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To the Motherless Queens this Mothers Day

"Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall, all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn't put Humpty together again". My first Mothers Day with my little boy in my arms. My first Mothers Day in years that I am feeling that sense of broken where no matter what efforts or bandages. Nothing will fill that special place of my Mother on this day. How I long for her to be here to celebrate her and her first year as a grandmother. If you have lost your Mother at a young age before certain milestones you will know all too well the pain of facing those milestones without your Mum by your side. In spirit always but physically not there. My 21st was the first one. When I wish she was there to tell embarrassing stories and great memories, however neither of my parents were there for that moment. How lucky I was though for the amount of love and loving people around me. My next milestone was being pregnant, a time where I wanted to pick up the phone and list off all my pregnancy dramas and discomforts and learn from my Mama herself about her pregnancies with us 3 babies of hers. Giving birth, I so badly wanted my Mummy there for that moment when I became a Mother and her a Grandmother. For years I knew these moments including my future one day milestone of my wedding my Mother won't be there to hold my hand, to wipe away the tears, calm the nerves, hold me, encourage me, guide me. The pain of knowing that though doesn't make it any easier. No matter what age you are our Mums mean something very special to each and everyone of us. When they are no longer there in person a piece of you is forever broken. There are an array of empowering amazing women in my life whom have played motherly roles throughout my years without my Mum. This has encouraged and guided me when her physical presence couldn't do so. This is my first year not only as a Mother but estranged from my Dad & Stepmum. It used to be easy to say thank you to my Stepmum for her role in my life. I can't see that being easy now. It's a new wave of grief, however it's also a time for us Motherless Queens to band together. A day to reflect on the beautiful memories made with our Mums, the silly times, the wild times, adventures and oh let's not forget those times you tested her patience 40202848 times over. There was a dark time for awhile where I never thought I'd be a Mother that Mother's Day to me would just be remembering my Mum and acknowledging my Nanna. Through having my own child my admiration for Mothers all walks of life has just exploded ten fold! I do the best I can with the situations and events life throws at us. I'm not a role model Mum by any means. My nappy bag has now dwindled down to the bare essentials for Ollie often taking a bottle forgetting solids or toys. Somedays his screaming and crying is too much that I have to put him down in the cot and walk outside just to breathe for a moment. "Do as I say not as I do" I know will be a well used line in our household as I still swear like a sailor but dress like a lady. My sons a rough and tumble kind of kid that licks the floor and his large head encourages him to topple over and whinge. I'm a care free Mum to a certain degree. I always ensure he is safe and fed loved and looked after, but yes he's eaten pizza at the ripe young age of 7 months, yes he's lived in just nappy no clothes all day on the hot days at home. With my impending period loitering on this day waiting for its shitty grand arrival the emotions are rife. Missing my Mum, loving my son, not wanting to deal with my sons whinging self, wanting 28 Big Macs but then a green smoothie too. It's a wild ride being a parent I think if as women we knew what lay ahead we probably wouldn't do this, but when you see your small human that you built that needs you that loves you unconditionally and you to them, that's what makes the crying, broken sleep, teething and more worth it. If I could pick up the phone and call you today Mum I wouldn't call to cry, I'd call to tell you your Grandson just smacked himself in the face with the remote and looked at me like it was my fault, how I'm being used as a human jungle gym and my uterus is not impressed. How he has flicks of red in his hair like you. He's cheeky and going to cause me grief with his full on self and how at 7 months he already has 2 weet-bix for breakfast and toast! But how you would just adore him and him you. I'd tell you how amazing and brave you were to live with such a difficult crippling mental illness and raise 3 children in a time where mental health was still a taboo topic. Thank you for bringing me into this world. Even though we went through hell at times that left scars and so many unanswered questions thank you for helping me to see differently. This Mothers Day I stand by my sister & Queens as we face today without our Mothers hugs and kisses, without them answering when we call. Always there in spirit and within you my Queens. In memory of all those amazing Mothers of ours. In celebration of Mothers, stepmothers, foster Mums, adoption Mums, godmothers, we celebrate you we cherish you for the incredible women you are. To our earthside and spirit side Mothers happy Mothers Day Xoxo

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Fractures of my broken mind

To this day I truly believe the month I spent in the Mother Baby Psychiatric Unit in Melbourne was the first time I have been truly open and honest with myself. As rewarding as this was. Things don't change overnight. I was discharged on December 9th 2016. That's 4 months of living with my new sense of self. 4 months of stripping everything back and baring the naked truth. 4 months of battling with what I know and don't know and have yet to understand. It's been a roller coaster of anxiety, crazy highs and massive lows. A battle with the bottle, my past boozy habits and Valium sanctuary taking a firm hold of me. Being frustrated that I'm not "better yet". I keep wanting this overnight fix. But every morning I wake up it hasn't happened. We talk about trauma and something traumatic. When I hear these words I think of a car accident causing trauma to the head or a traumatic event witnessing a terrorist attack or murder. I don't bring it home to me personally on a lifestyle of living. To be told you have had a traumatic childhood and upbringing just sounds odd to me when I don't use that word in context to a family environment. It also panics me because if I don't get well if I don't take a firm hold of the reigns in my life, will that mean I'm subjecting my son to a traumatic upbringing? Am I already doing that when I can't cope and put him in his cot to go close the door and cry for five minutes in the bathroom on my own whilst he screams out in his cot. Am I already being a bad mother? Am I already setting the stones to a shit upbringing? Why is my head so cloudy? Why do I just not want to hold my son somedays? Like he's a stranger to me? Yet when he's out of my care for more than an hour I'm lost and I need my little boy back in my arms. I suppose a lot of this is just part of being a first timer at this Mum business. I think too what is everyone else's crazy and dramatic is my normal in my head. You see my mind isn't wired quite the same as most peoples. My mind overreacts in what's usually an easily resolved scenario. My mind talks to me and tells me everyone hates me. That I'm a burden, a failure, a misfit. That I don't "belong" that I don't know where home is meant to be? I see things very much for black and white. I often fail to see and correspond to criticism or people's alternative opinions to mine. I'm extremely passionate though. I take a lot to heart and hold intense values and morals over a lot of things in life. If I don't like you, I actually am terrible at not showing it and playing nice. I cut people off when their values and morals don't match mine. I used to change boyfriends like I changed my underwear I don't think I've ever had a consecutive relationship without a break up lasting any longer than 18 months. I jump into the next relationship as I can't bare to be alone. I have holes in my heart of emptiness that started when I was 4 according to psychologists. How I've tried to fill those holes has been an unhealthy cycle of, booze, boys, sex, drugs and raging metal covered in tears of frustration. It's seen me surviving life and never properly living it. It's seen me drop to all time lows just to keep the lifestyle I so badly wanted. Moving forward my anxiety is rife at this current stage. Borderline personality disorder has been made my diagnosis. There is no drug to "cure" this. Just therapy and hopefully by my mid 30s it will ease off with its intensity. When someone has been exposed to a traumatic upbringing, for example violence, sexual abuse, neglect, drugs alcohol etc. they do not learn the fundamentals of what a healthy relationship is and what love truly is. What is ok and what is not. We are seen to be erratic and attention seekers but are anything but that. I believe BPD to be a mental illness that people fear along with schizophrenia as we can be so unpredictable. I have the ability to be loving and kind and warm and the whole time despise myself. I also have the ability to be a cold hearted bitch who will do whatever it takes to seek justice. I'm a sunflower I blossom and shine so brightly in full bloom but I can also be this lonesome wee seed not knowing where to start out. I always thought I just had depression & anxiety but my moods did not actually match those of that description hence after 26 years I was told the words I didn't want to hear but words that I had suspected where what my diagnosis actually was and that was that "Hannah you have borderline personality disorder". I guess in a way I am like my Mums favourite song by the Verve "bitter sweet symphony". "I'm a million different people from one day to the next I can change I can I can change". I see how she related that to her own mental illness of schizophrenia and likewise I can relate it to the unpredictability and irrational behaviours that come with BPD. However I won't sit and allow myself to wallow in this or have this diagnosis define me. I've recognised things are getting worse lately and I've reached out and spoken up to furthermore gain help. I have a support worker who comes over for 3 hours each fortnight to help me out with Ollie and household things that somedays just seem to overwhelming for me to do. I also asked my psychologist to change my sessions from fortnightly back to weekly whilst we go through a difficult chapter. Furthermore I've recognised there's only so much mindfullness and deep breathing I can do before I need medical intervention. Hence going back onto valium. Pharmaceutical drugs are not a bad thing and I wish we would stop labelling them as being so. I honestly don't know at times if I would cope being off them and have been strongly advised not to come off my anti depressants. So there you have it there's my crazy. I know I'm the crazy friend. The colourfully wild, unpredictable one. The one you all love one minute then go what the fuck Hannah the next. But that's just me. For now anyway, for now whilst I travel down this what is a very new and untraveled road of healing, educating, and pushing through the factors in which I need to learn to strengthen myself. To heal old wounds and learn how to properly smooth over the new wounds and issues that I face. I've loved I've lost. I cannot tell you how many people I've lost. Usually just out of not knowing how to deal with a situation. However now if I cut people off it's because my over exposure and awakening of myself has also made me look deeply into the friendships and relationships I have and what purpose they serve and if they are healthy or not? I know a lot of this is quite repetitive, I've spoken before in my blogs about all these different feelings. But now I have not a label but a better understanding and insight into what I believe to be my fractured unique mind. A mind that is so powerful it can have the ability to overrule my heart and hurt, lash out and push away the ones I love the most. It's usually the ones closest to me that suffer. It's not their fault and nor is it entirely excusable on my behalf, but it is a part of this journey as I learn what in fact are the fundamentals of love, Life and caring. What it means to be loved. Until Ollie was born I feel I can honestly say I never truly loved anyone. I was selfish and protective of myself. I sought out to empower myself and if it meant it hurt people along the way then so be it, I took no responsibility. Now I've taken back responsibility. I've looked at times and situations in my life that were not ok, where I put not only myself but others at risk. Where I lied to protect my own image whilst crumbling others. To be very clear in saying that I've lied this does NOT mean I lied about Ollies paternity nor does it mean I lied about my sexual abuse when questioned over both issues of in fact I had lied. I can be a cunt but not a sociopathic cunt on that level. To say I'm a mess isn't true. I'm colourful, and loud I'm also painfully awkward and reserved on many levels. I'm grateful for as I've learnt whom my true friends and family are as I've gone through this journey. Having seen through my own bullshit I'm also beginning to see through other people's bullshit. I once read a saying and it's so accurate "don't play victim to the circumstances you created". I grew up with people who did this. I too for a long time did this. I now see through it. It's a scary thing to be honest. To admit to your own faults. It's a beautiful thing to have purpose in life and I feel now I have found my purpose. Nothing greatly spectacular I'm not going to be the next Florence Nightingale or Frida Kahlo, but I am going to be uniquely and amazingly me and a vessel of love to my son and as a partner, friend and family member and general citizen of society.

