DAY 1 – Love is a “Super Power”

Mum Stuff

What a wild ride birth was. The most intense and yet incredible experience I’ll likely ever have and one I already dream about having again; yet don’t think I will.

Born a 3:05am on Wednesday the 29th of January 2020 little Maverick came into our lives and has already left the biggest impression on our hearts. I honestly didn’t know how I could possibly love anymore after Isaac and my heart has shown me yet again what it is capable of; which is much more than I ever give it credit for.

We are buggered! Mylo is currently napping in my bed for what could be one minute or two hours depending on the needs of our new babe and I.  No one’s really sure but he will take what he can get  and I am on the biggest euphoric high, reclining in the chair in the corner of the hospital room getting very distracted from typing to stare at our littlest bundle.

But I needed to write, I needed to take these thoughts and feelings permanently out of my head before I forget them because as I learnt from my precious babe number one, the only thing that is certain is change and that change happens so fast. I never want to forget these feelings in these moments because they will never be again.

I’ve decided that love is in fact a “Super Power”. A power that we all possess, yet if we don’t learn to channel it and use it regularly, constantly even, we will more than likely never experience it’s true ability to transform our lives.

Children have the most amazing way of showing us and being to us exactly what we need to learn in the way of love without us even knowing that we needed it or realising that we were their students in the first place.

If only we could do for one another what we would do for our offspring the world would be such a wonderful place. Although I guess on the flipside of that, “hell hath no fury like that of a mother protecting her young” so I can see how it can turn sour pretty quickly. But what if we remembered that the fury we were directing was towards someone else’s child who many not have received the same love that we are showering on our own. What if we realised that possibly the very behaviours that are triggering extreme emotions in ourselves are actually just cries for help and desperation to experience connection and the person exhibiting them can sense that you could give it to them but they don’t know how to ask.

We are a funny little species, the human race, and how our unmet needs manifest into behaviours is downright bizarre sometimes if you ask me, but I pray that we would be able to use our “Super Power” to respond positively and heal each other rather than use is as a weapon against each other. I’m sure I’m way too tired to really think this through based on how my hands are shaking on the keyboard as I’m typing and I’m micro-napping every now and then but I believe the key to this, our “Super Power”, is by giving it unconditionally. The moment we remove, limit, restrict our love due to not liking or understanding the interactions and behaviours we are having and witnessing  with another our love becomes conditional and we lose all the “Super” out of the “Power” making it just a normal battle where really, there is no winner. By choosing to be unconditional regardless of the other party we soar above it all and we all win in the end. It may not look like a traditional victory but both of us would leave the situation forever changed for the better.

I’m not going to fight this next micro-nap, let’s ponder this more later.

Kel

xxx

There’s a sweet pea in my belly…

Pregnancy

And so here we are… filled with joy, butterflies and a touch of fear of the unknown.

 

We somehow managed to conceive a baby whilst I was still weaning Isaac and yet to gain my cycle back. Mylo and I were just two kids rediscovering life and each other once their little boy had finally decided to sleep through the night and then next minute BOOM we’re “knocked up”. It took us a considerable amount of time to work this out given that we

  1. Weren’t trying so it wasn’t on our radar…..and
  2. I didn’t have a cycle so we had nothing to tip us off that this might be the case.

One Monday morning I took a trip to the doctor to ask some questions around why I had recently been vomiting, feeling rather faint and my vagina was on fire!!! I had taken a pregnancy test the night before (so kindly gifted to me at Bambi’s baby shower) and it was negative so I assured her I wasn’t pregnant. Firstly, she informed me I had thrush which having only ever had it once before (when on antibiotics) I was confused because this was like I’d sprinkled chilli flakes down there not all weird white discharge. Anyhoo, she assured me that this was easily fixed with a tablet and that we should run some blood work to ensure I was in good nick for when the time did come for us to try and conceive again. She told me that until six months had passed we wouldn’t be going down the “infertility path”. These words horrified me because thus far on this parenthood journey we have been incredibly blessed, albeit one miscarriage, but still so incredibly blessed with our ability to conceive with ease. Having had so many friends that for one reason or another had struggled to conceive and to have their bodies hold onto the baby I knew it was much more common than people often thought and not off the cards. Perhaps watching so closely and being involved in some cases as dear friends lived out their days of infertility had left me with an absolute sense of knowing for what may lie ahead and it was not a path I wanted to go down.  I left the doctor that day hurriedly as Isaac “linked it” in the surgery I had no referral for blood work, a flaming “hoo-ha” and a deflated heart at the notion of potentially facing an uphill climb to bring Isaac a sibling.

All those emotions are to be unpacked at another time but for now on with the story.

