#2615 A new family coffee time

Within this never-ending cycle we seem to be in –

Crying changing feeding.
Not sleeping.
Crying changing feeding.
Awake time.
Beetroot face.
Crying changing feeding.
Look, he copied our tongue!
We’re now crying too –

We had to change the pace today while baby boy was napping. We quickly put him in the car while still in the asleep part of the cycle, for some afternoon interjection of coffee.

Finally, out with my whole family! It really is the little things. πŸ™β€

Then back home, and back to the eat awake nap scream cycle we went…

#2613 Post-partum musings and survival

My, how things can change in a day. Both for good, AND bad.

Parenthood is a rollercoaster. Yesterday I was laughing about my newfound love of MAFS, feeling confident at my combined 8 hours of sleep from mid-week (broken into 5 blocks of course), and I also totally smashed out the evening routine… after I fed baby boy and put him down, he lay there happily looking about, eyeing out his owl mobiles on the cot, while I did the dishes, unloaded the dishwasher, made some rice, and got almost all of dinner underway, as well as putting on washing and taking it in.

I was so pumped, I very nearly decided to walk to a cafe with him early morning, but alas it was near feeding time and you cannot delay a newborn’s meal time.

Alas, today, the complete opposite. Overnight was hard. So very hard. Combined awake time for 3 hours, and then after a very short nap, baby boy woke, extremely irritated, fussy, crying. Nothing seemed to appease him.

Perhaps the worst of it? My mental state. I had reached my limit. After 3 weeks of lacklustre sleep, I could barely keep my eyes open. The fatigue was debilitating, and I was struggling not just with that, but with the mental capacity to hold him, tend to him, keep him happy, work out what was wrong, etc.

Today when he wouldn’t stop crying as I tried to prepare my breakfast, I kinda lost the plot.

I had reached the end point. I couldn’t do it anymore.

I get emails from COPE, and have been since I was registered with the hospital where I had baby boy. They send information relating to your stage of the journey from pregnancy, all the way to the 4th trimester, post-partum with baby. It stands for Centre of Perinatal Excellence, and I have been enjoying the emails, taking refuge and insight into information that might be helpful to me.

Today though, the email topic was about self-care. I could’ve laughed if I didn’t have tears running down my cheek.

‘Surround yourself with a village, to help you achieve much needed self-care.’ Reading that sentiment, I never felt more alone.

Feeling physically isolated is one thing. But feeling the emotional isolation is a whole other damning ball-game. I don’t have the luxury of people stopping in, providing me with relief, support, a shoulder to cry on. Everyone is too far. everyone is too busy.

People think that the days surrounding coming home with baby are the most important. In many ways, people crowd you and are there all at once – then promptly leave you alone to your own devices.

Your mental thoughts, and your very, very tough, devices.

Don’t get me wrong. I have had much support from friends and family around me… via text. But my situation is damning in more ways than one. Because I can’t be bothered, I’m tired, I don’t know what to say… yet at the same time I need someone so bad, someone to puncture the monotony of the day, to make the helplessness go away.

The baby blues are a real thing. Could it be more? I’m not sure. My mood from starting this post to the end has already shifted, and so it goes that of course my hormones are still going a mile a minute, heading in one direction before promptly putting on the brakes and heading elsewhere.

Some people don’t know how easy they have it. One influencer I follow on social media who had her baby boy a month before I did, posted an honest account of how she looks so put-together so soon after giving birth… she said it’s only because she has dozens of family, friends, all kinds of people coming in and out of her house, helping her with the baby, helping her get by.

She has a village. Many, many people don’t.

I never felt so alone as I did after reading that. I had Hubbie for just over two weeks, but he needs to work. He had to go back to work this week. And I am left struggling and balancing the physical and mental load of caring for two children, one who is finding his way in the world, and then there’s me, who is struggling finding herself after wanting another child for so long.

The baby blues don’t discriminate. Depression doesn’t discriminate with what you wanted, who you were, where you are. your age, your hair colour, whether you write a gratitude blog or not.

The nights are long… and the days follow suit. Sunlight is there, but what use is it when you are cooped up all day in the house, tending to a crying, fussing baby?

I love my baby, so, so much. But three weeks of physical and mental exhaustion, and I am so, so tired.

So, where is the gratitude here? I’ve nearly survived a week. A week where Hubbie has been back at work. It has been incredibly hard. I try to remind myself that this time now is the hardest… maybe we will get relief at times… maybe things will regress, again.