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And then at the end of the day it came apparent that you don't need to justify yourself in a world full of deception, false sense of security, and absurdity. You're sitting on the scale thinking you're Osama Bin Laden but really you're not. You look at yourself and you often hate the person staring back at you because life as you have ever known it has been about manipulation and lies. That's all you were taught. Aside all the good things you were taught you were also taught some very toxic and damaging things. You sought to heal pain in so many ways, sex, drugs, alcohol, toxic relationships. You walked a unique path. A rocky path, you paved away for relentless hours trying to make it smoother and better. However it would always crumble away like debris washing up on the shore. Your heart just broke. Then it broke 1000 times more and then you simply said. I cannot be broken anymore. I over share my life on social media. I have been ridiculed, threatened to stop it. Backed up against a wall and slammed for it. I won't stop. I won't stop because this is my journey. My world too not just yours. And if some poor being has to go through anything similar to what I've been through I want them to see stories like this and know. YOURE NOT ALONE, YOU ARE NOT THE DEVIL YOU ARE SIMPLY STARING INTO THE FIRES OF HELL BUT THIS TOO SHALL PASS. Anxiety is fucked. End of story really. The way in which it affects people from one person to another is also so uniquely different. Some can't breathe, get sweaty, hyperventilate, cry, burst in anger or frustration. Anxiety comes in all forms in all different strands of motion. The beginning of this is my self talk. My anxiety peaks when I'm a week out from my period. I will break down and be shaking going to put the groceries away because Ollies crying & it's too overwhelming this mess in front of me that needs fixing. Yes shopping becomes this huge mess and obstacle. Or anxiety about leaving the house. I can spend days at a time not going anywhere or too fearful to drive. Other times I'm like fuck anxiety I've got this so under control. Then something happens, someone says something or something goes wrong and I crumble. I play the situation or the words over and over in my head 1000000 times and still can't make sense of it and the pressure makes my head feel like it's going to burst. This I have learnt. Is normal. It's normal for people who battle with anxiety on the daily. It's also normal for people who don't have anxiety to have these moments too. Learning to understand acknowledge and work with not against my anxiety has been a huge ordeal. Originally I needed medication such as Valium & Seroquil to manage it. Then over time I weaned myself off the Valium. Came off the seroquil and took back some control over these panic attacks. In order for us to be fully functioning I'm a true believer in having your mental, emotional, physical and spiritual wellbeing aligned. When part of that is out of shape the rest struggles to stand strong and support you. Allowing yourself to feel not what others tell or imply you should feel or do but listening to your heart, your inner self and going ok you know what? "Not today Satan". It's so not as easy as writing it like that all sounds. It takes medication sometimes to help with the initial calming of the peak of anxiety. Always always get a second opinion don't settle for being told a dead end road or limited resourced help. There is help out there, there are mental health plans, counselling, meditative therapies, pharmaceutical meds, there's never nothing. Mental health is strongly limited in its funding and accessibility through public health in Queensland. It's one of those things government still doesn't see the need for putting more funding into. Even though male suicides are at an all time high. 21 fathers a week commit suicide due to not being able to gain legal access to see their children and have their rights taken away from them. Yet where do they get to turn to when funding is so low, call centres can't answer the phone. Psychiatric units are full and under staffed to help out. Reach out always, always reach out. You are not alone, you are not a sociopathic psycho. You are you and you are allowed to have moments of weakness of struggle and difficulty with progression. Just know that you can pick up the phone true friends and family are always there. One of the best volunteer lines that runs strongly is lifelines helpline. One conversation can sometimes be the turn around. The escape you need to see the clarity of the situation. Our situations too often influence our different levels of anxiety. I know as a new mother my anxiety hit the roof. Being responsible for keeping another little human alive who is 100% dependant on you 24/7 with no instruction manual just mostly singing looking after this, precious as the finest cut diamond, screeching and painful as nails down a blackboard & more emotionally overwhelming than any love story you've ever seen. Also study, uni, exams, the pressure, the expectations. Work, being overworked. Not listening to your inner self. It's ok to get caught up to lose your breath. Just know this is not where the journey ends. Anxiety can be crippling for some and when people say "what are you so worried about? What's wrong?!" It's almost like you want to throw a meringue pie in their face. (But then you'd waste a really good pie and be more sad) it's as though you just want to scream "if I knew then I wouldn't be feeling like this!". It's complex it's not black and white. Hell if it was black and white we would have far less anxious ridden humans trotting around this planet earth. Change your self talk. It takes time. My inner self talk still puts me down, still lives so clung onto the past or fearful of the unknown, the future. I'm beginning to just try be "present". Being present is also a hard job. It's easy to be feet on the ground but spirit and soul flying way above and not connected with your being. Stay present, stay grounded, look at your loves, your achievements in life to this point, whether it be children, career, wellbeing. Absorb that goodness. And breathe and let go of the toxicity and the negative. I'm not saying this is the be all and end all of brilliant helpful tips but one thing I do when everything becomes overwhelming. I go to my fridge to get a glass of cold water and I stand and read the note on my fridge that reads "5 things I am grateful for". I just take time to reflect on each of those things and breathe. It's something small, doesn't always work especially if I'm pissed off or having a hard time with Ollie. Seeing "being Ollies Mummy" is sometimes like "ugh someone just take him for a second before my head explodes in this kitchen!". However it's good it sends those positive words through my head amongst the negative and most times succeeds in a more positive outcome. Unless there's beer then there's even more of a calming outcome whilst reading the 5 things..... kidding kind of not kidding, depends what day and time it is. So love and live loudly! Breathe and know you are so loved and so supported. Take time to step back. Give that negative inner self talk the arse. Be proactive. Treat others how you would like to be treated. We only get one shot at this crazy thing called life! So let's make it uniquely amazing no matter what our dark pasts or rocky paths in our journeys to this point. Stay wild. Xx

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Recovery, remembering, staring into hell & preserving

December 9th 2016 we walked out of the doors of the Austin hospital Mother Baby Unit and straight to the airport Queensland bound. 10 week old bundled up in my arms, a heart full of anxiety, joy at the prospect of seeing my friends and family in Queensland after such a long time and such a endless battle with my mental health. I hand on heart had every intention of returning to Melbourne. However paternity testing outcome lead to a one way ticket. This is the second time in my life that my life has been subject to a one way ticket due to my actions. My first one way ticket was from New Zealand to Australia at 15 after being a delinquent youth. However that depends on who you talk to, psychologists & psychiatrists don't believe this is my burden but still it landed me in hot water. Now I'm just a troubled adult facing demons of the past. Standing my ground in the present and crying and fighting for the future. Today is a raw and real day. It's a day that sees me sit and reflect on the hurt, destruction that I brought upon Matt & his family. The loss of friendships, families as we stand before you today on February 9th 2017. I've lost friends, gained and bonded more closely than ever with some friends. Fought and not seen eye to eye with some family and friends. There's no fabricating this journey. It's been fucking unbelievably hard. Shockingly if you're a single mother seeking psychiatric help such as counselling and support worker help it can take you over a month to get that help here in QLD. So a long the way, theres been relapsing, there's been tears, there's been a hell I've stood in front of a pit of fire that I've smiled into and said "no satan not today you're not winning this round fucker". I'm lucky for the most part Ollie is a chilled wee babe now his reflux is more under control but there's days he just screams and wants to be a koala on his Mama and that's ok, but mentally faces challenges as a new mother too. I battle addiction on different levels. Alcohol is a big one I'm fighting to walk away from. Valium is another crutch I cave into. Eating, I never thought of my eating as a disorder but apparently it is and that's a whole other ball game that I'm not ready to face just yet. As right now I just want to stay sober and off Valium. I'm not going to lose my son like I was told on different occasions by non legal or psychiatric workers. Yesterday my psychologist reassured me that no one is going to take my son away from me because I'm on the right path, by being honest, seeking help and slowly but surely getting progressively better. I am standing up and making a change, I am fighting for a better future. It's not all fucking roses, it's nasty, it's angry, painful, it takes strength. My impulsive nature takes over at times. My whip of a tongue lands me in hot water on more occasions than probably need be. I have to run my household on a routine and to precision with cleanliness to keep me away from drinking or falling into a pit of self pity and depression. I will never be "cured". This madness and chaos will forever play some role in my life. But the addictions won't. Step by step road to recovery is long but we will get there. I'm a survivalist and I'm ready to stop just surviving and make a life for my son & I. He deserves the best, he didn't ask for this mess & chaos and I remind myself that everyday when I feel like I can't breathe or it's too hard. My grandfather on my fathers side battled with alcoholism, I believe when raised by an alcoholic it generally skips the next generation as it puts them off. So I grew up around parents, aunties and uncles that didn't drink. Or if they did it was responsibly. However having that addictive nature in your genetic make up makes it easy to fall into. I have days where I'm great I'm so wonderfully at peace and happy. Then there's days I'm numbed out. Partially anti depressant medication can do this to you especially if you're not eating properly. I've been told to "stop playing the victim", "why do you have to put your life out there on a social media platform for the world to see?". "Some of your blogs are from such a dark place why post that?". Because again I don't fabricate. I don't want your pity. I want to shed light on what life is like to live with mental illness, addiction and pursuing mental health services and self care to create a better future. I write these so that one day I look back and see my personal growth and strength. Even now I look back at some of my last blogs and think how far I've come. This is the insight the raw and realness of one mothers journey. I write to shed light and help others realise they're not crazy that when things are shit they can get better. That recovery is a process not an overnight wonder. That chapters aren't all the same length in life and this chapter in recovery is yet to close. Next week I will step back into bikram yoga, a promise I have made to myself as I wish to go and be present with myself and breathe. For now it's getting through today, tomorrow, this week and holding my head high. Because despite the doubt I know in my heart of hearts I'm doing damm fucking well. Here's to the sisterhood out there struggling you are not alone you are amazing your journey is unique and it's ok to take your time.

