Welcome to Mums Advice

Category: Our stories

  • Hey You Take Your Freaking Pill

    Hey, you.

    Take your freaking pill.

    (Your anti depressant. Your SSRI. Your anti anxiety med.)

    You know, whatever pill you cringe at the thought of having to take?

    Yeah. That one.

    Take it, please.

    You deserve to be healthy.
    You deserve to feel sunshine.
    You deserve joy.

    You deserve a brain that doesn’t beat you up.

    And yes, I know it’s kind of a pain.

    I also know some days you might feel strong enough to do without it.

    But that little pill isn’t for the good days, my dear.

    And don’t you remember the bad days?

    Those days when the storm clouds come rolling in.

    When energy leaks out of your body like someone pulled the drain.

    When brushing your teeth feels like a marathon and sunshine is offensive and even the most joyful noises of your household sounds like a million bees in your head…

    I remember those days.

    And that’s why I take the pill.

    One day at a time, one refill at a time, one season at a time, I take the pill.

    You see, sometimes sunshine tastes like sour chalk and has to be washed down with water.

    Sometimes God’s biggest miracles come in little orange bottles.

    Sometimes your very salvation is written on a prescription pad, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

    Fight the good fight with me. Stay in the sunshine. Vulnerability is courageous as hell, and it takes so much courage to admit you need this.

    Warrior on, my friend. You aren’t alone.

    Take your freaking pill.

    I’m sure as heck taking mine.

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/martina.thompson2

  • Please Research And Trust Your Gut About Vaccines

    My wife and I had started noticing a lot of infants and toddlers passing away and people saying they were from vaccines. We were worried. Didn’t think it would happen to us.

    We sat in the parking lot before our appointment. Discussed both our opinions on the matter. Neither of us wanted to do it. But I decided on doing it anyways because I didn’t know I could refuse. I sat in the car with my older two kids. My wife went into the appointment with our Izabella and after about an hour she came out. She wasn’t the same.

    Not like my other two when they had their shots. A few days went by and she was absolutely inconsolable. Day in and day out. My wife, Izzy and I were sleep deprived. She was always crying and not her normal self. Overly hungry all the time and my wife couldn’t keep up with breast feeding. One night all 5 of us had went to bed.

    My wife, Izzy and I finally got to bed at about 2-4am. I honestly don’t remember the time anymore. I just remember waking up just before 8 am and I had went to move Izabella from the position she was in and I noticed her eyes and lips were purple and skin was overly pale. Her body limp. I screamed for my wife to wake up when the realization hit.

    We called 911 and started the resuscitation procedures. To no avail. The ambulance arrived and they continued to do cpr on the way to the hospital over an hour away. We rushed to the hospital and watched them in the ER trying to bring our dear Izzy back to life. They finally called the TOD at 11am. We were destroyed. Our worlds fell apart. We miss Izabella Jayde Reimer every day. We had her cremated when we got her back from the Medical examiner for the autopsy.

    The entire time we were waiting I was pushing the Sheriff investigating for the toxicology report as well as the Coroner and Medical examiner because I knew it had to have been vaccines. She wasn’t herself since that day. After the funeral we were finally able to get the toxicology report. After the investigation on us was closed. The report itself contained no information that was of any value, and the autopsy report was absolutely gruesome. By then it was to late for a second opinion..

    Please research and trust your gut about vaccines. If you get them and your kids are fine, kudos. But many of us have suffered immensely and aren’t so lucky.

    10/06/17 – 1/06/18

    WeDid

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/Agenda21.NWO.HAARP.Conspiracy.Theorist

  • The Greatest Romance Story

    The story of Napoleon and Josephine is one of the great romantic stories, but what is less well known is how it all ended.

    After her coronation as empress it was apparent she had reached the menopause and as Josephine’s grandson died (who was the heir apparent Napoleon was keenly aware he had founded a dynasty with no male heir. Eventually he married the much younger Austrian princess Marie-Louise of by proxy. The purposes was to conceive an heir rather than a love match and it’s interesting to note that even after the divorce Napoleon insisted Josephine retain the title of empress.

    After the divorce, Joséphine lived at the Château de Malmaison, near Paris. She remained on good terms with Napoléon, who once said that the only thing to come between them was her debts.

    In 1811 Marie- Louise delivered a long-awaited heir, to whom Napoleon gave the title “King of Rome”. Joséphine met the young prince in 1813 which must have been bitter sweet for her. In the first few months of 1814 contracted died of pneumonia just four days after catching cold during a walk with Tsar Alexander in the gardens of Malmaison. She was buried in the nearby church of Saint Pierre-Saint Paul in Rueil.