The unknowingness has me rattled. Has me stressed.

I know I have made it this far. It’s just fucking hard. And to think, I prayed for this for so long.

Again, depression doesn’t discriminate.

#2610 What she said no. 16

I sat on the couch this evening with a sigh. In the background hubbie carried baby boy as he cried, “shh, shh, shushing” away.

It was his turn, edition 2,367 of the ‘why is baby boy crying?’ project.

Baby girl saw my dismay and exhaustion and immediately sprung to action. She sat right beside me and put her arm around my shoulders, giving me a sweet, compassionate smile.

“Don’t be sad Mum. You’re doing a great job.”

I smiled appreciatively back at her, about to reply, but she added…

“It’s just that baby boy won’t listen to you.”


Lol. And she would know all about that, right?

So well put darling. Thank you. πŸ˜πŸ’ž

#2607 Nappy changes

The baby blues are a very real thing, and I’m trying my hardest to combat them.

I’m using all my years of practise with this gratitude blog to apply to these difficult days and quite frankly, depressing nights. Cluster feeding, minimal sleep, a crying newborn… no matter how much we wanted a child, the above is a concoction to make any person question themselves while going mad, especially when the above happens night after night.

But, little things, as usual. I noticed something last night during a nappy change, and it happened today too. Baby boy usually SCREAMS THE HOUSE DOWN during these, turning red, holding his breath, breaking the normal decibel levels… you know, the usual.

But at these two occasions, and it was a dirty nappy too both times, I might add… he was not screaming! He was looking around, taking it all in, totally peaceful, just chill, relax… so much less stressful for me! Just amazing. 2, out of 250 nappy changes so far, but still, it’s something.

Little things, for a little boy. πŸ’™

#2594 The 3rd bath

For his first two baths, baby boy has NOT been a happy camper. It would be safe to say that a tomato would be envious of the deep red colour that baby boy has been able to turn when we’ve put him in the warm shallow bath. πŸ…

But tonight, breakthrough! Whether he’s gotten used to it, is getting past that cry-at-anything stage, or maybe it really was that sprinkle of holy water in the bath…

But as soon as we lay him in, he closed his eyes and went into a peaceful state. He lay there like a boss. There’s no other way to describe it. And we gooed and gahhd, and took photos of him before getting him out of his nice, warm, watery cocoon –

And then he started crying. πŸ€¦β€β™€οΈπŸ€£

#2587 Full moon, lightning and pancakes

It is a full moon tonight in Leo.

I AM a Leo.

And I am pregnant.

Plus, I discovered a name for the ailment I’ve had lately… lightning crotch. 😫

Insert super charged emotions.

And you have yourself a super sensitive Mama.

I have been so focused on all the good from this pregnancy, and that comes to reason since this IS a gratitude blog.

But there have been difficult parts, maybe none more so than in these last couple of weeks.

And it’s not getting any easier.

I’ve been having these lightning zaps down there, and they haven’t felt nice, let me tell you. I only discovered their name last night after my gazillionth Google search, and although attributing a name to the condition made me feel somewhat less crazy, it still hurts.

Today, moving around like a seal, very slowly and with great difficulty, I asked Hubbie to get me something while out getting the groceries.

I wanted cherry pie.

I had an insane craving for it, this cherry pie from a local cafe that I used to get every now and then. I haven’t had it in so long, and for this pregnancy I’ve had to be good, so I’ve tried to stay away from things like that that were super decadent.

But I actually could not wait anymore. I said to him, I need this, NOW, and sent him off.

That hasn’t been my only craving. My proper and first craving for a couple of weeks now has been Pancake Parlour pancakes. I am convinced if I eat these pancakes, it will prompt baby to come out sooner. It happened first time around, for baby girl. I had this most amazing stack of pancakes from there, layered with bananas and smothered all over with dripping chocolate, and I ate it the day before my waters broke.

I am convinced baby girl got wind of that in my belly and went “I’m not waiting anymore, the outside world is clearly GOOD.”

But, problem. Difficulty walking, remember? Movement like a seal. Lightning crotch. The closest Pancake Parlour is 40-45 minutes away, and I’m not doing any long drives, especially with all of my current mobility issues.

I can’t even Uber the pancakes… it would be too cold by the time it got here.

So I had to go for my second, equally satisfying craving, the cherry pie.