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Badass Mum who still sucks her thumb Hi my name is Hannah, I'm an outgoing, wildly spoken woman and mother to a charismatic 4 month old boy, oh and I still suck my thumb. Every year I'd always tell myself "this is it no more thumb sucking after this birthday". "I don't want to be 60 and still sucking my thumb". It's made out to be such a childish and embarrassing thing to do as an adult. Obviously I don't waltz around the shops sucking my thumb. It's usually now more unawarely when I'm asleep after a big day, emotional, scared, a way of calming myself. I'll never forget the look on the midwives face when she came to do checks merely hours after giving birth to Ollie and I was curled up exhausted, staring at him in his bassinet half asleep so in love so bloody terrified that I now was responsible for this tiny humans life. Classically I was sucking my thumb as my means to try deal with all this and the raging hormones. People always have and always will say "oh surely you can just stop doing it?". I recall going to great lengths of biting off the disgusting nail polish that Mum would put on my thumbs to deter me, to having false nails to also try stop me from doing so. Many means and many fails. We've all got little habits. Whether on a larger scale of thumb sucking. Or loving satin pillowcases in order to sleep. I've heard of adults having to hold and feel the corner of a pillow. Twiddling of hair etc. Our need for self soothing does not necessarily change dramatically for some as we go into adulthood. Most of us yes learn different ways and progress whilst some of us keep hold of our "childish bad habits". Are left feeling embarrassed and stupid for them. On my own personal level I have kind of gotten to the point where I'm like "you know if I suck my thumb every now and then to calm my farm so be it". I'm not hurting anyone? The roof of my mouth yes. My teeth somewhat as I've been told the way I suck my thumb I push up into the roof of my mouth opposed to pushing out my teeth. I've learnt I'm still a badass Mama bear, thumb sucking bad habit and all. Gradually since being a Mum I do it less and less. I now see Ollie trying to suck his thumb and I'm like "oh mate let's try not to". On the basis of I'm 26 and as much as I have come to terms with it there was still years of being so worried about people knowing, being bullied and teased for still doing it. Being repeatedly smacked by my mother for doing it. It may seem like a petty and weird thing to most. Or a really childish thing etc. however, again it's that sense of calm, safety, which some may get through mindfulness and meditation or just naturally unwind. Whereas others seek it out through thumb, finger sucking, hair twirling, satin pillow cases. Over the years I've cleaned many a mining mans room and have come across on more than a few occasions teddy bears in their bed that you can tell have been theirs since childhood. So what? Who are we to judge that sense of security? Here's to my fellow odd self soothers. May we be weird, gentle souls but badasses at the same time 🤘🏽 just a wee bit of food for thought. Love & light

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They call us nasty women. Why? Because we tell it like it is. It's 2017 and our pussies aren't for grabbing yet we're deemed whores if we sleep around. But we high five each other as men for "fucking that drunk slut" on the weekend. Women can't have one night stands without it being called a walk of shame. Yet when we are sexually assaulted we're told it's our own fault "she was asking for it". I'll never forget the words of my case police officer talking to me about pursuing my rape charges that "you need to remember most of this jury will be older men and you went there drunk, you'll have a weak case appealing to them". No means no. I am the proud mother of a gorgeous wee boy whom will one day grow into a man. He will be raised to respect gender, equality, human rights, multiculturalism, to be a law abiding citizen. My mother was a firm believer in women being an equal to men and I've never forgotten that. I'm a nasty women because when being told by a church that I was a harlot for having sex with another fellow church goer that it was my fault and not his. I'm nasty because at 16 I said fuck you, it takes two to tango, it was consensual, I did not force him to bike over to my house or take off his clothes and lay with me. But yet I am the harlot? A whore, slut, prostitute. But he is a man who did no wrong? Women aren't allowed to be free speaking sexual beings like men are. Why? Why not? I stand for equal pay, for harsher sentences on sexual assaults and sexual predators. It sickens me that marijuana is deemed more serious and prison worthy than having sex with a minor. I look at my little boy and I think how I'll never keep my mouth shut standing up for what I believe in and what our rights as women, as human beings is. We are told to cover up our nipples, to discreetly breastfeed. Yet shamed if we bottle feed formula, or breastfeed in public. Our nipples aren't sexual. They produce nourishment and give our wee babes the sustainability they need to grow and blossom. We still tell our boys to "stop acting like a girl" those are words my son will say that girls are strong, just like me they are just as much entitled as I am. We are slammed with the shamming of abortions and our rights to legally obtain being able to have one 97% of anti abortion campaigners are men and absolutely 110% of them will never be pregnant so how dare they tell us what to do with our bodies. You want to have sex with us but dont want us to have children? But yet don't stand by our rights to abortion. It's sad to see that my son is going to be raised in a world of Donald Trumps and Pauline Hansons. With small minded and racial whips as tongues. Leaders who don't really give a flying fuck and want us all to fear Muslims, but love all Christians. I'm a nasty women because I come from a long line of nasty women who lead tribes, fought for our rights, raised villages, raised broken homes and kept going, kept working. Despite lesser pay, despite being undermined. I'm a nasty women because, I won't stand for bullies of men or women. There are no words left that I can be called that will deter me. I do not manipulate, I do not seek to play the victim card, I'm not a slut, a dumb fuck head, an embarrassment. I stand tall and listen to the beat of my heart the blood of Rongomaiwahine that surges through me daily. I lead, not follow, break rules and stand roaring loudly for our rights. Humanity, equality, I stand for being half cast and raising a half cast son and our heritage. Don't let them tell you, that you can't. Because you damm well can do.

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Raising tiny humans... the juggle is real

It didn't occur to me how much of a juggling act having a small fully dependent child is on one until I had my Ollie almost 4 months ago. I've learnt that my exhaustion is exhausted. Above and beyond this tiny human of mine comes first and foremost every day and night. I've learnt you don't actually "let yourself go" once you've had a child you just literally think of things like having your hair washed and cut at the salon a logistical nightmare that could turn your trim into a 2017 lopsided questionable do, as you wrangle the baby and sitting still. (I haven't personally tried this one yet so my hair has dead split ends from the ice ages now but I did experience getting my eyebrows waxed a few times). One will quite often forget silly little things like the little human will be having a cat nap at 1pm and you suddenly realised you haven't even had breakfast, but there's also washing in the machine that needs hanging out. Like a challenge off those Saw movies "live or die the choice is yours" as you're eating soggy cold toast half hanging out your mouth and hanging up washing like it's an Olympic sport going as fast as you can. Hopefully this Olympic effort will see you be able to sterilise the baby bottles before one tiny gremlin awakens. 9pm is definitely becoming my new 12am. The witching hour is real, I recall experiencing similar with dementia patients around this 5pm-7pm time frame although it's called something much nicer that my tired melon forgets now. However during this time you will be screamed at for not holding or looking at your wee human. Bath time is hit and miss it's either amazing or "WHY AM I BEING CLEANED MOTHER?!" My little 4 month old gremlin will only get bigger, louder, more independent but at the same time that comes with a WHOLLLLEEEEEEEE new set of juggling. Whether you're a parent of 1 or 5 I salute you. I believe until you step into those shoes of being a parent especially the primary carer role you don't ever realise quite what you're in for. They are worth it and more! Sometimes I actually waste a few valuable spare moments as Ollie sleeps just to exhaustingly but loving unconditionally stare at him and know that I created that wee life from inside me and now here he is. Leaving the house, car rides, shopping centres, overnight trips, BBQ s is not as easy as it all sounds. It's exciting if you get to go to the supermarket on your own like actual badass Mama strutting around woolies in your head being like. "That's right people I am a mother to a small human and I am currently child free for the next 20min look at me rollll". To your child you are their world. Soaking that up before they turns into a threenager or actual full blown pubescent teen is sometimes not so easy. It's very easy for childless friends and family to assume it's not that hard having a wee human, or that not being able to do something because of your wee human is using them as an excuse. It's not it's hard. It's harder too when your world itself as a parent is still a colourful mess as you try piece bits together, pull yourself up, remember to take your medications, give self love and get some god dam sleep! Mothers or fathers whom are primary carers are worth their weight in gold. We are a 24/7 role, that's unpaid, has highlights and lowlights. Has tears from both sides the small human and yourself. I've had amazing support from friends and family and it truly is the little things that mean the most. Like when my bestie turned up with a belated birthday cake and sparklers, and she held Ollie whilst I did a few loads of washing and played with him and we all got in the pool and I got to have use of both arms in the water. Or my other lovely bestie who fed Ollie so I could just have a quick cold shower on a hot day. Yes we chose to have these children and must bare the consequences of change. But I've learnt immensely the change a child brings to your heart, soul, body, mind & lifestyle. It's something you'd never change but it's also not fair for others to tell you it's not that hard. Just like pain tolerance we all have a different level of pain tolerance just like as parents we all have a different level that we function and struggle on. So please be kind. Think how it would feel to have a mini hippo permanently attached to you roaring for no apparent reason sometimes. Wanting to be cuddled in 38c heat whilst you both just sit there drenched in sweat dying under the fan but being there for them because you love and care beyond this world for them. To my fellow mothers and fathers with 1 or 5 maybe even a whole tribe of children. You are doing a terrific job, incase someone hasn't told you lately you too are so loved, so appreciated, so important and you're own superhero. Keep up the juggle coz it's a struggle that's for real.

