mothering-silence - Tumblr blog

[mothering-silence]

The 'do you want some boobie' face. . We've been so lucky enough to have been exclusively breast feeding for 4 months now, and although he is an aggressive little feeder, like an excited puppy on its mama, i still count each day as an achievement. And I cannot thank my body enough to be able to provide my little ICU BABY the correct amount of nutrition and nourishment he needs. Parker couldn't feed for the first 3 days after birth and although I was trying to hand express to stimulate my milk it just wasn't coming through and i was petrified I wouldn't be able to breast feed him. Our bodies are incredible, And we should be in awe of ourselves and our unwavering dedication to our babies, because let's face it - breast feeding means our precious bundle of joy is pretty much surgically attached to our boobs until we ween them! 😂

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Since becoming a mother, I have found myself really supporting local, family run bespoke businesses. I can only imagine how hard it is to combine mothering and also running a business from home, I guess a huge check list of jobs goes on daily, I have a daily check list just for me and the troops to get from one day to the other never mind running a successful busy business! I stumbled across a lovely page on Facebook called 'Pretty Little Prints', which offer a range of printed products from personalised framed prints, key rings to cushions and sideboards. The products have a great sense of love and very thoughtfully packaged with cute bows on the frames and well protected if posted out to you. I have over the last year brought many products from Stacey the owner of 'Pretty Little Prints', personalised Mother's Day presents, a birth announcement framed print, cushion, key ring and her latest products are personalised Christmas cards. (I will also be placing a huge Christmas present order for family members, they really are truly fab quality). If there is ever a product you would like and personalised a little different to what's advertised, Stacey's customer service skills are second to non, I have requested key rings with a different message ect... and she never fails to deliver a high quality print in her products. My favourite product I have received so far is a personalised family cushion, which is an amazing addition to my daughters room, and it comes with a super plump fluffy filling. The printing is clear, colourful and no signs of wear and tear or fading. If your looking for a little special something this Christmas, that's personal and carries a lot of love and thought, I cannot recommend this bespoke home run company enough. Www.facebook.com/prettylittleprintsbystacey B x

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My darling Livy, You are my beautiful middle girl. 19 months old and changing before my eyes from a chubby little baba into a lean, sweet yet stubborn character. All big blue eyed, sweet blonde lashes and brows, fizzy blonde hair and that cheeky pegged toothed smile. I catch a glimpse of you sometimes and you take my breath away. If you take a nap in my arms, I love to watch you sleep. I can’t believe that something so gorgeous and perfect came from daddy and me. You are strong willed, fiercely independent to the point of stubbornness, have an unquenchable need to climb and screech and wind your brother up and never want to sit still. A typical tomboy in so many ways, always happy when you’ve got mud or sand at your feet, finding scraps of food on the floor to eat, smearing jam across your face or putting nappies on your head. When announced that your younger brother was on the way, family commented that you were always destined to be a middle child. The general consensus tells us that middle children are troublesome and awkward little sods. Resentful of their older sibling who has done everything first and is normally the golden child, and jealous of their younger sibling who will always be the baby of the family. Often rebellious, trying to catch their parents’ attention by doing something naughty or dangerous. And at the time, before you could even walk you was starting to climb on to windowsills and tv cabinets, you were all of those things. In bucketloads. People would smile and nod, knowingly, when they saw me dragging you along the pavement, wailing because I wouldn’t let you run into the road, with your older brother in tow and my pregnant belly on show, the naughty middle child they’d think. She'll be the one who turns her Mum’s hair grey and keeps her awake at night. Well, my darling girl, in lots of ways they we're right. You are a non-stop bundle of energy and enthusiasm. Verging from sweet and extremely loving to a raging screaming, stomping mess and back again in the blink of an eye, yours is the name that I shout in frustration most often 'Livvvvvy!', head in hands, and for this I am sorry. I’m sorry that you weren’t the first person I loved unconditionally – your big brother took that prize. I’m sorry that you’ve never had all of my undivided attention, coming second in line as you did. And you won’t be the last person to make me cry when you say, “mama” for the first time. That honour will go to your baby brother. I’m sorry that your baby brother pushes you away when you cuddle me because he wants me all to himself, although you graciously nod as if you understand and gently bow your head to kiss him, which makes me weep a little inside. How can you be so understanding, patient and grown up already, your unique set back in life has formed you into a such a sweet little monster. You over power your deafness by your strong personality, For this I believe you will achieve great things in life. I’m sorry that you won’t be the first one to start school, to learn to ride your bike and to swim. Luka gets all that stuff. Doesn’t mean we won’t cheer you on like we did him though, and praise every achievement, however small, in the way that you applaud your baby brother’s first wobbly steps, arms outstretched to you, his beloved sister. I’m sorry that you’ll always be compared to your big brother. All those milestones, recorded and compared for ever more. First steps, first words, first time you slept through the night. But something tells me you’ll flourish in school, career and in life once you set your mind to it. Plus you are a much better fighter and can run faster, climb faster than your big brother already. But being a middle child has given you so much too. You are confident and outgoing, self assured and sure of yourself. You don’t follow the pack, but make up your own rules and run with them, not caring whether anyone else wants to join you. Yup, that’s how things work in your World. You are a great negotiator, a skill you’ve developed, if you want that dummy you screech. You want that teddy your brother has been holding for the last hour and you've just noticed, you screech and stomp. And you are smart enough to know because I’ve got your brothers to contend with too, just how far to push things. And push things you do! Desperate to be a ‘big girl’, you hero worship your big brother, learn so much from him and love to be involved in his games, tagging along with him and screaming in delight because you've gotten the chance to be allowed into his world. But you also love to play with your baby brother, spending hours showing him your love and devotion. Always kissing him and hugging him whilst beaming of pride and are fiercely protective of him, so much so that you’ll tell off any other children or adult who come too close to your baby. You are excited to go to nursery, and not at all phased by any of it. You excel in your creative and imagination play and you've got that wiggle jiggle down to a T, you're the next adventurer to grace this earth, no fear runs through your veins. You are so, so proud when you have delightfully coat yourself top to toe in mud. You are most happiest when you've stomped into the muddiest puddle before your brother, food time is like heaven on earth, exploring all tastes and textures whether that be in your mouth or rubbed into those precious blonde curls. And the way, your little chest swells with pride, smiling like a Cheshire Cat at the fact you're older brother is mortified you've crapped in the bath, not for the first or neither the last time. So, for not being my first or my last love, I’m sorry. But you, my precious middle girl, will always be right there in the very middle of my heart. Life is never dull with you around, and your cheeky Peggy toothed grin can brighten even the darkest of days, especially when accompanied with your well timed favourite phrase, “mum mum". For all your exasperating, maddening, hair tearing out behaviour, I wouldn’t change you, or your place in the middle of our family, for the whole World. I love you, Alivia-Ellen Autumn Czyz