Hubbie and baby girl came back from shopping after an hour or so. There was NO cherry pie. Not anymore. 😲🀯Some absolute bullshit reason of, the whole pie is big and takes up room in the case, and then they need to sell all of it… well then present it so it sells! The rest of the treats on offer were all pre-packaged sweets sent in from some factory crap, and Hubbie knows I would rather open a block of chocolate at home than buy a display cake that can sit in its preservative-state like that for two weeks…

So they came back empty-handed.

I, was devastated. I wanted my craving satisfied… didn’t I deserve that much? House-bound, lightning crotch, having been so good for so long, I wanted my bloody treats and I couldn’t have them.

I was so, so upset, yet also still craving something majorly… so as I started to cry, I pulled up a stool to the stove (for the reason of preventing more lightning crotch) and started making crepes. Because only I know how to do them. πŸ€¦β€β™€οΈπŸ™„

I sat there, and I made them, and I waited, and baby girl sat next to me, helping out, telling me it would be alright as tears literally rolled down my face. And Hubbie cut up the berries I wanted, and baby girl took out the Nutella, and then Hubbie made our coffees… so that by the time we sat down, I had this:

And I was crying no longer, but I had been very, very frustrated. I devoured two big crepes, loaded with Nutella and berries and I sipped my cappuccino, thinking “Fucking, only women get shit done.”

I was so grateful for my family for helping me out, yet insanely mad that the cafe didn’t make cherry pie anymore, and that there isn’t a Pancake Parlour within my vicinity.

THAT is the state of affairs at the moment guys. Tread around me super carefully… or just bring the Pancake Parlour chef to my house, please. (Or let me know if you find a proper home-made quality cherry pie from ANYWHERE).

And that my friends, is my very pregnant story of the full moon, lightning crotch and home-made pancakes. πŸŒ•βš‘πŸ₯žπŸ€°

#2544 Christmas wish list

Today was one of those mad days, as it usually is, the day before a big day.

I surprised myself early on when I made the smart decision (for once in my life) NOT to take on an extra thing that would have made me lose an hour from my day.

I tend to do this stupid thing, and I mentioned this in a post just this week, but I take on too much, and if my day is quiet, I just FIND STUFF to add on so I never actually relax.

I was going to drive down somewhere, but in thinking of the trip, how long it would take, all the other things I still had to do, I decided no, I would make do with the resources I had locally. Even with that hour not lost, I was still running around all day without a break!

But my end-of-day goal kept me going: at 8pm, sit on the couch, watch the Christmas carols, and paint my nails Christmas red.

I was 5 minutes late, but I got there.

The music was playing. The nail polish was drying for baby girl and I. The Christmas lights on the tree were twinkling.

I was slowly unwinding. Even baby could tell I was calming down, as usually when I sit down and relax baby wakes up and starts rolling and jabbing me every which way.

We somehow got onto the topic of baby girl’s list for Santa, and as we were pondering what she would get this year, Hubbie went and said, “I’m going to write my own list.”

I kinda rolled my eyes. He is always after something beer-related, car-related, or clothes/shoes-related. He has been intensely researching a pair of sneakers he wants, so I was totally expecting him to come back with that on the top of his list.

Instead, he came back with this:

I read it, and I burst out crying. Like big, uncontrollable, ugly tears. OMG, it hit me right in the heart.

Maybe it was the Christmas carols in the background. My tiredness from the non-stop day kicking in. But my emotions got the better of me, and I was so moved, so incredibly touched, and I had to admit, it was exactly what was on my wish list too.

He admitted he had thought of some other things to put on his list… 🀣 But after a second thought, realised this is what he really wanted. πŸ™

I said to him “maybe this is why we’ve struggled to buy each other presents this year. Because we have what we really want.”


Merry Christmas Eve folks. Hope all your greatest dreams come true. Never stop believing. πŸ’žπŸ’ž

#2508 An emotional Christmas tree

The photos app on my phone does that thing where it gives me memories of what I was doing this day last year, two years ago, three, etc…

On Wednesday it gave me a memory that blew my mind a little.

The date was the 16th of November. Year, 2021.

And the photo, me, Hubbie and baby girl with Santa hats on.

WHAT? That could only mean…

Yep. We had started putting up the Christmas tree.

I mean, I always plan to do it about the last week of November. That’s my thing, and it is the best thing. You feel like you get in early by starting the tree early, it’s one less thing to do in December, AND it gets you in the Christmas spirit.

What’s not to love?

I had considered doing it this weekend or next, but after seeing that photo it was decided… it was happening sooner rather than later!

Tonight, we took all the boxes and bags out, put on our Christmas pjs, our Christmas hats, and Mariah Carey went on the stereo!