[thehairypickle-plusone-blog]

10 things I'd love Mamas to be to know

The postpartum wisdom. 2017 must be the year of Le Bebès as I know so many expectant Mama bears some even with twinnies! Now I'm only still fresh as this as I've produced and kept alive and healthy 1x tiny human who is growing undoubtedly like Jacks bloody beanstalk, for just over 3 1/2 months. However I know and am meeting so many first time expectant Mamas and to say it felt like yesterday Ollie was on the inside kicking around would be a lie because I literally love being able to lay on my belly again after 9 long months. And regain control of ones pelvic floor muscles. It's so hard to be able to "give advice" to new Mamas to be. As everyone's journey throughout their pregnancy is their own and unique and unlike anyone else's. so to judge others pain tolerance, weight gain/ loss, hormonal swings, mental health, choice of birthing is actually not up to any of us to pass judgement on and say this is how you should or shouldn't. Today I had the best chat to a complete stranger/ retail lady at my fave shop of all things divine smelling at the body shop. She commented on Ollie and his adorable little hat. She went on to tell me how she was expecting her first wee human in May. It was great I finally felt I was at this point of my postpartum journey where I could bring laughter and light to all the things that once made me sad and feel alone during my pregnancy. We spoke about birth plans and the importance of keeping an open mind in bringing your baby earth side safely. The fears and pressures surrounding breastfeeding. The highs and the lows. We both agreed on having produced 1x human was enough. I thoroughly agree I have come into this wild motherhood and created a mini me my job here is done. With my friends all having little people too we pretty much will have a Gang spreading from the Sunshine Coast to Brisbane without me needing to produce any further offspring. I believe if we knew how intense pregnancy and labour and a newborn all was we'd probably not have children.... or would out of sheer craziness. I guess I was thinking today what would be 10 top tips I could pass down to some of the first time Mamas out there after all I had so much love and support and great tips from friends and family, not exactly do's and dont's but just general hey it's ok try this out. 1. First trimester I recall my boobs feeling like heavy rocks of lava and taking off my bra was unbearable especially being big busted. Go out and grab a handful of cheap crop top bras go a few sizes up as everything is going to expand. They saved me from agony rolling over in bed in night in the first tri. 2. Eat a Big Mac and don't feel guilty, there's so many rules on what to and not to eat during pregnancy. My first trimester I had to force myself to eat my greens and salads without reaching for the coco pops day or night. I ate runny eggs Benedict in the ending of the 3rd trimester and Ollie seems aight. (Not that anyone should really take my nutritionist advice as I am far from an expert). But what I'm saying is don't feel you have to live off green smoothies and send yourself crazy because all you want is to demolish a block of chocolate. Chocolate releases endorphins, endorphins make people happy remember? And less likely to savage humans. 3. There ain't nothing wrong with a little over reppin' the preppin' when it comes to wipes, bath soaps, face washers, bibs, creams and butt wipes. You will use them... bibs unless you want to be continually napisaning out the milk stains I personally found the dark ones like my soul far more advantageous. Bulk buying things like baby laundry detergent (I use purity and earth choice as we cloth nappy too) and in Australia use the App "shopfully" it ranges from supermarket specials through to big w, Kmart, baby bunting and so on all at the click of your finger. So the conscience of being able to not get off your couch is perfect! Load up on things for you too, pads, toilet paper all the home shit so you don't need to be going to the supermarket all the time. 4. Your body will change in ways you never expected. I became violet from Willy Wonkers chocolate factory almost instantly overnight. I was a puffed up waddling blueberry. And it's not the same feeling as putting on a few KGs it's a cargo ship for a human and is exhausting and painful, so put your swollen feet up after each day. I used to lay on the bed or floor with my legs up against the wall just to run the circulation back down to my legs. All these changes won't kill you though. They'll feel at times like they are but again your body is beyond amazing. 5. Shoving evening primrose oil up your hoo-ha is a real thing not to bring on labour but soften the cervix and I totally believe in it as well as raspberry leaf tea tablets into the 37th week. My cervix was nice and soft when I presented for labour and once in active labour things moved relatively faster than I had imagined.... My haemorrhoids took the cake in pain. There's no real medical proof behind it but I feel I'd like to vouch for this alternative method. 6. There is no real point to a birth plan. Your baby will do what it wants so don't go in thinking you'll waltz in have a nice natural water birth with aromatic oils and Himalayan monk music humming in the background. You might need to get out of the water and be on a bed. You might need to have an emergency c-section or forcep delivery. That is ok! That is still birth that is not you failing or doing the wrong thing. The wrong thing is to fight off the midwives and doctors when they are concerned and intervention is needed. I had Ollie via big salad tongs forceps and I'm so grateful I went in open minded and kept a asking for the epidural haha! 7. Once earth side your baby will throw you a surge of hormones, you'll be so in love, in awe, in pain, hungry, exhausted, anxious, proud, terrified. That roller coaster is normal and seriously utilise the midwives help as much as possible whilst in hospital. I buzzed them every time I put Ollie on the boob to make sure I was getting my latch right. I buzzed them when the sheer pain of afterbirth meant I couldn't get up to get him out of his bassinet so I'd need a hand. Midwives to me are Angels and boob and vagina experts. 8. It's ok to cry and feel overwhelmed it's ok to feel like you don't have a clue what you're doing because seriously pretty sure most Mums have just winged it, I'm still winging it with Ollie and he's not got many real complaints other than how dare I shower whilst he snoozes because he will awaken and cry and let me know he's not impressed with such abandonment in his cot for 5 minutes. 9. Take time for you postpartum, if your partner, mother, sibling or close friend can mind your baby for a wee while, go throw on a face mask or go for a drive to get a coffee, seriously rebellious wild feeling about being child free in the car it's speakers full boar and bad ass mama all the way. 10. You've done an amazing job, birth & beyond truly changes you and you're a bloody legend for what you've done so don't ever forget that! But also know if you're not ok it's not weak it's empowering to ask for help. My ovaries still twist and turn in a painful manor when I see heavily pregnant women, newborns or entourages of families of 5 children navigating their way through the plaza with precise chaos. I just think ouch no thank you. I have my one little Gang member and when I look at Ollie now even through sheer exhaustion some days I just think. This all happened for a reason and the unconditional love and lengths you will go to for your wee one is indescribable. It's ok to not enjoy pregnancy, I did not feel glowing and blossoming I felt like a whale with my extra 25kg and pelvic instability. Now though, worth it and even more. So I hope some of these tips and words help reach some Mama bears out there. I sure as hell know I wish I spoke to more Mums with little ones when I was pregnant. Rise and roar you courageous ferociously brave Mamas be. Love from Ollie & I xx

[thehairypickle-plusone-blog]

What does Australia mean to you?

Queensland, oh how I love you and as we near Australia Day I sit and think of my past 11 years in this country and mainly in the sunshine state itself. I love how I make Ollie and I arrive half an hour early to appointments just so we can sit and bask in their air con. Our new car which I've named Susie runs a dream but she just doesn't have air con, it's literally been the most hilarious time, opening all windows 1 hour to departing the house time. Setting everything up in Susie babyship ready to go because we need wheels moving people wheels moving! The jealousy as Ollie gets all the good breeze situated in the back at the middle. BUT! Let me tell you that 1 week of cold snap in winter we do get in Queensland I am set with seat warmers! Boom! But it feels amazing to be able to get around and stick my hand out the sunroof feeling the sun tanning over my pasty Melbourne whiteness I had become accustomed to. I love the spontaneous trips to the beach and the planned ones too. There is nothing that beats the beauty of the Sunshine Coasts beaches I'm sorry but there's just not, not with the array of beautiful golden sand through to wild rocks and shells. As much as my bestie and I whom both do not reside in air conditioned homes complain about how the heat is killing our cold black souls I still love this place. I feel for every pregnant woman I see walking around in this heat and bless baby cheesus Ollie was an end of winter/spring Bebe in Melbourne where I got to feel cold when I was reppin' the baby whale mode. Australia 🇦🇺 not by choice became my home 11 years ago in April when I was 15 just over a year after Mum passed away and a rebel on the rampage. I arrived for a "holiday" where I stayed with my mums parents. And then was given the consequences of my rebellious actions to either stay in Australia and start life over again or come back to NZ but go into foster care. Since then I have built a life in this wild country. Would I class myself as an Aussie? Yes, I'm still a Kiwi but in my years over here I have become well accustomed to the Aussie way. Coming here as a teenager I've essentially grown up here and soon I'll have lived here for the equivalent time that I've lived in NZ. I love the mate ship and how friends become more than friends and you become these cousins and aunties and family away from family. I have a select few really close friends whom are like family to me and we always have each other's backs. I still have friends from when I first arrived here who I don't see all the time but when I do it's like nothing has changed and we pick up where we left off tears of laughter and crossing legs to not piss ones pants. I love that Australia for my Dad's mother Nanna June has given her so much more in the way of community care, activities and health care for the elderly. My Nanna has always been a social butterfly and I love that she gets to go on bus tours for cheap and down to beaches for lunches with the group, have a community bus pick her up to take her and others to the plaza to do her shopping. Have here medical care covered and mentally despite the heat I truly feel as though her being here has given her a whole new lease on life in the ways of coming over as an elderly person. I am amazed how going from one state to another this country is so incredibly diverse in its landscapes, culture and communities. There is still so much more for Ollie and I to see over here and I can't wait for the adventure, the camping trips, laying on the beach at night watching for shooting stars. Australia is home to me, Queensland is where my heart is. The ocean calls my name, the spiders still give me the shits at how aggressively big they can be. In over 10 years I've seen a handful of decent sized snakes in the wild. Been nearly taken out by a kangaroo or 5 whilst driving in the middle of nowhere. I think kanagaroos are glorified assholes. Going to the zoo it's like monopoly for me with them I'm more than happy to pass go and not collect $200 seeing those unpredictable wannabe wrestlers of an animal. I've loved having friends and family from NZ visit and show them all the beauty and diversity of this place. I love that it's sunbaking weather at 5pm as the sun goes down. And how the sunrises and sets out in the middle nowhere. Those sunrises and sunsets when I worked away in the mines were one of my most favourite things in keeping me balanced and grounding me. Australia has now also given me a new little life. I've worked hard over the years over here and seen some incredible things and places. I can't wait to show Ollie his fatherland as well as take him back to NZ to see the beauty in his motherland as a descendant of Ngati Rongomaiwahine. I'm embracing that Ollie will grow to know three cultures as he grows up, the true people of Australia being our indigenous culture, his Australian heritage and his Maori heritage and culture. My wee babe couldn't have been born in a more beautiful place where I hope he comes to learn to love the ocean just as much as I do. That he learns the different languages of love from culture to culture and his beautiful mixed ancestors of both Maori and Australian. I'm definitely a true blue in the way that I talk the jokes I make and undoubtedly wouldn't do well in Europe with my wild Aussie attitude but that's me. Embracing mixed culture is so important. There's still huge uproar over here about all us kiwis coming and bludging off the government, unless you arrived prior to feb 2001 we actually don't receive anything meaning us "bludgers" work for what we have. In this land there is so much opportunity. For career growth, self growth, travel growth, cultural growth and much more. I want to say thank you to my Aussie friends and family that I've made along the way here. Thank you for all your banter, love, laughter, support and overall genuine wonderful selves. So what does being in Australia mean to me? It means challenges good and bad, it means growth, love, laughter, adventure, it means I swear like a sailor would do anything for my mates and family. Means I know what it's like to bust a plugger and also be around some Of the most creative wonderful souls I've ever met. Thanks Australia for letting me call you home.