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Before 2015 hit me in the face, like a giant ice cold bucket of water. I had never imagined what I would discover once I became a mother, you will discover a world of unknown, and become apart of it. Something you never knew existed…

I couldn’t have given a solid crap about these parenting groups, these mothering fandoms, and certainly not ‘CBeebies’ or 'Nick JNR’, motherhood was something boring friends did who had no life, they no longer could socialise or focus like a normal adult. (Until now I am deeply ashamed of myself for these thoughts!)

Since I have boarded the boat, I have sailed through, Mums and tots groups - where you’re all far too exhausted to talk so you acknowledge each other’s existence by the odd grunt and glance, as if to say 'this isn’t what I expected and quite frank a little shit’.

Or simply the mothers that beam of pride, over their little joys and cooing consistently… Like where did she get that type of energy from?

The clicky mothers who simply stick together like glue and practically gossip the whole session blanking every mother below their groups standard.

And lastly, know it all, over corrects everyone, cannot get an word in edge ways mothers. We all know at least one of these groups.

Facebook support groups of knackered women giving eachother a moral amount of support whilst we Breast feed. When we are feeling like you no longer can physically sit up and nursing your tiny bundle, consistently fighting the little voice in your head that’s telling you to give up and bottle feed, so you convince yourself to do this even though your nipples are falling off and you haven’t closed your eyes to gain a couple of minutes sleep in approx 8 weeks, and sadly it doesn’t get easier.

But then, we discovered the greatest gift of man kind. The gift that provides us a spare millisecond to race to the loo, pop the kettle on or Bung a load of washing in the washing machine that’s currently been washed and dried 3 times before but you keep forgetting to pack away, so it stays on the dining room table awaiting tiny hands to lob it across the floor for its next wash… there it is the CBeebies and 'Nick JNR’ Fandom.

Our religion.

I find myself brimming of self confidence from 'The wise old elf’, and I’ve learnt I am now never wrong! I have learnt the obnoxious behaviour from 'Peppa Pig’. Yes I once had a dream about Mr Tumble (scary shit). But I truly class peppa pig as ‘family’, as my family. I see them on a daily basis. I know them inside out. I get excited to see them once the opening theme song begins, I sit thinking to myself wondering what they’re upto today. I think find myself acting out the whole programme because I have seen this episode 327 times during my 3 and a half years service of being a mother. And do you know what?! I learn stuff TOO!!! ‘Mr tumble’ quite clearly is the dog’s bollocks. And of course, Mr Tumble. What more could you want in a man? He taught my child to touch his nose. Blink three times. And then off it goes. Oh, and how to sign ‘ice lolly’ Because that’s useful, so now everytime we set foot in the shop, I now have two children licking their hands, overly ecstatically, overjoyed and rather proud of themselves, when really I look like I’m raising two chimps.

