re also looking after and getting to know a baby with round-the-clock needs is extremely challenging. Beating myself up about getting sick again wasn’t productive, but I have had times when I felt like a failure for having it happen a second time.

Women dealing with challenges: I salute you.

It can feel so lonely to be going through whatever it is you’re going through. I know so well that feeling of just wanting your family to have a happy life free from struggle. I solemnly hope that you find some peace in whatever your sorrow is.

Transitions and going back to work

My desk at home — This is my desk at home, including: phone, breastfeeding herbs, breakfast, dinner makings, Leo’s word wall and nappies to put together.

I am going back to my job part-time next week after 14 months of maternity leave.

It brings a chapter of my life to a close and another one is beginning. I look forward to: listening to podcasts on my commute, wearing dangly earrings, being part of a team, talking to other adults, warm tea, learning new things, yoga in the office on Fridays and eating lunch without a million interruptions. But as much as I’m looking forward to the break from total 24/7 parenting, I am also sad about missing out on time with Clem and Leo. It’s a balancing act, right?

If mothering was a paid job I would sit down with my boss each year and reflect on what I’ve achieved and identify the areas I need to work on. Instead, I’ll tell you. I have:

Loved and cared for little Clem.
Loved and cared for Leo, and helped him transition to big school.
Recovered from my second bout of postnatal psychosis and depression (the first was after Leo’s birth).*
Developed my skills as a cook/cleaner/playmate/dispute resolutions consultant/mumma bear/school mum/washerwoman.
Worked hard on everything to do with this book (we are going to launch our crowdfunding campaign to actually get the book printed in August – more details to come of course!).

It’s been great work – all of it. I am so grateful to have had this precious time with my family.

The areas I need to work on are: going with the flow, working exercise into my everyday routine, spending time with Jeff where we are not sitting on the couch working on our laptops, and not flying off the handle at Leo.

I find the time right before a change or transition the hardest. The waiting, the over-thinking – gets me frazzled every time.

Baby and kid land is full of transitions. It gives you the chance to really hone your ‘going with the flow’ skills. Kids are great at living in the moment, but heaven knows I need all the practice I can get!

Dropping naps
Toilet training
New beds
New ways of getting to sleep
Starting solids
Weaning
Going back to work
New siblings
New daycare/preschool/big school

I am exhausted just reading this list! But we get through it all, and afterwards I can’t see what all the fuss was about.

If I’m feeling tense and overwhelmy about a change coming up I try to remind myself that it is going to happen whether I resist it, wish it away, or just hang in there. So I may as well relax into it as much as I can and enjoy the ride.

* I am slipping this in like it’s no big deal, but this has been a big challenge for me. It’s something I will have a post devoted to soon because often people stay quiet about mental health issues and I am ready to talk about it.

– For more about ‘going with the flow’ – see my post about the book ‘Buddhism for Mothers’

Things I see differently post-kid

We are loving this project a lot. It is like our third child. Both Jeff and I have been working on it full-time (with many, many breaks to look after our actual children and Jeff doing paid work) for five months and counting.

If this book is successful I dream of also doing You’re Doing Great, Kid and You’re Doing Great, Toddler. Jeff wisely tells me to take one thing at a time.

But just say that I was thinking a little bit about You’re Doing Great, Kid. I might think of a list of things I see differently after having a kid, for example…

Hiding vegetables – gives a great sense of satisfaction
Bribery – happens. Also called ‘negotiations’
Hummus – makes vegies palatable
Buying in bulk – it’s like I am permanently getting ready for the apocalypse
Kids eating in the car – I used to think ‘why would you do that?!’
Messy, gross cars – see above
Mini vacs – self explanatory
Toys I didn’t play with as a kid because they were ‘boys’ toys’: Lego, paper planes, trains, cars – are actually super fun
Sushi train – food as soon as you walk in the door and it’s like an outing (bonus!)
Community
My parents – I used to love them and now I love them even more
Having a bath before bed – is actually really nice. I used to be a shower in the morning gal
Choc chips, sprinkles, smarties and hundreds and thousands – add to snacks so kid will eat them
Bubble bath – makes reluctant kid want to bathe
Going to bed early – ROCKS!
Absolutely scoffing your food – Jeff and I call it the ‘parental inhale’
Chest freezers and big-batch cooking
Ordering EVERYTHING online
Drive thrus – don’t need to get out of car
Young men – I used to be a bit scared of young men and now I look at them fondly because I imagine Leo and Clem being that age
Paying a cleaner.