[thehairypickle-plusone-blog]

The good & bad of fear, the running & the rising

There are two meanings apparently to fear 1. Is to forget everything and run or 2. Face everything and rise. I've ran for years so many years, I'm told this is because that's what my mother used to do . But I've ran for so many reasons, I started emotionally running away when I was 12 and began self harming. Then I physically started running away from home soon after. I'd forget time and time again who I am and where I'm from and to stand up straight and bare the consequences. Family lives are private, it's not the norm to talk about what goes on behind closed doors or how we function or dysfunction as a family unit. I have been reminded continuously that the decisions I make for Ollie and I and my parenting are consequences I will have to live with for the rest of my life. I believe that also includes my choice to over expose our journey knowing full well he will be able to access this and his friends and family when he's older through social media. So do I dare speak up and speak out about the sexual abuse? The time I was so financially ruined I turned to stripping? The resentment the self loathing. Do I speak up and deal with the consequences of that I went over 48 hours without eating and relying on my medication to keep me stable whilst I try find support services away from my family and stress and plan over and over ways to provide for Ollie and I once my maternity leave ends in March. There are rules, there are games I don't often abide by the rules or play the game fairly, leaving me to be on the outside. I cry, I swear, I say fuck you and get back up and try again. I'm not a quitter even when all I want to do is curl up in a ball and have my hair stroked and told how everything will be ok. My upbringing on both sides of my family was a crazy mess in two very different ways. My life has been continually assessed by professional psychiatrists and counsellors as "traumatic and survival not living". Survival makes me think I'm this lioness out for the hunt somedays other days it feels like I'm this washed up bogan of a shambles who keeps her cereal and crisps in the same cupboard as her dresses and skirts. My fear of rising and doing my best to not emotionally damage Ollie is insane. Apparently though so long as you're bonding, caring and being proactive just 30% of the time your small human should pull through emotionally un fucked up. 👌🏼 I like to remind myself of that 30% when my child is screaming, he's sleeping but I'm not because I'm a paranoid anxious Mama bear. I'm really trying to focus on Ollie and absorb the preciousness of maternity leave to the point I've switched him to cloth nappies to help him on the hot days at home and learning his body clock and his cues and needs. Mornings for someone who is hands down NOT a morning person are my fave with Ollie we co-sleep in bed from around 5am after the 4:30am feed, and he just lays there all set up next to me snoozing ever so sweetly that my heart just bursts and in this fleeting moment I'm like please don't ever grow up, I wants another mini. Then my ovaries practically kick me painfully back to pregnancy and childbirth, those first weeks, Months, pain, tears, drama and I'm like no thank you one wee gang member is enough. So I face those feelings of fear of all my self doubt as a mother a semi functioning human and I rise. His sweet smile washes me with calm. Having fear and forgetting everything and running isn't often a bad thing though, I practice this daily like spontaneous late afternoon beach hangs some sunscreen no swimmers and running down to the ocean with my singlet only butt naked child into the ocean. Laughing away as we lap up the salty goodness of the ocean bent over with my gorgeous granny panties hanging out and running from and forgetting all the fear of judgement and just being in that moment, Running wild and free. That's the positive I find somedays in forgetting everything and running is that we just go off on these beautiful adventures. Im sure there's mental health critics reading this going fuck she's showing signs of manic depression right now or delusional behaviour. But I'm just being me. Clinical shit and meds aside, sometimes the forgetting brings peace. The running brings strength. I am not a manipulating human being nor am I as recently asked "a two faced cunt and that's how I've been living my whole life?" I am me, not soul searching, down to earth organic free range egg eating yogi, more like an assortment of jelly babies, that listens to slipknot whilst breathing and doing a mid morning yoga stretch. I buy homebrand food but love to go out for brekky on the weekends to whole foods cafes. I believe in Crystal and holistic healing but I also love my saving grace Valium. I use cloth nappies but I obsessively bleach my bathroom twice a week, dettol wipe down everything to hospital grade clean despite the environment. I'm not unbreakable, I'm emotional, scared, twisted and broken. Torn and confused. But every morning I flip the bird to Satan and say not today satan not today, and persevere in some weird and wonderfully OCD routined way. I pretty much practice insomnia like a yoga class as I toss and turn at night chanting to myself sleep Mama bear sleep. This journeys wild and I draw outside the lines. But I am so proud of me for being here, being present and not giving up. So when your day is shit just say fuck it only the good die young so I've got plenty of days to make up for this shitty one 😉 Laugh as loud and freely as you can wild child's.

[thehairypickle-plusone-blog]

Shopaholics that roar and more

Hi my names Hannah and I'm a shopaholic. So the beloved belongings arrived of Ollie & I from what was our home in Melbourne. If you looked at some of my boxes of nursery items you would think I was doomsday prepping having a baby. I literally don't have room in my studio to store the copious amounts of baby wipes, disposable Change mats, burp clothes and scented nappy bags. Let alone even think about having space for any of my own bits & pieces, that's all taken a swift hike to staying in storage. I'm not convinced that even if we were in a house and Ollie had his own nursery that I didn't go a bit OTT at the baby prepping. People always tell you how you'll need so many wipes..... I took that onboard a little too seriously hello 3 months worth of butt wipes. Baby powder..... I barely use the stuff got 2 giant ones and a travel one. Naturally moving day Ollie kindly took it upon himself to not sleep at all, all day! And his not sleeping my overwhelmed reaction at how the fuck is all this going to work what do I? How do I? But it's been a few days now and it feels a lot like a little home now. I'm grateful for all the help, the support from family & friends. Am beyond grateful for my new wheels! I'm such a hoarder / stocker-upperer that upon unpacking I've still got unopened cot sheets that haven't been used. Like I'm waiting for him to wear out the ones he has? I don't know. There's a small human suitcase all ready for his next size up of clothes I literally forgotten I'd stocked up on long before I even knew Ollies gender. I'm certain looking back that I thought I was going to give birth to a 6month old. I have to have things laid out a certain way, stored a certain way. Even with having a newborn I remember the counsellor telling me I needed to pull back, let go of the household chores and all the other bits and pieces, so what if the bed doesn't get made in the morning. That would literally make me worse. I think from working FIFO and living in such a small space for 2 weeks at a time it really taught me how to keep things clean and tidy and make a small space seem less daunting and more comforting and inviting. I like small spaces, simplicity, homely but clean cut organised. Don't get me wrong there's so many days having a small human where it'd be easier to break my routine of cleaning and let go of the obsessive nature of how things must look and be placed but even through sheer exhaustion I'm like no must do this this and this before we leave or before i go to bed. Time management is everything. Being a single mother to 1 child I feel like I'm slowly getting the hang of multi tasking time managing so everything gets done and organised before a screaming Ollie. Because fuck me it's hard being a 3 month old apparently. I'm so glad in a way that I'm this bull buying, bargain hunting Fien, as right now centrelink can't make up their mind if I'm entitled to single parent benefits or if I can go back to work whilst receiving my paid parental leave and get a childcare rebate. I don't want to be a stay at home Mum, I don't want to bludge off the government but they sure as hell make it one messy situation trying find the best solution. Like you can work for 10 hours a week but then we will cut your paid parental leave oh and you might not get childcare rebates. Then you can get single parent payments if you've been in Australia for 10 years (well it will be 11 in April) oh wait hang on we don't know if you can. So here I lay in my studio with my little sweaty human curled up next to me pulling at my skirt snuggled into me whilst eating his hand, applying online for every damm centrelink payment and looking for jobs. I don't know yet how we will do it but I'll make it work. I'd go to the ends of the earth for this squealing sweaty little human. It's amazing how loud you roar sometimes as a mother. Deactivating Facebook and taking sometime to check out and breathe has been mint. I've reorganised my priorities a bit better. Felt a little less shit about myself as a human. Sometimes in our lives there's a lot of noise, lately that's how I feel like the radio has been blaring at me so I'm finding different ways to try turn it down a few decibels. Whilst wrangling an unsettled growing probably about to start teething chunky monkey that ultimately is my light in the darkness but also my blob of insanity whom I still haven't found the refund ticket for because I swear he shows faulty signs that weren't in the brochure haha! But alas he's beginning to allow me to shave my legs in the shower or go take the rubbish downstairs without acting like the worlds ending. For the most part. Sometimes I wonder if Ollie was sent to me by means of testing me across many spectrums from spiritual to social and my love for nice cold beer. I may fuck up, and have outstanding mother of the year awards for some of my cock ups. But I'm determined, I know what it's like to be broken, to be hurt to inflict hurt, to start over and as a good friend once said to me never do things half arsed always all or nothing. Sometimes I need to put screaming Ollie down in the cot and walk away and breathe before trying again. Sometimes I need to overshare my journey with a bunch of strangers through my blogging and talking. This is how I live, love, cope, struggle and roar. If I can do this anyone else can too and I am right here to back them and roar with them in our achievements and fuck ups. Happy Monday from Ollie & I

[thehairypickle-plusone-blog]