Sometimes when my child is napping I still watch the overly happy yet creepy Mr tumble. On my own. Without a child, when they’re at nursery I find myself flicking for Ben and holly’s little kingdom whilst enjoying a rare undisturbed cuppa. I miss my family when they aren’t there. Is that a bit sad? Perhaps it is. I care not.

But In these mothering worlds we find solace. Kinship. Sisterhood. A knowing that need not be said. I find this in my Childrens tv fandom. I imagine all the parents out there singing to 'Hi I’m peppa pig this is my little brother George’, together. (It is the best theme tune EVER!)

I am imagining you all singing along to the bedtime song, wishing your children would go the fuck to sleep. I see you all signing the Mr Tumble song. (We all get great satisfaction out of doing all the actions don’t we!) I regularly discus with the other adults just how fucking TRIPPY In The Night Garden is. But my point is, CBeebies brings us all together, our family come together in silence completely gazing in a haze to makka pakka’s slightly odd behaviour. A parenting mecca. And now we have Tom Hardy and the bedtime story. On a monthly basis. It’s like 'Cbeebies’ know we’re having a rough time, keeping our houses standing, stopping your children from killing each other daily, answering the same damn question from your demon toddler 'what’s that’, 'Cbeebies and Nick JNR’ you rock. ✌🏼️

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You can do this, even if your nipples feel like they're falling off and you haven't shut your eyes in the last 3 weeks." The feels when your newborn is cluster feeding hourly and you give yourself a little prep talk into not giving up. 😩

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"But all you do is look after the children" All I do is... "I haven't taken a piss alone since my first kid arrived 940 days ago. I haven't had a full nights sleep since I gave birth 2 years 7 months ago because my life is ruined. I am currently counting down the days I am due to go to work for nothing other than respite and as well as raising these three tiny terrors 24 hours a day I also separate 400 fights a day, prepare and pick up 3 meals a day off the damn floor, sacrificed my body and my boobs to be able to nourish these tiny masterpieces. I tidy the same damn toys away day in day out, i wash the same clothes that I dried and folded the day before simply because I forgot to pack them away and left them on the dining table - Which now Livy has swiped and played with on the floor and joyfully in desperation count down the hours for 7pm arrive - BED TIME. But most importantly for 6pm - dad arrives home, where I make a run for the kitchen faster than Bolt in a 100m race. The only fucking thing I don't do here, is take time for myself". Of course I didn't say any of that, to the just as equally tired father of my children, while imagining a slow painful torture for him, wanting to punch him in the balls. I welcomed his comment with an uneasy smile through gritted teeth and into our loving well kept family home Which beams of PRIDE - our beautiful children in a immaculate house full of laughter love and smiles... In reality i then looked around at the fact they looked like street urchins living in a large squat. A fridge begging for a shop with healthy goodies. Half eaten bits of lunch on the floor, two toddlers covered in paint, clay, chocolate, Ham and cheese. And myself being a far cry from the glamorous mum i imagined myself to be whilst in my gullible teens, hair that's crying to be washed, a breast milk stained, sick on the shoulder top, mix matched outfit and a face that hasn't seen a good ABH highlighter and contour for days. But thanks for reminding me, It's an amazing job you do, socialising with actual ADULTS. Not babies or toddlers, come home in one clean piece - and it's not one I'd want for all the tea in China. Anyway, cheers - to all the mums out there trying their very best to do right thing for their babies and dealing with shit like this. We got this 🙌🏼😂😄

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Mummies. We all experience good days and bad days, great days, normal days, overwhelming days and perfect days or trying days, supermum days to testing days and just being a mum days. It takes a whole lot of patience, love, realism, strength, smiles, warmth, tears and tantrums to be a mum warrior. So when you feel like your having a bad day, or feel like your just not doing enough or good enough days, please note your doing a fantastic job regardless. ✌🏼️❤️

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Treated myself before becoming a mummy of 3. New hair 😍❤️✌🏼️

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Freedom of speech?

It’s like it clearly doesn’t exist anymore. What happened to accepting everybody’s individual opinions, options and difference?

I was scrolling down my Instagram feed this morning when a celebrity stated she was feeling awful, sick and not enjoying pregnancy, she quoted “I hate growing babies”. I happened to tap comments because I knew there was going to be a divide.

- Specially the ones who always protest in never ever saying anything bad about pregnancy, what about all the women who can’t have babies.