    At this moment in time Napoleon was in exile in Elba and learned of the news not via friend or family but by newspaper. He stayed locked in his room for two days, refusing to see anyone. He claimed to a friend, while in exile on Saint Helena, that “I truly loved my Joséphine, but I did not respect her.” Napoleon would of course rally and fight the Waterloo campaign where he was beaten and sent to an island in the middle of Atlantic where he lived for the rest of his days. Despite his numerous affairs, eventual divorce, and remarriage, the Emperor’s last words on his death bed were: “France, l’armée, tête d’armée, Joséphine”. Translated that’s the slightly bizarre but romantic list of “France, the Army, the Head of the Army, Joséphine.”

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/History-Gems-405343956153479/

  • He Came Out Of School So Sad

    At first look, you may think this is my daughter, you would be wrong, this is my 3 year old son who absolutely loves his spiderman dress..


    On Friday, my handsome kind boy wore his spiderman dress to nursery , he went into nursery so so happy, he couldn’t wait to show all his friends his twirling, he couldn’t wait to make them smile.
    He came out of school so so sad, two girls had laughed at him and told him he was wearing a girls dress. It absolutely broke his heart, and mine too!


    Now, no-one would bat an eyelid if my daughter went into school wearing a hulk costume… So why should he be laughed at for wearing a dress?
    After it happened, quite a few people said “well you should of expected it”…. No, no I definitely shouldnt of, its a piece of clothing, it doesn’t define my son, he also loves playing with dinosaurs, cars and Thomas the tank engine.

    Why the fuck aren’t we teaching our children to be kind?! Why should I expect my son to be picked on if he wears a dress?
    Children are THE most important people we should be teaching to be kind, they are the ones who can change the world, not us, they are the future, they will be bringing up their own children, hopefully to be kind, if they are taught to be kind, they will teach others, it’s common sense!

    So in a world where our children can be anything, encourage them to be kind!

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/lisachelseaanne

  • Eating Disorder Awareness

    Trigger warning ❤️🖤💜

    So, this week is eating disorder awareness week. Every year I do a post on my experience with an eating disorder as I think it is incredibly important we raise awareness and offer support to those who struggle.


    For those who don’t know I had anorexia when I was 15 years old (around that age). I was in recovery for two years with a counsellor – at one point they wanted to admit me to hospital to be tube fed however my mum took the time out of her life to care for me 24/7 at home to feed me as well as monitor my health, see this is the other thing people don’t realise, it’s not just the appearance anorexia or any eating disorder effects it is the internal damage.

    I was high risk of a heart attack, had constant tummy and chest pains as well as having to have weekly/fortnightly blood tests to check all was functioning normally. Despite all of this I still wanted to loose weight. Fast forward to now I still struggle with body image, I’m sure most people get sick of hearing me say I need to loose weight or I’m fat, but to me this is really.

    I don’t see my body how others see it, in fact I’m the heaviest I’ve been in years and that is a huge daily battle. I am incredibly grateful to my body for growing and birthing two gorgeous boys however I still hate myself for many different reasons always wishing I looked different or could change things about me.

    Although my story is of my battle with anorexia I have also come across people on my journey who have a different eating disorder, some you would have no idea struggles, this is the thing not all disorders are visible so please be kind and offer support because trust me living with a demon like this is awful and it never goes away, you just learn to accept it as the new you. My inbox is always open to anyone struggling, please seek the help you need ❤️


    I do not have any photos of myself from ten years ago however the photo on the left is me after I split from my ex, I saw myself as fat and hated myself. I look back at that image and wish I was like that now instead of the weight I am but I know it’s not healthy in reality.

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/ellamay.freeman

  • I Nearly Throat Chopped My 2 Year Old

    I don’t do scary movies… I watched Paranormal Activity about 5 years ago and still have demon-related PTSD. In the middle of the night I heard our bedroom door creak open. I figured it was Lennox but it was pitch-black so I couldn’t tell. I blinked away the sleep so I could help him up into our bed. Instead, in the doorway was a set of terrifying glowing eyes and mouth. It wasn’t a random light and it was hovering only a foot or so above the ground.

    I froze trying to figure out what the hell I was looking at. Then silently it drifted a few feet closer. Our house is 120 years old. If you LOOK at the floors the wrong way they creak. But this thing didn’t make a sound. That’s when I called upon the Lord.

    Now, my relationship with the Big Guy isn’t real consistent…. I’m like that friend who only calls when they need to borrow money. But I needed Him NOW. I thought “Lord, it’s Angela. If you’ve got any of that white light laying around would you mind sprinkling some around my bed? Leftovers can be sent my kid’s rooms but the white light priority is right here.” The thought no sooner left my head and the demon moved closer.

    By now I’m completely frozen, completely freaking out. And I thought “Alright, LORD! The white light ain’t gonna do it. You’re going to call up the Archangel Michael himself and tell him to get to Walnut Street stat! There is some real life demon slaying that needs done and you gotta call in the big guns.”