New year, not a new me & relapsing

New year, not a new me. I didn't make really any New Years resolutions probably because I thought fuck it let's just get through today and shaving my legs. What did happen to start off Ollie and my new year was moving into our new wee pad on the 2nd. We are so fortunate for friends and caring people that we managed to score this beautiful place, separated from the house above the garage with salty sea breezes from the beach only a few streets away. Our belongings from Melbourne arrive either tomorrow or Friday (today being the 4th). And I'm actually beyond excited for Ollie to finally be back in his own cot, no porta cot, no hospital bassinet or cot but his own wee bed. I'm yet to figure out how everything will and most likely not fit in this little space. However that's what besties with garages are for right? 😉 And his change table hallelujah! I know so many Mums are like you don't need a change table, you'll change them anywhere but the change table half the time. But I'm a storage savvy OCD organised QUEEN and that change table holds pretty much everything Ollies noggin to teeny toes need. Plus it's much easier to clean up baby crap at waist height then hunched over. Asides all that excitement a lot has been going on since the Christmas/ New Years every help facility is closed for business period. I have been in touch with numerous services, from my doctor, child first VIC for a QLD referral. As my doctor stated QLD is apparently shit when it comes to PND mental health care especially on the Sunshine Coast. I like my doctor she's pretty rad and tells it like it is. I've finally managed to link into some services as I feel myself sliding backwards once again. It's like the past month being in QLD has been a total blurry mixture of emotions. I've gained and lost confidence in my parenting with Ollie. I've isolated myself from my family out of cowardliness and embarrassment as I've slipped so far backwards now that I've openly admitted today on the phone to family child connect who deal with act for kids in preventing child abuse and neglect and work on what services are best suited for your current status. That I have begun drinking again as well as taking my 3 Valium and Prozac a day just to try numb myself out and not feel. I'm well aware I have a history of alcohol abuse, and it's one of my biggest band aids. I don't drink to get all 50 shades of fucked up or want to go out and party or go to the pub. I avoid spirits and wine as I know how unpredictable I can be on them (other than blissful Canadian club cans). I just drink to calm the chaos and noise. I'm not sitting around at home in the day time drinking. But I'm taking a Valium and sitting back in my nightie having a few beers whilst Ollie sleeps. What I am afraid of is this becoming a habit an addiction, and it's pointless taking Prozac when alcohol is a depressant in itself. Not to mention the risk I put Ollie in being a solo Mumma doing this. I promised I wouldn't drink again when Ollie was born no matter what that I wouldn't go down that path. That I wouldn't be so selfish. But alas I've relapsed. Only I've relapsed and realised early on that this isn't ok. Not going to lie though after a shit day a beer and Valium go down a treat in taking the anxious, wound up, pissed off wreck out of me. I'll be having a social worker come out to see me in the coming week. I also have been referred to the adult acute mental health care team at the Nambour hospital. I want to prevent. I mean I can handle going out and having 1 drink at dinner with friends, but I can also sink 10 beers still function and fall asleep like a giant happy walrus. Pre Ollie I would virtually polish off a carton of beer on my binge nights. I'm scared I'll lose Ollie though if I go back down that path and I don't want to be that Mother, that one that's teachers call you in to speak to them saying how your child is saying Mummy has a bottle of Medicine every night and draws a bottle of sauv Blanc. I don't want the department of child services to remove Ollie from my care. So I'm going to get through this hurdle. I know a beer every now and then isn't the end of the world but my relationship with alcohol can be a wicked one at times. My child deserves better. I deserve to treat myself better. Eating once a day and drinking is not a way to self care. I don't want to undo all that awesome work that I had in the mother baby unit but, fuck seriously fuck things are tough. Tougher than I could've ever imagined. And my beer and Canadian club are sometimes just this sweet elixir of numbness. People can judge, feel anger, disappointment, frustration as I admit all this but again, my blog is an honest open book about my journey. And this right now is where I'm at. Making poor choices, loving my wee boy unconditionally but still having moments of wanting to just put him in his cot and walk away. I can't rely on the help to change me I have to be the one to want to change too, and I'm ready. Because the days will only get harder and I'll become more and more reliant on Valium and booze to get me through but it doesn't have to be that way. Prevention. I've slipped but as I currently soberly write this and straighten up my crown I will fight this. I will stop and breathe. I may not kiss goodbye to the Valium candy shop for awhile yet but the beers will need to be reigned in on. Sobriety was so good for me. Yet now I seem to forget that as I tackle at this shit called life. One day at a time. No big goals, just little steps, and a whole lot of love for my son and repairing that self care and straightening up the crown. Because this behaviour will only cause destruction beyond Ollie and I and burn bridges that don't need to be burnt. Breath and let go.

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Separation, paternity, single mother & anything but a fairytale

Anything but a fairytale please. So publicly it's become very clear on both sides the decision to end the relationship Matthew and I had for just under a year. The talk of separation arose during my time at the Mother Baby Unit. As well as it naturally being hard raising a newborn, there were pre existing relationship issues that we had and didn't face until it all blew up in our faces. On top of all this my turn around in sexual partners was quick before falling pregnant with Ollie. (Keep your legs closed Hannah, yeah I know thank you). However I so strongly believed Matthew was Ollies father and after all the initial shock I saw out the pregnancy. The paternity questionably lingered over the entire of our relationship. There was never trust, there was hope, denial, survival, loneliness and struggle but on the outside we were just ace. Internally I believe we both struggled more than we would've liked to admit to. In no way am I writing this to air our dirty laundry or put myself in a role of innocence and naivety. I quite simply and bluntly totally fucked up. Not on just one of those mediocre scales either like on one of those scales where it emotionally damages people and can potentially destroy people's lives for their entire lives. But I ask you this amongst all the noise and judgement of it all. What's better? Living a lie, wondering if in fact your partner really is your partners child as he changes and his features lessen to either but to someone previous. Or be out with it and have a paternity test done whilst your child is still young so he can know his biological father and have the right to the truth from a young age, whether that means it's destroys what life I myself have in order to better my child's? There's a million questions, and a furthermore million different opinions on the matter. But until you find yourself in such a situation I don't think it grants you the right to tell people how to think & feel. Either way there was going to be pain. I was beyond blessed when I met Matt & we dove wildly into this journey of a new romance and low and behold a wee babe on its way! I think we were slightly naive about how this would affect us in our relationship let alone raising a child together. All we knew we built on from the pregnancy. We loved and we loved so deeply because of the life growing inside of me. We were riddled with anxiety as we merged forces almost like strangers diving head first into a mind blowing future as 3... 4 including our beautiful cat / fur baby Ben. I have so much respect for Matt & his family, especially his Mum. Throughout the pregnancy despite our niggles Matt would only have to look at me and see me pull a face and know it was Big Macs for dinner with extra chicken & cheeseburger. Him and I weren't passionate lovers or partners. We were more like two souls dancing in a friendship bound by an expectant new life. Our bad days were bad, thing is through exhaustion, insecurities, resentment, distrust, anger & pain we made our life together miserable. We were as Matt once said "no longer about happiness but survival". The toll of being a father, provider, carer took its toll on Matt. The role of a father is not a light hearted one in any shape or form. But there's things that cross the line, there's boundaries and having PND & anxiety not only could I not cope with myself and Ollie but I also couldn't cope with the angry deteriorating mess our relationship had become. On the outside looking in we were blissful, happy & a new little family. Behind closed doors we were anything but. And as tempers soared on both sides again one has to themselves what is ok and normal and what is not? I lost myself being pregnant & moving to Melbourne. The confident, funny outgoing Hannah you all saw and once knew was replaced with this lifeless depressed soul. I was a housewife I cooked, cleaned, fresh sheets Friday with my obsessive nature with cleaning & hygiene routines. I lived for the supermarket catalogue coming out on a Tuesday for specials. I didn't go out for coffee with friends, didn't go lounge at my friends for half the day talking shit. I didn't have friends in Melbourne, I had one friend I could do that with but she worked a lot and lived an hour away. Bless her she would always try come out to see me as often as she could. But essentially I was alone. I had Matts family I had Matts friends but that isn't the same no matter how hard you try. I finally made friends in psychiatric care 6 weeks after Ollies birth. By then my outside world from the psychiatric care was becoming furthermore unstable and unknown. We'd trial sending me home for the day, then an overnight stay and it just fell to shit. We had become two people standing in front of each other totally alone. We spoke of separation, anger and fear was all we achieved when talking through it. I asked on 3 different occasions about putting the demons to rest and just doing a paternity test. Apparently I did not strongly demand this enough which leads us to our next fucked up chapter. I contacted my ex. This was by no means like pick up the phone oh hey how are you? Look I think my baby might be yours can you do a test? No. My ex has a criminal conviction against him for sending abusive drunken emails, messages & videos during my pregnancy as he refused to deal with our break up (I was his first girlfriend he's now 32) & he suspected Ollie could be his. He escalated to contacting Matt, tearing down people in my family in a drunken rage & slandering some of my closest friends. He recently went on to admit he was trying to destroy me as he best possibly could. Apologised none the less and told me he still loved me. Not the Mona Lisa smile painting that's for sure, more like after Van Gogh chopped his own ear off kinda style. I reported him for this to police in April. Deleted, blocked him, months later found 86 messages from him on an old Facebook account. Again drunken abusive rage. See we had a really good break up. And by that I mean that in total sarcasm. I punched him in the head drunkenly on NYE after he told me we'd have to walk 2 hours home after a drunken Mexican fiesta NYE party. We were toxic, we got together and hit it off well with our binge drinking and care free lifestyles. We met back in 2014, drunkenly kissed one night (yes legit only kissed) then he flew back to Newcastle NSW. I would continue to see him over the coming year as he visited but nothing happened until October 2015. We used to sit on the phone for up to 5 hours at a time talking shit, one of us always drinking whilst he still lived in Newcastle. We met when neither of us had money but we made it work. He came up from Newcastle with hardly any real work ahead of him and only weeks into the relationship I lost my job. Alcohol was dominant in our relationship. I wanted to sort my shit out I wanted to clean up my act so I left. Emotionally I left before NYE when I punched him. For the most part we were really good at just drinking at home together but the second it was a group environment or out it would quickly turn to shit. All my relationships to this point had involved heavy drinking, alcoholism and drug abuse. I wanted to turn shit around. I wasn't ready yet to admit I had a drinking problem but I couldn't stay with someone whom I felt was a sheep to his friends and the pub. Matthew was actually the first person I'd been in a relationship with that didn't drink. I felt so positive about this turn around. No more blackout drunk Hannah, a real connective human being! Little did I know by the time I got with Matt I was already pregnant. Going of my LMP & conception calculator it all seemed utterly legit that Matthew was my unborn child's father. I had fucked up. I mean I don't know what's worse having a child to the wrong person or being a blackout, emotional wreck binge drinker? My pregnancy ultimately saved me from that alcoholism lifestyle. But in turn created a whole new world of hurt and betrayal when the paternity test results came back to reveal my ex was 99.9999% positive match to being my sons biological father. Great royal fuck up. I have yet to forgive myself for this ordeal of putting a family through so much joy & love expecting Matt & my baby. To being so heavily and emotionally involved in Ollie & I. Only to discover Ollie was not in fact a Golding. I never ever set out to hurt anyone my intentions were good and my heart has and always will be in Ollies best interest. To say I brought shame upon my family is an understatement of the century and I was quite quickly and continually reminded that this was me being just like my mother and I was acting just like her and why did I do the test now? Why didn't I wait until after Christmas etc. really though when the fuck is the right time? If you're sitting in a psych ward staring at your child going you look nothing like your father why on earth do you have blonde eyebrows like my ex? Going through separation and being told you won't be your sons primary carer as you're incompetent of being a mother and aren't "cured" yet. When you're faced with having your child taken away from you when it may not even be their biological son, grandson, nephew. What the fuck? I wasn't prepared to sit around on Xmas day pretending we were all happy families that I didn't suspect Ollies paternity to be in question. Yes it was a shit time of year, when I found out the results I was still in QLD visiting. I rang everyone from child first, WIRE, women's refuge, legal aid, local police, mediation you name it I rang them to try put in place a safe and reasonable way to let Matt know in person and have supports their for both sides. Also too to have a place to go to if Ollie and I needed to leave as we didn't have anyone in Melbourne to really rock up and be like oh hey me and my baby need to crash here if we can please as we're homeless. Every response was to tell him. That nothing could be done until end of January for mediation, housing even be it temporarily would only be available if I were fleeing for my life. Prevention & support were not there basically until it was too late. So I told Matthew over the phone. Dog act? No I was waiting until he finished work I asked his Mum to be there for support for him. I knew no matter what this was not going to go down well for anyone. It's a grieving journey now as we not only separate but Matt has chosen not to see Ollie & I again as it would be too painful. At one stage he said he felt as though his son had died. I heavily relied upon Valium to get me through the first part as all I could do was cry for Matt & his family and my heart literally broke for their pain & loss. Taking down the photos off social media was something we said to do in time and discreetly. It took several attempts to try but fail after just curling up crying and looking at my little boy questioning everything about myself. Did I make the right decision? Matt said had I have not involved my ex he would've continued to raise Ollie as his own. My own fear was that he could say that now then 5 years down the track change his mind & then where does that leave Ollie? I was withheld from seeing my own father for years and in my personal experience it messed me up. Even when I did go to live with them it was never the same I spent 9 years with my Mum with barely any interaction allowed with my Dad to living with my Dad, lasting 6 years and being kicked out of home. As a parent you don't want to repeat negative past experiences onto your own children. So here I am now in QLD. Single mother. Have a place to call home on January 2nd with just Ollie & I. I literally left the psych ward and within hours was on the plane to Brisbane. I have shocked even myself how I've gotten this far. (Brisbane was booked pre admission to hospital). Sure I've some not so fine moments since this all happened. But I'm a survivor it's what I do. I make shit work. I would go to the ends of the earth to protect, provide and nurture my sweet boy. Right now things are still loud, everyone is still grieving. I'm 26 and still being told I made the wrong decision in telling Matt before Christmas. There was never going to be a right time. I was told to go back to NZ let my family surround and help Ollie and I get back on our feet. I'm not going back. Nelson is where my grounding roots are but it is not Ollie and my home. I'm stubborn and I'm not ready to go back somewhere I was kicked out of. There's still scars for everyone with what happened there. I'm by the ocean, I have a roof over our heads, clothes on our backs, Ollie is loved and nourished. He is thriving, I eat probably once a day, I forget quite quickly to self care. I am resuming counselling in the new year. I sometimes depend on Valium just to not feel for a little while. To breathe and get through a screaming child, an anxious mind. Ollie has met his biological father, he actively wants to be involved in the upbringing and care for Ollie. I however will be Ollies primary care and Ollie in my sole custody but with full access. You can't just throw a child at someone either and go here, love them make it work. It all takes time. My ex Angus and I will need to go through mediation most likely as we face shit from our past and try establish what's best for Ollie. My exes family loathe me for what has happened. Matthews family is in a world of grief and pain. My own family for the most part think I'm a dickhead. But what is ok, is that Ollie is ok. I am his mother and I will not surround myself with negativity, unwarranted inappropriate opinions. You think I sleep easy at night? Other than having an infant to attend to, no I don't. I'm an overthinker. It's a talent of mine more like. But I'm breathing. Read this and judge me all you want. At the end of the day, my decisions were based on Ollies rights as a child and human being to know whom his biological father is. I was also not going to stay in a relationship for the sake of the fact we had a child (Matt & I). I'd rather do this alone, than be miserable living a lie. A huge thank you to my QLD friends for this past month now. To Ollies Godfather Ben you've been simply amazing. To my best friends whom I thought would judge me and didn't, to the wise women in my life outside of QLD who have encouraged, inspired and driven me thank you. Life is not a fairytale and when you fuck up you get back up and you make sure you don't make the same mistakes twice.