And although that’s very true, my heart seriously does reach out to every single woman, man and families who try with no success. The pain they must endure is unthinkable, carrying the feeling of worthlessness of a man or woman.

But I also think there should be more honesty of how women think and feel during their pregnancy! We’re not being disrespectful, that we are blessed to have fallen pregnant and growing this tiny little miracle in our bodies. What we are trying to say is it’s not an easy ride. And that it is ok to admit we have struggled, gained multiple illnesses or complications during this time. I know from experience and on my third pregnancy, I have had a completely different journey with each one.

Luka-James - was an amazing pregnancy, couple of reduced fetal movement towards the last weeks. But the labour experience was the most horrendous.

Alivia-Ellen - the pregnancy was just completely awful. I was so poorly. Continuously admitted into hospital. She refused to move on many occasions. And was born at 37w by C-section. Her delivery was perfect, no complications and recovery was the best so far.

Little Czyz - perfect pregnancy, very active baby felt great until the third trimester and suffering continuous hemiplegic migraines. I feel exhausted. Weak. Bruised and the next 4 weeks cannot hurry up! I’m so over with pregnancy right now.

Although I’ve had a mixture of experiences I can’t say I’ve enjoyed every single step of the way. I absolutely adore my children, but I have at some point detested pregnancy, this current last trimester is spent moaning 90% of the time.

I really think women should not be battered by the social media parenting or mummy police, for experiencing a different feeling towards something we have gone through. Pregnancy isn’t the most incredible, enjoyable and easy time of our lives, it sure ends that way. But sometimes some of us aren’t that lucky to experience great things both ends, after all if we type in all our symptoms into Google I’m sure it’d be recommending us to call a ambulance out everyday!

Pregnancy is a powerful individual thing. We should embrace everybody’s differences and not feel the need to correct or criticise each other. ✌🏼️❤️