What didn’t you understand until after having a kid? Leave a comment below.

Awkward photos

I’ve been looking through photos of when Leo was tiny, trying to find photos I can use for the blog, and I have uncovered a goldmine of awkward photos.

These are the kind of photos that would never end up in a frame. Jeff and I look tired and dishevelled and Leo is either pulling crazy newborn faces or asleep. You can see my feeding bra and I am wearing a series of the ugliest, most unflattering singlets. I am flabby and I don’t think I’d had a shower in a while.

Bless our hearts – we were doing great.

In the interests of normalising and celebrating new baby photos where everyone looks a little rough around the edges, here are a few choice selections from our family album. At the time I wouldn’t have shared these photos, but now I am so glad that they exist.

… and here are some photos from after Clem was born. Leo and I were permanently in our pyjamas and my teeth were all stained from the breastfeeding herbs I was taking. Clem had lots of pimples and a little-old-man receding hairline. Look at our smiles though, and all that tenderness.

Here are two photos that are super-special to me. One from when Leo was a week old and one when Clem was a week old. In both of them I’m tired and overwhelmed and vulnerable … and full-to-bursting with love.

You can read more about our book, with its message of compassion for tired parents and overwhelmed babies, here.

Community makes the world go round

As I get older and get to know myself better I see that a sense of community is integral to my happiness. One of my favourite authors, Brené Brown, talks about “the need to belong” and how universal it is.

As I mentioned in my post about loneliness as a new parent, we moved into a new area right before Leo was born, so we hadn’t had a chance to build up a local support network. In fact we didn’t meet our neighbours on either side until he was several months old. Once I had made friends and some new babies were born and other families moved into the street I felt like we were ‘home’.

Summertime is always lovely for getting to know people because we are all out of doors more. The photo above is from a very happy era on our street where the kids were toddlers and they played out the front until dusk.

Having a baby/kid is a great way of meeting new people. There’s mothers’ groups and playgroups, and when they are older there’s preschools and primary schools.

Any time I spend doing something that builds community gives back ten-fold. When I think of what community means, I think of:

Stepping out your front door and having someone to say “hi” to
Your kid playing with a neighbour’s kid
Helping someone with their pram going down the stairs
Giving a nod of solidarity and compassion when you see a parent with a tantruming toddler
Starting a meal train, or dropping some food off to a family when they’ve just had a baby or are having a tough time
Using collective buying power to start a food co-op
Hosting a soup swap or a Mama Bake group
Having a street Christmas party. Easter egg hunt or other celebration
Holding a garage sale with other families
Doing a local team sport or exercise class
Doing your shopping locally
Walking or catching public transport instead of driving – you invariably meet someone
Looking out for the kids and elderly people on your street/in your block of units
Joining an online community that nourishes you
Signing a petition

When Leo was two, we held a fair in our backyard. Everyone pulled together to make food and craft to sell and together we raised $1,400 for charity.

It was one of my favourite days ever, and it’s Leo’s first memory.

The feeling of belonging to a community, or communities, makes me a kinder and happier parent because it makes me a kinder and happier person.

What does community mean to you? Please leave a comment below!

Loneliness in early parenthood

There are many levels of loneliness. The loneliness where you’re alone and wish you weren’t. Then there’s loneliness in the presence of others – where you don’t have much in common with someone or can’t communicate with them. Finally there is a kind of loneliness of the soul. A feeling you are a stranger from yourself. I think that is the worst kind of loneliness.

Early parenthood is ripe with potential for any or all of these types of loneliness.

I remember being shocked by how lonely I could feel in my precious baby’s company.

I have a distinct memory of sitting down and telling Leo (my first child) about myself much in the way you’d introduce yourself to a stranger in a bar. “My name is Beth and I was born in New Zealand…” I had no idea how to talk to my beautiful boy.

Of course this got better with time. I honed my non-verbal communication, and baby Leo learnt to talk with body language and later with words.

Another source of loneliness was that I wasn’t working for the first time in my adult life. You don’t realise how social work is until you’re not there anymore. No incidental chats in the hallway or catch ups at lunchtime. I found it hard to get out to socialise with friends (especially those without kids). It was easier to stay home that fitting in around sleeping and feeding times, plus I felt so exhausted I wasn’t a great conversationalist and didn’t feel like I had any news when asked what I had been up to. What on Earth did I do all day anyway?!

