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Tag: baby

  • Stop Censoring Motherhood

    “Posting this tonight with tears in my eyes. I can’t help it. The pregnancy and birth of my little girl was the most amazing thing I’ve ever been a part of. Some people don’t want kids, and I respect that. Really, I do. But for me, You see, I always have.

    When it finally happened though, it was so hard to fully comprehend. Pregnancy and babies, I mean that’s common. It’s everywhere. But when its YOUR body and YOUR baby, it’s so different. You literally feel like it’s a miracle. Because, when it happens to you, it is. What brings me to to write this, is the post-baby.

    I followed SO many pregnant models during my pregnancy. And when they photographed themselves pool-side 5 minutes postpartum, I thought, “wow! I hope that happens to me!” I was 25 when I gave birth. I was healthy. I was young. I stayed active during my pregnancy. I took the best prenatals, went to the gym, used every kind of stretch mark prevention you could think of. I took hours of birthing classes, read every book under the sun, and studied natural childbirth my whole pregnancy.

    I STILL ended up with a traumatic labor, cesarean section, scars, stretch marks, and unfortunately the inability to breastfeed long-term. I took this picture a few days after I gave birth, when my PPD really first reared its head into my life. I took this and actually was horrified.

    I couldn’t believe it was me. I’m sharing it because I know in my heart that there are people out there that struggle with inadequacy. That might think they are not beautiful, that they might be ruined, less worthy, or not good enough. Yours might not actually be physical scars, but maybe, a failed relationship, a difficulty in your career, a mental struggle, money issues, or just feeling lost in life. Be kind to yourself. And know that you are not alone. Comparison is the thief of joy. Don’t let social media taint your view of what is beautiful, what is REAL. And above all, know that if you are struggling, I am here. I have an open inbox or (if you actually know me) an open door. #stopcensoringmotherhood #nofilter”

    Full Credit: www.instagram.com/baybayruth/

  • Here Is Where Some Of Our Common Sayings Come From

    They used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot & then once a day it was taken & Sold to the tannery…….if you had to do this to survive you were “Piss Poor”

    But worse than that were the really poor folk who couldn’t even afford to buy a pot……they “didn’t have a pot to piss in” & were the lowest of the low. The next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn’t just how you like it, think about how things used to be.

    Here are some facts about the 1500s:

    Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June.. However, since they were starting to smell . …… . Brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting Married.

    Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it.. Hence the saying, “Don’t throw the baby out with the Bath water!”

    Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof… Hence the saying “It’s raining cats and dogs.”

    There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That’s how canopy beds came into existence.

    The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, “Dirt poor.” The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way. Hence: a thresh hold.

    In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire.. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme: Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old. Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, “bring home the bacon.” They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and chew the fat.

    Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.

    Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the upper crust.

    Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would Sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial.. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a wake.

    England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive… So they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell or was considered a dead ringer.

  • My Baby Nearly Died Because Of An Innocent Childrens Toy

    “This is the hardest thing I have ever had to write. It’s long but please read. Especially if you are a parent.

    So I’ve just experienced the worst 24 hours of my life. My son Toby yesterday nearly died. They say you can’t watch them 24/7 and how true that is.

    Yesterday around lunchtime Toby managed to put something in his mouth and he started to choke. I walked towards Toby and be walked towards me holding his throat and unable to breathe. Whatever it was had become lodged in his throat blocking his airway. I called rich and he came running. An ambulance was called and we started the attempt to save our boys life. We started with back thrusts but the lodged item Wouldn’t budge. Rich attempted to scoop it out but still to no avail. Our friend and colleague Campbell came to assist and rich and him working as a team started performing CPR.

    Watching that being performed on your own child is a vision I will never be rid of. He managed only a couple of short laboured breaths and went in and out of consciousness. On two occasions he stopped breathing, his body went limp, eyes in the back of his head. We all thought the worst.

    His jaw had locked shut, My limp lifeless boy on the cold kitchen floor. The ambulance crew arrived within 6 minutes and started to attempt to save Toby. He expelled blood from his nose and was blue. Never a sight I ever wish to witness on anybody. I had flashing images throughout it all but never let go of my boy’s hand. I was pulled away at one point but fought my way back to my boy’s side. No matter what outcome he would want his mummy with him.