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That Tuesday. I remember not quite sleeping that Monday night, I was on google during every feed. As she lay there close to my body, sensing a form of protection and secure bonding from breast feeding I felt I was doing all I could to make the start of her life better. I must have read about 100 forums, disability pages, how the structure of hearing loss is measured - you name it I became a pro of hearing loss and audiology over night! I was still fighting a lot of guilt, a lot of what ifs and struggled to see her father forgiving me. I sensed his sheer devastation and heart break just by the look in his eyes. The amount of times I apologised for the difficulty our daughter faced, and the amount of times he told me it wasn't my fault. I didn't take any comfort in his kind words. How could I? Our precious tiny girl faced a life of unknown to us, silence, dark and gloomy. The way I can describe, in my own words since losing my hearing is, can you describe a storm but in sheer silence. What do you picture, What can you see? - The world In front of you begins to turn dark - The hairs on your body start to stand on edge, it feels the cold and soon you'll start to shiver and feel wet from the downpour. - Clouds shadowing any life and happiness on the ground - You can no longer hear the deep groan of thunder, so everything stands still or there's a strong sense of anger from the storm of nature, where its winds are picking up and throwing anything in its way. Then you see the flashes of anger and almost frightening from lightening. This almost resembles my feelings to the unknown explanation of why I lost my hearing in my early teens. We was silent on our journey to the hospital. I'm not sure if we was anticipating the results, convincing ourselves it wouldn't be so bad, after all prior to this appointment her father was positive she could hear and she was interacting. I didn't hold or see the same hope he did. We was called into a room, and told to settle Alivia and rock her into a sleep, which i did. She had some sticky product applied on her forehead and behind her ears. Which was then followed by a pad and clips with wires which then attached to the test itself. The room is silent and the audiologist starts her investigation. Myself and Dean kept giving each other reassuring glances as I held my sleeping baby, I kept watching anxiously as the audiologist clicked her mouse and I immediately diverted my attention to Alivia's face, searching for a response to settle my nerves. Clicks or tones of varying intensities are presented via probes placed in the ear canal. Electrodes are attached to the mastoids, which is what the sticky pads and wires are used for. The sound in the ear canal passes to the cochlear which converts the sound waves into a nerve action potential which passes along the auditory nerve. Then the signal travels to the brainstem and on to the cortex where it is processed by the brain. This wave of activity is collected by the electrodes, amplified, and passed to a machine for processing. Presenting progressively quieter sounds enables a response threshold to be obtained. The test must have lasted for around a hour and half, until Alivia-Ellen started to become restless and unable to settle again. But I must admit I was glad for the audiologist to call it a day, she received half of the information she needed to give us a form of result, my body was aching from her c-section delivery just a week ago and having to hold her so still to not interfere with the test was a killer! But at the same time I didn't want anyone else to hold her, not even her own dad. Which could have been seen as selfish. I felt this was all my wrong doing, therefore I needed to protect her and show her that mummy was with her every step of the way. The audiologist confirmed what I already knew deep down, just unwilling to admit. Her left ear wasn't giving a good response to the test compared to her right ear. They both also gave inconclusive results among the test. But what she could collect, confirmed Alivia most definitely had mixed Sensorineural hearing loss and she was marked at moderate to severe. We was told in great detail what the next steps was, ensured we fully understood her type of loss and we was referred to a consultant also. She left the room to give us some time to allow it all to sink in, there was a lot to absorb and understand. Even with hearing loss myself, this was an entirely different journey and experience. Her father turned to me, his face looked like it was struggling to be held up. Threatening itself not to break its strong structure. His smile was weak and heartbreaking, eyes filled with 100 emotions threatening to flood and pour down his face. My stomach knotted and I tried to form a warming smile while reaching for his hand, as if to say everything will be fine. His strength defeated, he broke down in tears, "my poor baby girl". And took her from my arms and held her tightly. As if he was attempting to fix the pieces back together again. But unfortunately nothing was broken this time, nothing can be changed or fixed. This was a life completely different to what he would ever expect. We left that room, full of emotion. For what ever reason, I couldn't cry. I couldn't feel a thing. Maybe numb from emotions, or trying to remain strong for Dean and Alivia-Ellen or show him I was capable of dealing with it and what was to come. We had an amazing response from our families, each individual was reassuring to us. And their kind words couldn't have been more comforting. We didn't really know if we wanted to break the news to the world just yet, but I thought it would help us deal with the news and process it quicker if we confronted it. Which we did so, again on social media we got a lovely warming response. She was fitted with her hearing aids at 3 months old. But showed very little, if not hardly any response at all. Which was absolutely devastating as we saw so many clips on YouTube with babies smiling straight away after hearing it's mothers voice for the first time. But we tried hard not to let this be disappointing to us. She had this form of testing every month until she was 8 months old she then moved onto what is called a distraction test. Know as a VRA. This is a technique that can be used to determine frequency and ear specific hearing thresholds. The child is seated between two visual reinforcing reward boxes with a loud speaker on top of each one. To condition the child a sound is played from one of the boxes on the left or right, as the child turns to the sound they are presented with a visual reward in the form of an illuminated puppet in the box. After several times your baby will now be magically trained to turn to one of the boxes when just a sound is played. Although Alivia did cheat a few times and would turn her head just to see if she could see the bunny or a bus light up. A series of tones are then played at reducing intensity to obtain a minimal response level. After the child turns to a sound they are visually rewarded with one of the puppets. In order to obtain ear specific hearing thresholds the child may wear headphones or have small insert phones placed in the ear canals to generate the stimulating sounds. At 10 months old, was when they finally received a full investigation result. Alivia-Ellen displayed very little response, and what we thought was progression wasn't quite so. She was then finally diagnosed with profound deafness in her left ear and severe/profound deafness in her right ear. My heart sank. And I could almost hear the crack of my mothers heart who was sitting behind me. Alivia was then given the strongest prescription of hearing aids. But again the possibility that she would benefit from them or not wasn't certain... We are still currently at this stage and there still isn't a clear satisfying response while wearing her hearing aids. Sometimes she may turn, others she's blank. She's due a review and more tests in August. Which I will try to document so all of those who don't know what to expect or would love to know what happens, can witness this. We have discovered that having a baby who is deaf will take more on your part as a parent. More time, more patience, and more work compared to the parenting we provide to our oldest 'hearing son'. It will be different, but Different isn't bad, it's just different! Remember that every child is unique and has a variety of needs. Even our son has needs that need to be kept and maintained. The demands of extra time could just as easily come from a child with a learning disability, or an extremely bright child that needs consistent stimulation. It doesn't in any way change or diminsh all of the wonderful experiences of being a parent. I think the experience of having a hearing and non hearing child makes you stronger and change as a person due to the challenge of parenting. Your walls become unbreakable, yet you also appreciate and soften, you become knowledgable in your child's condition, more than most professionals and form patience you never deemed possible. Your baby is the same beautiful baby, it was before you found out that they have hearing loss. The only difference is that you may have to learn to communicate with her a little differently, than you imagined. Let this journey help set the foundation for your attitudes and opinions about what your child can be capable of, don't feel your expectations for them have to different or lower as your hearing child. We have no reason to ever expect less of Alivia-Ellen or assume that she would or could achieve any less than our son.

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I had one of those ‘parenting’ days yesterday evening, when you had no idea what to do to comfort a screaming possessed toddler, that utterly refused to go bed for two hours.