Putting up Christmas stuff is a process. Even more so, being pregnant… there’s only so much bending and picking up one can take. So the only focus of tonight was doing the bare bones… assembling the tree.

And while we were doing that, it just hit me. The togetherness. The music. The love in the air.

The baby in my belly.

And I started to cry, thinking of all the Christmases that had gone, that I also loved, but where I had a deep longing, yearning that no one knew about…

This year was so different. This year my Christmas excitement, happiness, gratitude and festive cheer were DEEP.

All happy tears, all happy tears. πŸ₯²

And in a funny turn of events, even Mister F decided to help us out with our Christmas set up…

The only way he knows how!


#2467 The baby christening photo

I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy hormones or what, but I had a very teary day.

Just soooo emotional. Emotional about everything – health stuff, feeling overwhelmed, feeling stuck.

Feeling in the middle of nowhere. Feeling neither here or there.

Was it the weather? Was it the stupid neighbours’ kids beeping their car horn 20 times this morning and waking me from my deserved weekend sleep-in?

Feeling like there’s never enough time. Feeling like there’s never enough time for me. Feeling like I have so much to finally say, bursting at the seams, with no one around to finally listen to it.

I was in a sorry state.

This lasted most of the day. Punctuated by some good moments, but generally this cloud followed me around everywhere.

So much pregnancy confusion. So much life confusion. So much health confusion.

But you should be grateful! Look at what you have!

Conflicting thoughts made it that much harder.

But tonight I walked into baby girl’s room as she got ready for bed, and my gaze just lingered a little on a photo.

A photo of her in a christening frame. Her christening. In it she’s 11 months old, dressed in white, holding her cute little soft shoes on her feet, her short hair with a bit of a fringe, sweeping over her face.

This cherub, just looking so darn sweet and looking back at me.

And that was kinda the reminder I needed. The reason for my being, for accepting things as they were… because something greater, bigger, sweeter, lovelier, was coming.

A little one, just like in the photo. πŸ₯°πŸ’–πŸ€°πŸ˜

It put EVERYTHING in perspective. Suddenly I was teary, but now for a whole other reason…

Not whiny tears, but grateful ones. πŸ™πŸ™

#2445 An ode to my doctor

I would dare say that people wouldn’t often want to dedicate their blog posts to their GPs, but by the same token doctors can save lives, and in some way, so has mine.

I had a follow-up telehealth with my specialist GP this afternoon to go over some questions I had following my hospital appointment earlier this week. We ran through a few things, and when I asked her if she had to see me anytime soon, in person, she said “Well, actually it’s great you emailed me, because I did want to let you know…”

She was finishing up. Rather, she was being forced by her doctor to halt all work, so that her health issues which had resurfaced, would hopefully go away. She was trying to relocate and make sure all her current patients were going to be looked after before stepping away, and we spent the next five minutes talking about contacts and where to go from here and what to do.

“I hope you get better soon, but I’m going to miss you!” I had to say it. She had made an impact on my life. From that moment 3 years ago when I first walked into her office, she had been kind but also firm when necessary. I had cried that first appointment, knowing that the words she was telling me were true. But i also had immediate trust in her, and that’s something very hard to find with just any GP.

I listened to her instructions over the years… and then she listened to mine. I felt we had a good doctor/patient relationship. I had gone along with many of her requests, and so when it came time for me to put up my hand, she gladly obliged.

There’s not many people who see your angst, know your story, see your tears. A woman I only went to for health-related stuff, ended up being a great confidante, someone who I trusted wholeheartedly, who I still do trust to this day.

I felt quite sad hanging up. We had started this journey together. She asked me to send a photo of baby when they were born. I said “for sure!”

She really has made a difference in my life, and I only hope this hopefully temporary break helps her and she can come back to being my GP… not just for me. But there are so many others like me needing help, I know she can do so much good out there.

I sat down with you, and unveiled my hearts dreams

All my fears, my hopes and full medical history.

You listened patiently, you understood my woes

But when it was time to face facts, you let me know.

Over the years you have done so much

So many ailments to you I have trusted

And then the miracle occurred which we both couldn’t believe

Our hopes had been answered – I was having a baby

Now you need to look after your own good self

To take a break from this world of the sick and ill health

I’m hopeful when we next meet there will be more good news

I’ll have a sweet little photo of bub, just for you

Because you deserve it.

Many thanks doc. I’m forever in your debt.πŸ™πŸ’–