    The demon grew closer and I knew the Lord had forsaken me. I was on my own. I was weighing out if throat chops work on demons when suddenly it whispered… “Mommy?” Oh. Sweet Baby Jesus in a manger. Oh, it was just my Lennox, thank you Lord. But wait… why the heck was he glowing??? I flipped on the bedside light to reveal a (apparently glow in dark!) Ninja Turtle shirt. It was at this moment I realized three things:

    1) My baby has a future as a ninja because he was absolutely soundless.
    2) I nearly throat chopped my two-year-old.
    3) If I’m going to expect quick service from Michael the Archangel I’m going to have to stop being Jesus’s “call you when I need money” friend.

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/angelamkelsay

  • The Funny Side Of Bras

    Bras for c-cups and under: Hello princess, let me kiss your nipples with a hint of lace, while enrobing your breasts in fine silk, gently embracing them together like two fragile turtle doves, cooing in the snow.

    Bras for d-cups and up: What’s up blob-fish, here’s beige canvas held together by braided rope in constrictor knots, and intricate pulley-system. Don’t forget to yell “Heave-ho!” before hoisting those anchors onto the upper deck so people in a 5-mile radius can run for cover. We attached a hastily-made bow in the middle, so you’ll feel pretty.

  • To The Mama In Row 19

    To the Mama in row 19

    I watched you and your husband board the plane with your handsome 20 year old son who had Down syndrome. My insides freaked out when you sat right in front of me. On a giant plane with hundreds of people…. it was meant to be!!

    Your son kept turning around and playing with my boy. They were holding hands and making faces to eachother. You tried to distract your boy from “bugging” the people behind you. But then you turned around and saw my 5 year old who also has Down syndrome. Your face lit up!! You started playing with him from between the seats. Asking basic questions about him in broken English.

    Halfway through the flight my wife brought our 2 year old to me and we swapped kids. When you saw my ‘baby’ who also has Down syndrome you couldn’t contain yourself! You played with him through the seats for a matter of minutes before you were standing up with open arms to take him from me. And with zero hesitation I handed him over.

    For over half an hour I watched as you sang to him, snuggled him, played little games and loved on him. I watched your son stroke my boys face and give him many kisses on on the cheek. Despite the horrible travel we had prior, and our pure exhaustion, you couldn’t wipe the giant smile off my face for anything!

    As I watched your son my heart soared as I saw my future. And I know as you looked into to the almond eyes of my boys you saw your past.

    I would never ever just hand one of my kids off to a complete stranger. But you weren’t a stranger. Despite never knowing you. Despite your broken English and my zero ability to speak Spanish (unless dos cervezas por favor counts? 😂). You weren’t a stranger. You are family, you are my tribe, you are me. The connection, the understanding and the bond we share because of our journeys. One of my favorite things about parenting our amazing sons. The giant family we automatically joined because of 47 perfect chromosomes.

    To the Mama in row 19. Thank you 💛💙

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/holly.teare

  • To The Woman Who Is Hoping And Longing

    To any woman picking this box up to stare at it in longing, in mourning, in hesitation. To wonder. To wish. To throw it in her shopping cart again this month.

    Throwing it in with hope. With fear. With premature excitement. With anticipation. With a sense of dread that it may just be another down the drain waste basket Walmart drop of $12.98. Knowing that even if she didn’t buy this one, she’d be filling her basket full of 99 cent droppers tests, or trying every single other brand to double check a cruel reality.

    To any woman who has pulled this test out of it’s box time and time again, only to cry in disappointment and frustration at that one faint negative line in the result window. Only to remember why this has been the hardest money to spend and the hardest pill to swallow. After all the treatments, injections, prescriptions, hormones, cycles, and positive feedback, how could there only be one single line? How? How could the test still be negative?

    Why, after everything, is completely crumbling to shambles her end result. How come nothing she has done been successful? How come not a single medical breakthrough has actually broken through? Is she a failure? Is all hope completely lost?

    To the woman who could own stock in these not so cheap little plastic sticks. Because no matter the difficulties she has faced or the hurdles she has struggled to jump, she never loses hope – hope that maybe this might finally be her month. Maybe this excruciating journey will come to an end and she’ll finally get to make her first doctors appointment, and plan her announcement. Maybe she can tell her best friend during that joyful lunch date or video conference her family in another state. Maybe she can look forward to the good for a while and forget about the bad.

    To the woman who is going back to the trash can a day later just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke. Maybe it was actually positive and just took longer to show it. The woman who has picked this up in the store and put it back, because she can’t handle another heartbreaking night in the bathroom. She can’t handle another shower just to hide the gut wrenching sobs. She walks past this test in Target, and gives it a soft glassy, doubtful glance. “Why bother?” She asks herself. “Why put myself through it all again this month.”