You can almost feel the frustration boil from your toes, working its way up into your mouth, which is when you release a little scream from deep inside.

'JUST GO TO SLEEP CHILD’.

My sweet blonde, little boy who I produced, Who I birthed and guided had turned into a solid monster right before my eyes… Milk? Cover? Teddy? Dummy? Curtains open? Curtains closed? Fan on? Fan off? Fan on again?! Tummy ache? Too hot? Cover off? More milk? Another dummy search. The list went on.

Running up and down the stairs every 15 minutes while he screamed the place down like a evil masked peppa pig was prodding him, trying to comfort and rock his sister to sleep, only for her to be disturbed when she was nearly dozed off, to be plonked on the sofa again and watch her mum dash upstairs for the 20th time. Being 34 weeks pregnant and a nice huge bump to prove it, not that the sweat droplets on my forehead was a big give away either…I must have lost the entire day of calories I consumed, which was mostly gluten free cakes, chocolate and a sausage bap and the discarded bottle of my ultimate craving DR PEPPER that I had to hide in the recycle bin, cutting sugar down and all that jazz. 😂

I found myself googling, 'my child isn’t sleeping’, 'why isn’t my child wanting to go to bed’, 'can bedtimes increase anxiety in toddlers’ or 'what the fluff am I doing wrong as a mother!!’.

It is extremely hard to be a 'good parent’ or an 'ideal parent’ when you’re anxious, stressed, fatigued or depressed. Nobody is a fantastic parent no matter how much they portray themselves at the school gates, social media ect… So here I am, writing another blog entry to vent my frustrations and escape my chaotic evening I just enjoyed by myself, restore what’s left of my perspective. Before you can help your child, you have to help yourself, most mothers enjoy a chilled wine after bedtime, others soak in a bath tub full of luxury bath bombs and salts, which I find stick to your butt and quite uncomfy.

So, where am I going with this blog entry? I have no idea… But what I have realised is modern day parents are so consumed into ensuring their children are safe, happy and got everything their beedy little eyes set on. What about us? The solo parents, co parents or coupled parents. What can we do to ensure were recovering. Because I know at the weekend after growing a tiny human inside, working, trying to be this amazing mother who washes, tidies and cooks hot meals from scratch, I’m far to exhausted to even focus on me by the time the children have settled to bed. I quite literally follow the same routine every night…

Bra - off Hair - up Bump - out Spread across the sofa with a tub of ice cream in my big pants, try and watch television, and off to bed at 10pm.

Sorry to all the partners and husbands out there, were too busy to focus on you and your needs too. We don’t want to be touched, hugged or kissed or snuggled up. Like seriously that’s how we ended up with a monster and diva baby in the first place. STAY CLEAR. VERY CLEAR.

Our personal space is invaded all fricking day long. Being strangled to death by little Livy while she head butts you to kiss her forehead and Luka catapulting himself off the sofa for you to catch if you miss that’s an added bruise to your overly bruised body as it is. Those tiny toes climbing, poking and prodding you or pussy footing your thigh while they watch Mr tumble, in comfort. Or out of sheer annoyance, I’m still trying to work that one out…🤔

Anyway, as the two hours drew to an end, and possibly resulting into a proud toddler owner of a very sore throat. My hair starting to stand up on its own due to sheer frustration and keeping my wits together and stop myself going insane.

My two children laid there fast asleep, side by side. You could hear their gentle and calm breathing, content and safe in their home. Knowing they’re perfectly loved, cared and adored even in their weakest and testing times. We’re not bad parents for suffering a minor 'parenting day’, nor are they bad kids for having a bad day.

Some times, mums and dads or anyone responsible for children. Times are hard, testing, panicking, scary and at times we really do question if we was ever ready for the journey and life as a parent. But those small moments of content peace, is as rewarding as a big box of chocolate, cookie dough ice cream and a bunch of Lillies brought to you by Ed sheeran serenading you with his delicate voice.

We got this guys, we’re doing a damn good job. ✌🏼️

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Some wonderful things to expect soon.

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We have all said it, we are all guilty of the same thing, we have all given our bodies a evil disapproving glance, we have grabbed the flesh that’s stretched to accommodate our growing baby, we have sobbed and wished our bodies back, we have all worked out in our heads from top too toe what we could alter, to what we feel is to ‘better ourselves’.

Believe me, I’m currently carrying my third child. And I realised today how selfish and unkind I am to myself. I have pretty much been pregnant continuously since 2014! And I found myself looking in the mirror in complete disgust.