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Days of our psych ward lives

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26 days of psychiatric care in the incredible mother baby unit

2 days left of what will have been a 26 day journey in crying, grieving, learning, growing, breathing, bonding, meltdowns, bad days, good days, great days, shit days and most importantly self care and attaching to my little boy in my journey to becoming the best mother I can humanly possibly be both in physical, mental, emotional and spiritual selflessly giving to him. The road that lead us to the Austin hospital Mother & baby unit also known as the parent infant programme was one as I've previously written about was by no means an easy road to go down. Monday 14th November was admission day, essentially this is a psychiatric unit and is adjacent to the acute adult psychiatric unit and one building over from the secure psychiatric unit. Having previously spent time in a psychiatric unit when I was 19 I had so many anxieties surrounding how this was going to be. Would they hold me here against my own will? No obviously not as this was a voluntary decision. It's a locked unit so not just any Tom, Dick and Harry can walk in and out as they please. The unit consists of 6 private rooms with a double bed, cot, bassinet, recliner and ensuite. The program is designed to take in mothers suffering from mental illnesses and bring with them their infant aged from 5 days to 12 months old. So long as they are of no risk to the child and or anyone else in the unit. The program focuses on gaining psychiatric and medicated care for the mental illness side of things as well as attachment as above mentioned and self care. There are group sessions held on the circle of safety, children's needs, our own needs and even the broader spectrum of family unit. Self care has really made so much more sense to me the longer I've been here. If I can't care for myself and appreciate and love myself how and what am I showing my son as a healthy way to live. In the words of my fave drag queen superstar RuPaul "if you can't love yo'self how in the helllll you gonna love anybody else?" I arrived like a deer in the headlights, running off nervous energy, insomnia, postnatal depression and anxiety and a reflux baby that I felt like I couldn't handle anymore. To say I was suicidal, yes I fantasised about it daily with or without Ollie. I'd lived such a care free selfish life prior to having a baby. And the circumstances surrounding how I wound up pregnant was something after 9 months I still wasn't coping with. At 10 weeks pregnant I had booked in for a termination on my trip down to Melbourne at 5 weeks postpartum I said I felt like I wish I'd had the termination, I was so overwhelmed and so sick. Obviously I pulled through those feelings surrounding termination, when I look at what my body created and I stare at my sweet boy's face now I couldn't imagine my life without him. But life's no fairytale, and hold it against me if you wish but when you're not only faced with pregnancy, a newborn baby but living somewhere completely isolated 2 states away from what was your home for the past 10 years in a brand new relationship the only word I can describe this feeling as is alone. I could stand in front of my partner, mother in law, my partners friends and even with all their well wishes and support I also had never felt so alone. But I'm resilient, a survivor and making shit work is just what I do. But this time round nothing prepared me for the resilience I would need in raising a newborn let alone the survival. Am I bad mother? Am I incompetent? Am I selfish? Am I irrational? No, even as sick as I was, Ollie was always fed, clean & happy. Was he safe? Yes my suicidal tendencies weren't a directive at Ollie however the screaming at him to shut up and the frustration and anxiety surrounding my responsibility of having him would often make me want to run away from him. Or drive us off a cliff. I knew this wasn't ok. I also knew my mental state was gravely affecting my partner and our relationship. The 26 days of acute psychiatric care in the mother baby unit has helped in healing so much of the above. It is an around the clock nurse supported environment with a doctor on the ward as well as psychiatrists and social workers. You name it, the support in this unit has got it. Whilst it's a clinical environment it has been designed to be most minimalistic in the clinical sense. There's bright colours, artwork, children's play areas, a shared changing area and bottle prep room where in both you have your own station set up for your bub. The nurses here I cannot praise enough! I'd hate to think where I would be at mentally if I didn't come in here when I did. I needed to come clean with my emotions in a safe and environment that would help me without judgement and with the tools to help me get back on track. Admission processing was daunting, bag searches for sharps, meds, anything that you could potentially hurt yourself with. Sitting in a room with 5 people ranging from the doctor, intern, leading nurse, student nurse and visiting doctor from Spain. We started from the beginning, childhood, the domestic violence, the guilt, the loss, the retaliation, the self harming, self destructing, kicked out of home. The alcohol abuse, the solid couple of years of drug abuse. The sexual assault. The anger, the resentment, the displacement, the decision 4 months prior to Ollies conception of not wanting kids to being pregnant. The addictive personality, the body image obsession, the purging the starving the reliance on laxatives. You name it I had it out there on the table. Previous relationships with partners, current relationship, future and where was my head at? There were things that I didn't even think affected me until they were raised and hit a nerve and I'd break down but talk through it. I cannot thank the psychiatrist enough for my admission being pushed forward. The first few days were the hardest, I wanted to run away from the unit so badly, I was exhausted and the night nurses took Ollie for 2 consecutive nights so I could catch up on sleep but as my psychiatrist explained I was going to feel worse before I felt better. So very true. I was hesitant about the medications they wanted me on, so I had print offs of everything. Whilst the Prozac was heavily pushed and the Valium my time on taking temazapan the sleeping tablet was short lived as I couldn't see this being the best option for me with getting up to feed Ollie. There's no quick fix. 26 days and I still find myself riddled with anxiety however over different things now like losing Ollie which is a great turn around to how I felt when I came in. My highs were high and my lows were so fucking low. I learnt how to manage a reflux baby in a controlled environment, I learnt about being Ollies safe haven, learning his cues, interacting with him, and just enjoying him! I'm not embarrassed to admit that I got help. Im not my mental illness, being in psychiatric care doesn't make you a psycho. Most women in here are in here voluntarily and going through the same shit. It was a breath of fresh air to be surrounded by women who knew too well these feelings. As I gained clarity however not everything went swimmingly, Matthew and my relationship has heavily deteriorated. We can barely be in the same room as each other as we struggle to understand each other. I have tried to go home for weekend visits, sadly it hasn't worked. My belongings sit in the hallway packed and awaiting a decision. Whatever happens Ollie will be safe and I would never disallow my son to see his father but also there is now a fire inside of me. And through arguments and fear, hell hath no fury like a mother being told she isn't competent to be her child's primary carer for seeking help. Mediation, amicability, time and again life's not a fairytale. I see Matts suffering I see someone I love and care for deeply but I see our worlds completely clashing with hurt and fire at the moment. Is that a bad thing? No, not everything is meant to be and if for a second we thought this was going to be easy we would've been kidding ourselves. But staying together in a toxic relationship isn't an example I wish to raise Ollie in. Where to from here? We will be discharged in less than 48 hours and on a plane to Brisbane just Ollie and I for 8 days of being back on what is my familiarity and home turf. Feet in the ocean sand between my fingers and sun shining down over us. I'm not sure where the next chapter is going to lead us just yet. I'm done with running away but I'm not done with self caring and self healing and that is exactly what this trip is going to be about. Because right now in Melbourne everything still feels incredibly loud and fiercely painful. The mother baby unit saved me in mind, body & soul. I gave myself to the universe and I am more empowered now than ever before. I have cared for Ollie for 26 days on my own essentially and bonded with my child more spiritually than I could've ever imagined. Psych wards aren't for psychos. They're also for smart people who know what's ok and what's not ok. Thank you to my favourite nurses (not that you're meant to have faves) Steph, Jane, Annie & Shanti the night nurse. And to the rest of the incredible team here thank you for your support, compassion and teachings. To my fellow sisters of the mother baby unit I know we will be lifelong friends from this. To our courageous sister Kerry who we sadly lost over the weekend your beautiful spirit is felt within each and everyone of us. When you can't keep going, reach out, youll never regret getting better you'll only ever regret not getting help sooner.