    To the woman who took this test last week and got her positive. She got her wish. Her miracle. She got the one thing she had prayed fervently for. The woman who is on the table this week at her first ultrasound hearing no heartbeat, thinking back to the relief and joy she felt the moment the test in this pink box made all her dreams come true. Dreams now crushed – by devastation, by an unexpected and unwelcome fate. The woman who is now living with a broken heart, broken plans, broken dreams and broken promises.

    To the woman who picks the perfect gift, and silently smiles at baby showers, month after month, year after year. Still holding on to hope that one day it might be her they’re celebrating. She is exploding with happiness for her friends, but engulfed in mourning for herself.

    This test? It does not define you. Each time it’s thrown in the trash doesn’t decrease YOUR worth. This test does not make you more or less of a person. It’s thin, stained lines selfishly taunt some of your most valued, precious endeavors, but it does not define your goodness. It will never measure your womanhood, or your ability to love. It doesn’t compare you to others, and it doesn’t set your worth.

    Your life is incredibly valuable and at the end of the day, whether or not that second line appears, you are still strong. You’re still going to keep pressing on, and you’re going to be ok.

    It is not your fault.

    You are not broken.

    Your body is not damaged.

    Your are still very much a woman. A woman who is no less than the women this comes effortless for.

    You deserve to achieve all of the things you set your mind to.

    Your dreams, goals and life visions are and will always be worth chasing, no matter the cost.

    It’s ok to ask questions.
    And it’s ok to ask the hard ones to God.

    This is not the end for you.

    This battle is not your whole story.

    The pain you feel is real, and yes, you should feel it to it’s full extremity.

    You should talk about it.

    You should keep fighting it, but only because you are 1 in 8 that are brave enough to.

    Sweet girl, do not let this downpour consume you. Do not let it become who you are or what you are about. If anything, allow it to give you a bigger voice. Allow it to become your motivation. Your power. Your direction to win this race you’re weary of running.

    I’m not going to say be patient. I’m not going to say try harder, or take a break, or “just relax.” I’m going to say, there are no realistic answers here. There are no incentives that exempt us from the trials and tribulations of life. No matter how much I wish there was, there just isn’t. There are no fairytales. There are no explanations for why things happen the way that they do, but I trust that there is a reason. There is an underlying purpose in our deepest, darkest struggle. Maybe it’s a beautiful, happy ending. Maybe it’s being the comfort and salvation someone else needs in this exact journey. Maybe it’s simply a small voice that whispers for us to get back up and try again tomorrow – because it is going to be ok.

    I’m going to keep praying for you. I’m going to keep you on my heart with faith that this page is going to turn. This uphill climb is going to lead to one breathtaking view, and your suffering will be no more.

    But in the mean time, remember – you’re valuable and oh so incredibly beautiful. You’re a good friend, an extraordinary light, and a sister or daughter. Maybe, somehow, you’re already a mother just longing for more. You’re not in this alone. Your boat is not going to sink. Adjust your sails and have peace, my girl. You are going to be ok.

    • @𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

  • Breastfeeding Is NOT Normalized

    Breastfeeding is NOT normalized and I’m going to tell you why.

    2 days ago Ashley Graham posted this picture of her looking sexy as hell and got a whole lot of love on her post.
    1 day prior she posted the picture of her feeding her baby and every other comment talks about how she needs to cover up and she shouldn’t expose herself like that and other crap comments.

    Why is it okay to post sexy bikini pictures but it’s not okay to post a breastfeeding picture?

    I hope the woman worried about her “8 year old son” seeing this is also keeping her son away from beaches and pools.

    I hope the women preaching that Ashley needs a cover her baby while he eats in public are also covering themselves while they eat.

    I hope those commenting on her picture how “inappropriate” it is are also telling Victoria’s Secret to take down their advertising pictures in malls.

    Breastfeeding is not normalized. People still think it’s gross or weird or inappropriate. This is why we have to fight so hard to normalize it.

    NEWS FLASH: Breastfeeding advocates aren’t shaming you for bottle/formula feeding your baby. We simply believe in every mother’s right to breastfeed if that’s what she chooses. We believe in the right to be properly educated on breastfeeding and to have proper access to resources when needed. We believe that women have a right to breastfeeding support.

    And we believe that every woman has the right to publicly feed their baby any way they choose without being shamed for it!

    A lot of ignorant people are completely missing the point of this post. The “likes” don’t matter. Yes, the breastfeeding picture has more “likes” but have you read the comments? They’re horrible. While the bikini picture has less “likes” there’s more support and uplifting comments on that post.

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1488816968