I took the tablet and my bits did not recover, they were still on fire and I was not happy. Sunday night rolled around and I couldn’t even tell you why but I did another pregnancy test. The fainest, pink line you’ve ever seen showed up on that stick. So faint I kept thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me. I looked, looked away, looked again, squinted, held it close, held it far, moved to better light, used a spotlight, went to less light. It seemed to still be there…

The morning came and I woke to my usual alarm clock of Isaac at around 6am. I didn’t wee. We got ready and went out for our morning coffee and on the way stopped at woollies waiting not so patiently for them to open, I was busting and I was anxious. I bought a pregnancy test and went straight to the public toilets and peed on that stick. An incredibly strong pink line appeared almost instantly.

We went to coffee that morning with our usual dates Mara and Isla and life seemed normal. I went to the doctor to finish the appointment from the week previous which as we know had ended in mass evacuation due to the ticking time bomb known as Bam detonating. I walked in the door and said, “I’m pregnant” to which she swiftly responded, “I told you so”. What I heard next wasn’t my greatest moment. “Sit tight for a bit because the tablet you took last week can cause miscarriage and so we want to make sure it’s out of your system before we get too far ahead of ourselves”. This pregnancy was by no means unwanted, unexpected? Yes, but not unwanted. I instantly felt so disappointed and guilty that I might cause myself to go through what I had already endured previously. I felt for my heart, how heavy it would feel, how painfully it would ache and for my body, to have to experience something that yes is only natural yet still taxing, and for it to be not of natural causes but of my own interference.

I had a blood test to try and work out how pregnant I was and so that we could take a referral to the hospital. That afternoon the doctor called and said “you’re somewhere between two and five weeks pregnant but I am erring on the side of two. Get through the next seven days and assuming all is well then come in and we will organise ultrasounds and get this ball rolling”. This confused the hell out of me as given my recent fire crotch episode, which as it turns out is caused by being pregnant, Mylo and I hadn’t had sex for two weeks.

I told Mylo that afternoon by dressing Bam in a onesie which said “BIG BROTHER BAM” on it. He said “where did you get that from? What does it say? What does that mean? WHAT? HOW? Well this is sooner than expected!” His reaction was about on point for how left field this was for us and yet I burst into tears anyways (pregnancy hormones???) Not sure what I expected his reaction to be honestly, I feel like in that moment there wouldn’t have been a right one. I had been desperate to tell him all day and there was so much build up for me that the come down was rough haha and this poor guy was on the receiving end of that.

Sport training was on for the other kids and dinner needed to be made so “on with the show” and we would talk about it later. One of the many differences between first and second babies that I was yet to discover.

Mylo called me from the car at AFL training and said, “babe obviously I’m excited that we are having another baby, I just didn’t expect it to be this soon, the odds were not in our favour but I should have known this would happen based on how easily it’s happened before. Don’t be upset, I love you, I just need to process it all, we will talk tonight in bed”.

#husbandoftheyear

We talked and it was wonderful and we would sit tight until we knew the external factors for miscarriage had passed.

The week went by and I was still with child, relief flooded my body and I started to accept that this was real. I feel like I wasn’t investing in it until we survived that week for the obvious reason of protecting my heart.

We booked an ultrasound to find out how far along we were and I booked it for later rather than earlier given that if we went too early the little tacker would be too small to detect and get a heart beat on. So off we went some time later (what I thought was seven weeks) and low and behold there the little rascal was, just hanging out at the dayspa, staying all warm and snuggly. “Nine and a half weeks” they said, “you’re due Australia Day”.

Ok, so further along than we expected but that was excellent news because I felt like I’d been keeping this secret far too long already. A few people knew because I was already well and truly vomiting and off food but for the most part it was on the down low.

This did make more sense as to when we quarantined my hoo-ha though so all seemed well in the world.

So there you have it, I’m having a baby which will make our babies roughly nineteen months apart. We had planned on about a two year gap, although I would have been happy to try once I got the all clear at six weeks postpartum (crazy I know). I don’t know when would have been a good time to try again if it was a conscious decision because once you have a child, forever more life is more difficult to coordinate and quite literally the thought of fitting more in is thoroughly overwhelming. In saying that we are absolutely wrapped at the idea and reality that Bam will have a sibling and are beyond stoked with our latest little creation busily growing away inside of me.

 

So here’s to the next chapter in the “Fun Field Days” ahead of us and to the adventures they will bring. I can’t wait to share it with you all along the way. The ups, the downs, the good the bad, the happy, the sad. I’ll share it all because that’s what I do, and to be honest I can’t wait!!!