    The paramedics arrived and took control, Rich and Campbell taking it in turns to perform CPR. The crew managed to get his mouth open and get a blade in and engaged the ball enough to scoop it out. There I was thinking my boy had choked on a marble, not a large approx 4cm wide rubber ball. One of those innocent rubber balls you get in party bag favours, they sell in those machines in pubs, they are super bouncy and great fun! I never ever wish to see one of those balls again.

    My Baby Nearly Died Because Of An Innocent Childrens Toy
    My Baby Nearly Died Because Of An Innocent Childrens Toy

    Toby was rushed to hospital as he wasn’t able to breathe on his own. He had X-rays and there was a shadow over one lung. There was now the worry of infection and any life long damage caused due to lack of oxygen to his brain. He was able to, with limited response nod or shake his head. Drifting in and out of sleep. My normal talkative 2.5 year old boy wasn’t talking. He was put on antibiotics straight away. He remained on oxygen for over 12 hours, every time they tried to remove it his little body couldn’t cope. He slept longer than he has ever slept in his life with his mummy watching every breath. His little body struggling to breath like it should. He kept getting a raised temperature, something else to cause more concern. I couldn’t bare watching my boy so helpless.

    His big sister brushing her hand across his head, telling him not to put a ball in his mouth. The tears finally started to fall, whilst I bite down on a piece of toast, it’s real. This has really happened to me and my family.

    Before daddy went home he perked up just enough to point to a family photo on the phone and name everyone in the photo. Wow those words daddy, mummy, Darcey, toby and bear. The best words in the world.

    During the night we managed to remove the oxygen and finally Toby managed to breath on his own, no longer laboured but his chest doing what it needs to do.

    After that He slept and he slept, Being checked through the night by the wonderful nurses. That bloody temperature I just wanted it to be back to normal. Finally the sun came up and I was wide awake. Watching my little boy sleep. That temperate checked yet another time, and my prayers finally answered, finally the number 36. Yes Toby you little fighter you body is working as it should. He began talking and he got off the bed looked outside and wanted to go play. The consultant came around this morning and told me how utterly lucky my little boy was. The speedy actions of myself, rich, Campbell and my dad making that call, the paramedics saved my boys life. SAVED MY BOYS LIFE, words are used loosely but my god this time a truer word cannot be spoken. I am the mother of 2 wonderful healthy children x I am blessed and so thankful I cannot express it enough”

    Full credit to: Carrie Owen

    “>[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4uS5EmpeEs&w=560&h=315]

  • I Gave Birth To 3 Children But I Gave Them All Away

    I Gave Birth To 3 Children But I Gave Them All Away , you may be thinking what an awful person I am but you are wrong.

    My name is Penny Divine and I’m a mum of six children, three of which live with me and call me mummy and three who I am biological related to but call another woman mum.

    After I had my 3rd child I realised just how special it is, the moment you look into your babies eyes, sniff their little heads and hug this bundle of joy for the first time and the pride you feel when you take them home.

    Whilst holding my tiny 7 pound baby laid in the hospital bed I imagined how hard it was for woman who would never get to experience this, who would never know this unbreakable love.

    Once my baby had reached her 1st birthday I sat my husband down and said I want another baby but I don’t want to keep it, I want to gift it to a woman who cannot have her own child.

    My husband was amazingly supportive but said as long as its artificial insemination and not sex he was okay with it (he is a joker but the most wonderful man).

    I saw my Gp and was referred to a specialist clinic, I had a psychological evaluation, medical checks and had to sign multiple disclaimers saying that I could not have any financial gain from it etc etc, I wouldn’t accept any money any way.

    Six months later I met a wonderful couple Julie and Philip who had tried with IVF for years but Julie was not producing eggs.

    My husband was the one to inseminate me with Philips sperm and would you believe it I was pregnant on the first try, the pregnancy was pretty smooth other than the urge to eat sponges.

    When I delivered their little boy I was nervous handing him over but the smiles and joyful tears that Julie and Philip had was the most magical feeling, I can’t express how happy I felt in that moment, knowing I had just given them the greatest gift.

    I went on to help two more couples and still keep in contact with all of them and i am often referred to as auntie, being a surrogate is not for everyone but for me it is like I am giving them a gift from god and I plan on doing it again next year.