I am coated in stretch marks from boob to calves. Like a natural stripe swimsuit. Just one that isn’t considered 'sexy, flattering or fashionable’, boob one size bigger than the other again coated in stripes. My stomach is the size of a whale to the point I’m being asked daily am I really going to last another 5 weeks? Or 'Jesus, you are huge’. Why do people think this is a compliment to a pregnant woman? We feel huge, so the constant reminder from a cashier at the shops or a stranger in the que isn’t needed. My thighs resemble the worst road in Britain with the most pot holes you could imagine. And don’t get me started on what use to be my pride and joy, a plump pert bottom! Which is now more like a disappointing squashed, flat doughnut at the back of the packet. My hair is greasy 24/7 even straight after a wash. And my skin is dryer than a desert.

But who on earth am I to be so negative about myself, We never hear ourselves check off the positives that our bodies have done, we never cherish or celebrate that our body has safely and successfully gave life to our children.

Our boobs maybe one size bigger than the other, or sit a little different than before but we fed our babies, gave them all the nourishment they needed to survive. Our skin is coated in stretch marks which we never had before, and always dreaded getting. But our body grew in sync with our babies, allowing them space to develop, our bodies catered their growing needs. And every kick we felt, May that be a reminder of how strong our babies are from the power of our body providing that. Our organs are squished, our muscles are separated and we have our own special individual pattern on our body. We gave life, we provide food and comfort to the tiny humans we produced.

Try and fall in love with your body again, it isn’t the body we are use to. But it’s the new you, who’s pieces have been put back together perfect but differently. We are now proud owners of a body who produced and successfully gave life.

Try and beat that! ✌🏼️❤️

[mothering-silence]

A motherly rant, to the mummy police 🚨

My attention keeps being drawn to certain comments or status’ being made on how overly critical mothers make other mummy’s feel.

It genuinely makes me sad to see some comments from mum’s that they are “super mums” because they have more than 3 children and look after them all by themselves… never let anyone do anything for them… because it’s their sole responsibility and if they “couldn’t cope” they “shouldn’t have had kids in the first place”. What a load of crap.

As a mother stands, we are all ‘supermums’, it’s the hardest yet most rewarding job anyone could ever try and accommodate to. Some days we all struggle, we want to cry and shut ourselves in a kitchen cupboard. Others we are beaming with pride and love. Others we are so mentally exhausted and question are we even worthy of motherhood.

Also to all those mums, who are battling PND you girls are my heroes. I suffered badly with my first born and how the hell I fought my demons inside my head and still managed to produce and bring up a happy chap is beyond me.

We put our demeaning voices to the back of our heads, we fight all those heavy chains that make us never want to leave bed, never mind trying to entertain, successfully bring up a demanding newborn. Planting our fears and doubts into a pot, in hope that tomorrow it doesn’t grow into something 10x as worse. But flourish into positivity. The black cloud that sucks up what should be the most happy moments of our life’s, is ignored. We pop our raincoats and wellies on ready to walk another day through the storm.

Please ladies, don’t knock a mother down because she’s asking for help with just the one child, she isn’t bringing up her children the way you deem right. Or she’s bottle or breast feeding, LED weening or mushing their babies food. Dressing them in organic cotton or not. You could be successfully fuelling the doubt that’s been planted into a mind.

We should not think any more or any less of you if you ask for help. I will have 3 children under 3 and I am glad to have the offer of help from family and friends… because it means I have people around me who care about us. I have a home that looks like it’s near survived WW3, my clothes are covered in breakfast, lunch or paint. And my hair isn’t brushed. And I can’t quite remember if I put deodorant on this morning or sugar in my coffee. 😂

But I know my Children are content, happy, secure and well loved.

[mothering-silence]

Yesterday was the start of a very long, challenging process of investigations for the 100k genome project that Alivia and myself and going through.

[mothering-silence]

It's Friday!!! Time for a fun filled family weekend.

[mothering-silence]