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Days of our psych ward lives the beginning

Two worlds of extremes. That's the only way in short I can summarise to you my personal stance on PND & anxiety. One minute things are great and we're going so good the next it's crashing and I'm drowning in an anxiety ridden state. For anyone who hasn't experienced this type of hell it most likely isn't quite as simple to wrap your head around. My personal struggle with PND & anxiety has seen me put a voice to it after no longer being able to cope from day to day. Which has had myself & Ollie admitted into the mother baby unit of the acute psychiatric ward at the Austin hospital. My personal experience in this unit is a whole other piece within itself. What I want to shed light on today is parts of this mental illness that make seemingly normal things feel loud and too much. I came into the mother baby unit with struggled attachment to Ollie and a big world of resentment, self loathing, anger, hurt and suicidal fantasies based around my new found motherhood ship that I was virtually crashing like the titanic just minus the sexy Leonardo DiCaprio.... Back to what I was arriving like, I was almost this shell of my former self, 3 weeks I have now been in this non clinical yet still somewhat clinical controlled & supported environment. I assumed my role as Ollies primary carer and formed that stronger more connected bond & attachment with him. Not quite like the gooey one you see on the Johnson & johnsons baby ads but a sturdy enough one that got me right in all the feels. The meds, just because you go onto various meds to help reduce that noise & anxiety that goes on in your head, doesn't necessarily mean the depression & anxiety changes channel it just means we've hopefully gone from watching James Bond in full fight or flight mode to the lion king and protecting the herd. The meds don't fix your shit moments and I quickly became enraged at being told by outsiders to "ask for some more meds". Valium is great, doesn't always work but when it does it's great. But I also have an addictive personality and I know that the warning flags are already up for me with how much I love being given a solid bit of Valium and how much I struggle without it. Kind of like my previous relationship with alcohol. So here we have these shit moments and being the lion king wanting to protect my pack. I met a beautiful women in this unit whom is now fighting for her life in ICU and not going to pull through leaving behind a beautiful little boy whom the universe decided would come 3 weeks early. Just 10 days before the car crash that lead to her being in ICU. I've never held Ollie so tight. When it's someone you know and met through such an emotional and vulnerable time you don't just cop it on the chin. She was part of our sisterhood of the mother baby unit. The tragedy will never leave me and yet I know I must grieve but at the same time find peace and not dwell on it. I admire the strength it took her to seek out the psychiatric care that she needed in getting through her pregnancy and mentally through to the other side. I jokingly call this place "days of our psych ward lives" as there's never a dull moment but there's also so many empowering supportive moments. This is no child minding resort for Mums. I've been more hands on in here with Ollie than I ever previously was. There's no fairy godmother with a magical want to just "cure" you. There's tears, lots of tears, panic attacks, vomiting & diarrhoea. The I cants sometimes screaming louder than the I can and I wills! Through all this hard work I've gained the ability of confidence & enough self care to selflessly give my all to my son in providing him with emotionally the most secure base in the circle of safety. (Circle of safety google it, great proven study). If you ask my family we can assure that love is too like a circle not a triangle as triangles have corners. 3 weeks of institutionalised living and totally not what I expected. Whilst this has destroyed the good we had left in my relationship with Matt. And I have been made to feel guilty, withdrawn, incompetent amongst many other things since my time in here. I can assure you that the selfish person I used to be, the free spirited fly off the walls do what I want and break down right down women is not me anymore. I am stronger, I am resilient, I am capable, I am loving, I deserve to love & be loved. Like my mantra in bikram yoga. "I came here to breathe" and not all the clarity and revelations along the way have been positive. As I sit and write this raw & real piece, I have all my belongings packed up sitting in the hallway at home. I have a dispute unresolved with my partner on who is to be Ollies primary carer. I am fighting to keep my son. I am scared out of my fucking mind BUT. Even with those boxes packed and nowhere to go at this stage I am present I am here and focusing on today. Embracing Ollie actually having some epic day snoozes so I can sit here and just breathe. Open my heart let the hurt out, let the tears flow. But know that in being here this is right where I am meant to be right now. Life's not a fairytale and fuck I wanted it to be so badly when I found out I was pregnant but we play the cards we're dealt in life and go from there. The mother baby unit at the Austin hospital psychiatric unit has been the best thing I could've ever ever done! It saved my life, gave me hope, gave me the strength I needed to be the badass Mama that I am! Never be afraid to speak up and fuck everyone else's opinions & voices let you do you! Mental illness is real, yes I wanted to end everything 3 weeks ago but you don't ever have to live in that hell. Besides, hospital food ain't so bad after awhile, it's like Jenny Craig but without the excessive spending. And there's no Kmart close by so I've probably saved a solid $50 or more. Find the good, find your voice, believe in you and don't drive the car in the direction you don't truly want to go.

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The blue ribboned cow

Today I'm ever so proudly strutting my stuff celebrating not wearing breastpads anymore after 7 weeks of being an exceptional blue ribboned cow, I now have my soft cushioned boobies back minus the leaking! Boom! But alas it hasn't all been this exciting and wonderful getting to this point of dried up milk producing goodness. There is sooooooo much pressure and shamming in 2016 around breastfeeding. Breast is best is the ringtone for maternal child health nurses I'm sure of it! I think there ought to be some stigma dropping in regards to this. First off, how you choose to parent is not necessarily how I choose to parent. Therefor your beliefs on breastfeeding mightn't be the same as my beliefs on the matter. And that's ok! I was so pro breastfeeding before having Ollie, I was also so aware that I mightn't be able to breastfeed. Thus I covered all bases, breast pump, bottles, nipple shields, breast pads, hydro gel discs, feeding pillow. We had that shit down pat! And I told myself over and over that if I wasn't able to breastfeed that in fact that was ok Hannah and don't beat yourself up about it. So out comes Ollie, the nurses are amazed at how much colostrum I'm squirting out as they sit there milking me to syringe feed Ollie, as at this stage he had a lot of mucus and was struggling to latch on. My boob ego was delighted by this news of my colostrum. Day two and Ollie was on the boob. Winning! Or so I thought. For anyone who hasn't breastfed before I'm not going to sugar coat it, it's awkward as fuck and there you are flopping around these engorged knockers around trying to catch your babies mouth to latch properly, then hooray they're on! Then fuck they're off, they're on, they're off, there's milk literally squirting itself out of your nipples and going straight up your babies nose or in their eye. So they're crying "Mum what the hell are you doing with my food?" There's the 5000039392 different positions you'll try out when feeding to see whats comfiest. I felt like a pro answering the door to the midwife one day with Ollie still feeding away happily like "check out my latest party trick guys!" So eventually you get it..... if you're lucky a few weeks in and it's smooth sailing. I feel like my breastfeeding story when backwards then up and down then back again. I wound up with a fissure on one of my nipples, so incredibly painful especially at 3am feeds I've noticed. Then we saw the lactation consultant because his latch wasn't feeling right and I needed some tips and tricks. I discovered a lot of my discomfort was from thrush in my nipples. I DIDNT EVEN KNOW THAT WAS A THING!!!! Here I am thinking it only affects your hoo-ha and low and behold one can get this in their nipples! So we treat the thrush. All along Ollie has been mix fed of expressed breast milk and breastfed due to needing to gain weight after birth. So I'm pumping daily, feeding the grizzly gremlin who half the time isn't too sure if he wants the boob or not. Then I'm super stressed I just feel like this kid is constantly hanging off my boob, so I forget to eat, I'm lucky to hoof down brekky in the morning and then I'm eating lunch at 4pm. Yeah not working. Welcome to motherhood I tell myself. Then Ollie decides that screaming on the boob is his new thing and by bedtime he's so exhausted he hardly wants to latch on. I keep saying almost threateningly I'm going to put him on formula. He starts having a bottle before bed of expressed milk. But I'm having to wake him for feeds in the night as I'm waking up in a puddle of breast milk mmmm yummy, and my boobs feel as though they're going to explode. The pains get worse, I get worse, I start resenting the whole ordeal of breastfeeding, it's passing week 4 now and people keep saying around now it gets easier and I just feel like it's getting shitter and shitter and I'm By now really beginning to resent my new found role as Mama Bear. Don't even get me started on how big my boobs have now gotten! My back is like yeah see ya later we're out. My shoulders are like "excuse me we never signed up for being over sized boulder holders". I go to get fitted for a new underwire breastfeeding bra. I'm not even going to tell you what size I was given or how immensely hideous the bra was because I still believe there's hope yet ladies.... but it was so ugly, so big and so damm expensive! It's around about now I have this epic melt down. Cue threatening to go on formula. I'm being encouraged left right and centre that I'm doing great and keep going with the boobs. Nope. I turn up to my counsellor one shitty Wednesday afternoon and that's it, I've barely made it in the door and I'm a crying mess. My rad counsellor takes Ollie so I can have my arms back and let the tears flow. I explain the guilt, the pressure, the stigma of formula feeding. She sets me straight. Upon walking home that's it, it's set in decision made, we're going to switch to formula. Ollie already had reflux we found out 2 days later hence the screaming. Formula was the most calming feeding experience. I kept pumping and we mixed feed to ease his belly into it. Then the drying up process began. Holá engorgement! And the fear of mastitis working its way into my brain. Ladies cabbage leaves! Became a wee BFF of mine. Still had the guilts, still had sore boobs, itchy nipples for ages! Slowly the guilt left me. Because at the end of the day, I was feeding my baby was I not? I wasn't providing my child adequate feeds in not nourishing myself properly and being stressed at every feed. Babies sense your stress, they also smell when you're about to eat I swear to god! Breast isn't always best. No I didn't have milk supply issues, I could've kept feeding him had I have sucked it up and dealt with the reflux screams the shitty latching, the leaking boobs in the middle of the night, the giant boobies and ugly bras. But I chose my sanity, am I selfish? Nope. I read time and time again on social media how women tell other women. "No don't give up! It gets easier! Breast is best!". Yeah but it's also best not to send yourself bat shit crazy doing something that really isn't working for you. I remember sitting on the couch and thinking nope that's it formula it is at least 4 or more times a day at feeds. I let the guilt and others opinions carry my breastfeeding journey on longer than it needed to. I said no to breastfeeding and my baby despite being troubled by reflux is healthy and happy. And so am I. Time to crush the guilt and formula feeding shamming. A fed baby is a happy baby no matter which way you decide to go about it!