  • Stop Naming Your Kids Stupid Made Up Names

    I want to rant, no I need to rant this new stupid trend of naming your children ridulicious made up names is getting out of hands wrong with nice normal names like John, Simon, Amy, or Sophie.

    Neveah has got to be one of the worst names I have ever heard for those that don’t know it is heaven spelt backwards, just hearing it makes me want to vomit, and i’m not alone all over social media I see people hating on this name.

    Made up names are the worst, Brayli, Bleu-Rose, sinamon (yes spelt like that) double-barreled names just sound like stripper names or common as muck people, I would not employ someone called Millie-May, Lilly-Anna, Bobbie-joe etc, what is this trend of adding “Mae, May, Bleu, Rose at the end of a name?

    Parents they may in your opinion sound like cute names when your off spring is a baby but what happens when they become an adult, now a Peter or a Sarah has a chance to have a successful life but Blessing, Stormi, Honey Suckle, C-Kritz, Malia, Porsche, precious, Princess, Pluto, London, Bleuboy and Stokelee are clearly destined to play the guitar badly outside your local Aldi’s or to dance on poles, now may be I’m being to judgey but as an employer for a large company when I look at an application for a job interview, I put the ones with ridiculous names in the bin.

    How can My company be successful with Armani-Mae at the front desk, it’s embarrassing it sounds childish and very unprofessional.

    Now I’m not saying all old style names are great, Keith, Martha, Trevor and Maureen need never to be heard again.

    I await the who am I to judge comments, but lets face it we all judge people by their name, Richard you could imagine being a Doctor and Armani-Bleu dancing on a pole or starring in adult films.

    Wake up parents stop chavving up your kids and name something normal!!!

     

    Sent in via email, sender wishes to remain anonymous

  • Was My Baby Stolen Help Me Find Out

    Help me find out if my baby was stolen at birth in Spain

    I was told my first baby had died shortly after her birth in 1992 when I lived in Spain.  I can’t describe the pain I felt and until February 2012 I lived thinking my daughter had died. But a Spanish friend came to visit in the UK and told me about a scandal that had broken in Spain where up to 300,000 babies had been stolen in Spain and sold for adoption across the world between the 1950’s to the late 1990’s.

    It hit me that my daughter could have been one of those stolen babies and I have been battling for an effective investigation ever since. My case has been through the Spanish justice system, to no avail.

    That’s why I’m calling on the UK Home Secretary to push my case further. Both me and my daughter are British – it is their job to support us as they have with other families who’ve had loved ones missing.

    When my daughter’s remains were exhumed to bring them back to the UK, the skeleton I saw appeared to be that of a much older infant.

    One way that could help is providing £5000 that is needed to have a DNA test on the ashes that I believed were my daughter’s. This could help me take forward the case for a fuller investigation.

    I received a letter from Theresa May when she was Home Secretary, in which she told me she was sorry to read about my sad story, but could not help. I know that more can be done – if they knew the pain of not knowing what happened to your lost child, I’m sure they would take action.

    My hopes are to find the truth. And I hope my story will help others that may have been affected by this too.

    Please sign this petition to secure a true investigation to find out what happened to my baby.

    Thank you for your support,

    —-

    Please help me to raise the money needed here: https://www.justgiving.com/crowdfunding/ruth-appleby-1

  • Today It Happened He Asked To Try For Another Baby

    Today it happened.

    My fiancée brought up getting pregnant again. I knew it would happen.

    He said “I want to see if we can have a normal pregnancy you know. Have a baby come home two days later and you actually get to breastfeed.”

    I told him I never want to be pregnant again and if we really want another child we can adopt, I cannot be pregnant again, I mean biologically I can but Mentally I cannot do it.

    I really would like to get pregnant and have an easy pregnancy but I’m too scared to. I delivered my twins at beautiful twins at 25 weeks and 4 days, my baby girl passed away, and Max my baby boy spent 140 days in the NICU before he could come home, every day I sat by him, praying he would survive and was so happy he was still with me but at the same time mourning the loss of my little girl and organising her burial all whilst my son held on to his life and was fighting for every breath . I CANNOT DO IT AGAIN.