I met other mums out and about, but our conversations were fleeting and sometimes you didn’t have anything in common except that you both had a child. When I was a new mum I wanted desperately to meet my doppelgänger – someone who I had a lot in common with who also parented like me. I burned with the desire to mother alongside other mothers (much like we would have done in earlier human history). I think that this impulse was also to do with me feeling like I’d lost touch with who I was since becoming a Mum.

There is an opening in You’re Doing Great, Baby that shows the mum sitting on the couch holding her sleeping baby and staring out the window forlornly at passersby (I’m working on the painting in the top image). I remember doing this myself – feeling trapped inside stuck in a cycle of feed, play, sleep (repeat).

Jeff was away at work from eight in the morning until six or seven o’clock each night and I was desperate for his company and envious of his freedom.

Mothers groups and playgroups are great for meeting new people. It can also be very comforting (and make you feel less alone) to talk to mothers of similar aged babies who may be going through similar phases with their sleeping, feeding etc. I was lucky with my mothers’ group and have made some lasting friendships. It’s so cool to think that the kids have known each other from when they were tiny. We had moved to our area right before having Leo and I didn’t know anyone at first, so it was awesome to see familiar faces walking the streets. I’ve written more about this in my post on community.

I didn’t have a smart phone when Leo was little, but I remember what a revelation it was when I got an Ipod and could check my Facebook or email if I was sat holding him while he napped. This simultaneously made me feel more and less lonely.

Second time around with baby Clem I found it much easier to adjust to having a friend who used crying as his main form of communication. From the start I felt like we understood one another.

Clem’s birth coincided with a golden era of podcasts: notably the three S’s: Startup, Strangers and Serial. I credit podcasts with making me feel so much less lonely in that early time.

I’ve also become a lot happier in my own company in recent years and don’t feel the need to leave the house for lots of social input. However I was happily telling my friend Tamie this and she laughed because she pointed out that I’ve made my own company so I’m never alone – Leo is amazing company and we can happily have a day at home playing boardgames and chatting. Clem and I sing nursery rhymes (he claps along) and sit out in the garden or sort the laundry together.

What were your experiences of loneliness in parenthood? Please leave a comment below, and subscribe to our newsletter so we can keep you in the loop with the project.

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A first Mothers’ Day

3 generations — Leo, me and my mum on Mothers’ Day, 2010

Wishing all the mothers out there a happy Mothers’ Day.

The first mothers’ day I celebrated as a mum was a joyful day. We saw my mum and I got to wish her a heartfelt happy Mothers’ Day – aware of the highs and lows that motherhood brings.

Leo was 5 months old and I was recovering from postnatal depression and finding my way as a new parent. Jeff and I were renegotiating our relationship now that there were three people in our family and our responsibilities and lifestyle had changed so much. I was getting to know Leo, forging an identity for myself outside of work, and forgiving myself for all the things that had been different from how I’d hoped (such as breastfeeding)… It was a tender, wonderful, intense time.

It is memories like these that inspired Jeff and I to write You’re Doing Great, Baby. It’s the book we wish we’d had when Leo was born – telling us that we were doing great, that our baby was doing great, and that we were going to make it through those early sleepless months just by hanging in there, taking each day at a time and reaching out for support when we need it.

This morning I was treated to breakfast in bed, made by Leo who is now five years old. Baby Clem was climbing all over the bed, and I was counting my blessings.

We are going to be writing more about our story and our progress writing and illustrating the book. We hope you’ll come along on the journey with us.

The biggest thing I’ve ever done (apart from having kids)

This book feels so important to me. Like a pressing thing that we’ve got to get done because when it comes to fruition it might make a difference to someone’s life. In my wildest dreams, it could make a difference to lots of people’s lives.

Working on it and thinking about its message of loving yourself, despite all the mistakes you might make and how unsure and uncomfortable you feel, has certainly changed my life.

The thing that makes Jeff and I laugh about what we’re doing (writing, illustrating, designing, self-publishing and marketing a book) is that behind every part of it is a profession people work years to master. And we are trying to do it all! What hubris! But we are doing it anyway. Continue reading The biggest thing I’ve ever done (apart from having kids)