9 Months In. 9 Months Out

Mum Stuff

Well isn’t this an absolute treat for us all. If you’ve already seen my Instagram account you would have had you’re eyes treated to the most wonderful sight of me in my undies. Standout I know and clearly a pathetic grab at more followers (jokes… I think I have lost followers since posting it and followers weren’t actually at the forefront of my thought process. In actual fact I don’t even have enough followers to warrant any thoughts if they were to come into my mind and in reality probably only my mum saw the post).

9 months in 3

That aside, I posted my #9monthsin9monthsout pic. Traditionally this is an opportunity for two types of women. Ones who have an incredible genetic predisposition to look good no matter what their bodies go through or how they treat them and the ones who have a little thing I like to call “discipline and self control”. They get their butts into active wear for more than a coffee and when they do have coffee they stop at the coffee and don’t accompany it with a sweet treat or a cheese and bacon roll. These women are incredible and I encourage them to always share these pics of themselves because if I looked that good I’d probably be posting bikini pics of myself twice daily. I do however have a sneaking decision that we are only seeing the “1%” out there on socials.

I get it!!! It wasn’t the most pleasant feeling pressing “share” and made me quite nervous. Oddly enough, the nerves didn’t come from the men in my life that might see it, I felt more nerves about the women who might see it and what they’d think. You see as women i think we really battle to build each other up (there I said it), especially in the realm of motherhood and not because we are nasty little pieces of work but rather our own insecurities about how well we are doing at this mum gig creep in and we feel better when we hear other people are struggling and we get busy trying to prove we’re “killing it” or at least have it perceived that we are keeping it all together.

I firmly believe that just because you find motherhood difficult at times does not mean  you don’t enjoy being a mother. Desperately wanting your baby to take a nap so you can have some down time does not equate to being ungrateful that you have a child. Contemplating the idea of giving your baby Phenergan or a nip of brandy in their bottle so you can get a full nights sleep does not reflect your inability to appreciate the beautiful moments in the still and dark of the nights where your little one calls upon you for comfort.

Anyways all of that to say, that I’m not one of these women and I am, despite the nerves, ok with that. It’s quite the cliche to say I’m so proud of my body and what it’s done for my baby and blah blah blah as it goes; i really am. More importantly though I am so amazed at the fact that becoming a mum has been without a doubt the most selfless thing I’ve ever done and my body is actually purpose built to help me do that. The hormones that are released to help you get through birth, cope with the sleepless nights, be patient with your baby, love your partner, make milk and all the rest are astounding. I feel a little bit sorry for the boys because I’m over here like a super hero with these special powers and there’s Mylo with a double espresso trying to get the same effect.

I have given every single ounce of myself, every ounce of my being to raising this boy as big and strong as I can and we are nearly through the first year. I could almost say we are nearly out of the trenches (or is something coming I’m unaware of, if so can someone  be so kind and please give me a heads up). I may not have my body back but I have without a doubt dedicated 100% of this time to enjoying my wee babe, growing him, loving him, nurturing him, feeding him and teaching him. In the same way with our family I have been enjoying our new dynamic, helping ease the changes as we grow, loving my husband (who suddenly gets a lot less attention), nurturing our little tribe, feeding Mylo as he goes to work each day on very little sleep and with a lot less patience but still striving to do the best job he can and learning alongside him how to be a nice human when you feel a little bit like you might be dying on the inside.

I can sense the change in the air and it’s both welcomed and resented in the same breathe because it means I might not have a reason to wear stretch pants all the time; jokes… but seriously… I know we won’t ever be able to live this time again and yet I need this time to draw to a close for my own sanity. Bam loves being with other people and our little community are more than competent to care for him. Mylo is really stepping into his own as a dad being able to do more and more now that Isaac does things other than just feed and sleep. We are now staring down the barrel at work, more babies, daycare and date nights; it’s all uncharted territory.

mum bod

So this is my body after the most selfless year of my life and there will be more seasons like it I’m sure but for now we are onto the business of being an example to our child of what health, fitness and self care look like. As we embark on this journey I invite you to share with me yours and hopefully find encouragement in mine because let me tell you there is no more an arresting conviction like knowing that your child watches every single thing you do to make you put down the spoon and tub of Ben & Jerry’s at 9am.

Here’s to us ladies (and dad’s) for producing our greatest work of art, our greatest gift to this world and to regaining a sense of self in the process.

 

***NB: I in no way endorse giving babies any form of drugs or alcohol for any reason. Should this be an idea that keeps popping into your head please give me a shout out and I will come on over and have a cup of tea with you to talk it out. We can make a plan or I can even take care of bub for a few hours so you can get some rest, get your hair done or whatever else it might be that fills your cup right on up.