Since my first born, i think I had felt apprehensive throughout the pregnancy with Livy that I wouldn't feel an emotional attachment straight away, I was petrified the black cloud that shaded my first time as a mother was lingering, ready to pour over what should be new found happiness and content. Soon as Alivia was placed on my chest after what seemed a life time waiting, due to being stitched up from the c-section. I gasped and sunk in all her little features, her tiny perfect nose, small body which seemed weightless compared to Luka-James, my first child. Her long fingers with perfect shaped nail beds. She smelt beautiful like all newborns do. Feeling her on my skin made my body relax, we'd done it. Produced a beautiful, healthy small human. Every ounce of me filled overjoyed, with love. For the first day and night we spent together, I'm sure many other mums will agree it goes so quickly. Your shattered, in pain, zero sleep and constantly feeding. But some how your body is just programmed to run on love. It was day 2 when I had a pang of anxiety. My mother dropped a can of coke onto the table which was next to the hospital cot. And Alivia didn't startle, turn or cry. Completely oblivious. I put it down to being 3 weeks early perhaps their reflexes aren't as strong. When my first born was a few hours old, everytime someone opened the steel bins and left it to shut itself, he jumped. It was the next day the audiologist came round to do the newborn screening, she hooked my tiny little girl up to the device and reassured me everything should be fine, she failed one ear - but I was told it could be due to the back ground noise from other new parents gushing about their new babies. She asked them to be quiet and we resumed the test. She failed again, while doing the tests she was fast asleep completely unaware. The audiologist said she would come back in a few hours and retest Alivia once the cubicle across had settled down and a bit quieter... Two hours pasted, I was beginning to feel riddled with guilt. I texted my mother asking her to get to the ward sharpish. I needed her there beside me to reassure me what ever the result would be fine, I could manage like she had, it didn't change my thinking of this newborn baby only just over 24 hours old had a life of silence waiting for her. My heart broke. My eyes stung like they was being tickled with stinging nettles. My throat formed a lump threatening to strangle me. It was my fault.. She failed two more screenings. Then she went onto another test, which went through any fluid or congestion in her ears, as she was a csection baby and early this was a possibility... Her tiny head was paired with two huge blue earmuffs, again she didn't wince or startle. Blissfully unaware. Failed - refer to audiology. The audiologist apologised and said she will grab her diary to fit us in with an appointment the following Tuesday. (It was a Thursday). And that was that. I waited until she left my cubicle, I was left with my mother standing beside me who's face had turned red and eyes beginning to flood. I knew she was holding it in. Trying to be strong for me. Bless her, she's not one for dealing with emotions. I was given no leaflets, nobody to talk to after, nothing reassuring to read or success stories from the main investigation. Absolutely nothing - I was left bare with the unknown, just emotions and dreaded guilt... Finding out that your precious baby, that you've spent 9 months lovingly growing and vowing to protect in your body, is some what not 'perfect' by the standard you are accustomed to is hard, you experience a range of emotions within seconds which isn't ideal on top of your adjusting body, hormones, pain from surgery and tiredness from spending the first 3 days together with your newborn. You're hit with a pang of guilt, sadness and overwhelming feeling of protection. You blame yourself instantly and worry If your partner secretly does too. After all it was me she inherited her deafness from, I have made her life a challenge. I still live with that tiny guilt now, which prickles my eyes with tears when I think about it. I thought to myself, was it something I done or could have done different while she was growing inside me, did I do something wrong? Should I have lifted that box? Eaten that thing I possibly shouldn't have? Should I have joined yoga or take all these fancy supplements? When in reality the life you spent your first few weeks on leave, dazing about what life she will have, Job she will do, what will her personality be like... Isn't the life you originally planned, her path has taken a little different turn to what you originally dazed about. After we was told Livy was needing to be transferred to audiology, with failing her screenings and needed a in depth investigation into her hearing loss. There was a 4 day wait until her first appointment, instead of enjoying the first week of her life I must have spent my days on google searching for things I could do, reading forums if the baby's hearing came back and everything would be ok at the first appointment. I drove myself crazy. I didn't want my beautiful little girl to face such adversity at such a young age. I truly believe there is a grieving process when we are presented with what we perceive as 'negative' news about your precious little baby. With any challenge presented, it takes time to digest what you're presented with and come to terms with the reality. However time is something that cannot be spent mourning on your own feelings, within 6 weeks Alivia would be fitted with her hearing aids. It went so quickly, we had no chance to digest what was happening, what would happen and how we would bring up a baby, a child, to guide her into a strong independent woman. There is no space for slip ups. With any aid your child is fitted with, unfortunately the parenting is not handed with a training manual. You're on your own... Or so we felt. Having sensory hearing loss myself, although not as severe as Alivia's is, I want to express that deafness is not harmful, it doesn't impose life threatening challenges and I cannot express it is nothing to be ashamed off! I spent years trying to hide my ears spending a fortune on hair extensions to hide from potential new friends or boyfriends. I didn't want to be seen as weird, disabled or different. I wanted to be accepted, liked and loved. Just like every other young teenage girl, I wanted to experience what they was. I so wish I didn't waste my teenage years pretending to be something I wasn't. I wish I had the strong attitude of, this is me. Take me as I am, or miss out on great loyalty. Your baby is perfect, created perfectly and has a life perfectly planned. Now, as a parent it is upto me to ensure she feels perfect. Perfectly normal, perfectly accepted and perfect the way she is. Don't hold back, be proud of them. In my next entry I will go into detail about her appointments at audiology. There are some lows and highs at each one, But we take each one as it comes. Also the challenges we face as she's growing up.