    My partner has suggested I have therapy and thinks that I might have PTSD, how can I be pregnant again, what if it happens again I don’t think I have the strength to fight my emotions again, to see my baby struggle, to loss another baby, yes i may go on to have a “normal” pregnancy and birth but I do not want to take that risk I AM NOT STRONG ENOUGH!!!

    How do I make my partner understand that I am weak but at the same time I am just happy to be a mum to one, or am I ill, should I get over my traumatic time and bite the bullet and try for another child?

  • When Your Baby Makes An Early Arrival

    This is one of the only photos that I have where I look pregnant.

    This was ten days before our sweet boy decided to join us, fourteen weeks before he was supposed to.

    If I could go back in time, I would tell myself to push harder the first time the doctors ignored my concerns. I would tell myself that everything would be okay, and that I would make it through.

    But nothing, not even the advice that I would give the old me, can prepare you for the NICU. Everyone’s journey here is SO different, there’s absolutely no way that anyone can tell you what to expect.

    When I see the new moms get wheeled up here for the first time, my heart breaks for them. I want to just hug them, and tell them that I know exactly how they feel. Their birth plan had gone out the window, their “perfect labour” didn’t exist. Their brains are still foggy from the medication, and their baby… the only thing on their mind… that sweet baby… is in the best hands.

    I remember the surgeons telling me that I would be out of the OR ten minutes after Jameson left. I laid on the table, arms stretched out, for what felt like years. Come to find out, it ended up being a little over an hour. I sat in recovery until I could move my toes, and I concentrated SO hard, I knew that I had to have had enough muscle memory to move a stinkin’ toe! They let me go early, because I wouldn’t leave them alone about it. They let me see our miracle baby for 25 minutes before I was wheeled back to my room, to wait until I could stand. The nurse walked in a few hours later and asked “do you think you’re ready?” I immediately stood up, and blood went EVERYWHERE. “Woah, you weren’t supposed to stand up yet!” But off to see my boy, I went.

    I understand, Mama. All that is important is that sweet baby. The pain killers, uterus massages, pumping, it can wait.

    When Jameson was just a few weeks old, the doctors had “the talk” with us. If you’re a micro-preemie parent, I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about. That heart-sinking moment when medical professionals come to tell you that your child may not make it. The choices that you are forced to make are unimaginable, and they will eat you alive, regardless of what that choice was.

    We have signed consent forms, giving strangers permission to operate on our son. We’ve seen him cry (we haven’t heard him, yet), we’ve watched him get poked, you name it.

    I’ve watched syringes of strangers blood get pumped into our son to keep him alive.

    I’ve seen 10+ nurses running as fast as they can to our baby’s bedside to give his little two-pound body compressions, and stimulate him to keep him responsive while they put a tube back down his throat.

    I slept on pull-out chair for weeks, and ran off of bags of chips and coffee.

    I’ve cried, boy have I cried, and I’ve let my ugly out on a lot of people who didn’t deserve it.

    But, I’ve also had months to celebrate the small things.

    I won’t ever be upset when Jameson pees on me, because that means his urinary system is finally deciding to function properly.

    I’m not mad when I smell like puke, because he’s finally off of TPN fluids.

    I got to kiss my boy at three days old.

    I got to dress him once he was a few months.

    We got to give him his first “big boy bath” at six, and Gigi and Grandpa Greg finally got to hold him at five.

    These are things that are taken for granted, that I will never ever let go unnoticed.

    The point of this post is to tell you this: Although our journey has been long, and it has been filled with a lot of ups and downs, we are not the only ones. Please, please be considerate when you’re talking to moms with special babies. They are miracles, regardless of their needs. I know that sometimes it’s not “normal”, and if you have questions, ask! Please be patient with us and our crazy rules, and our last-minute cancellations. But, please don’t be ugly to us Mama’s who have fought so hard for our babies. They are loved more than you can imagine.🖤

    Full credit goes to Keeghan Haight

  • I Am In Hell Because It Is Not My Baby

    Sitting in the labour and delivery room at the hospital with my sister. My mum, who is also pregnant, just showed up. I’m smiling, and carrying on conversations, but inside? I am in hell.

    I guess I’m a very selfish and mean person because I don’t think it’s fair. I don’t think it’s fair that I was the one who was actively trying to get pregnant, but instead God not only blessed one of my family members, but two with the gift that I had been praying for, for YEARS.

    I hate feeling this way. I am beyond happy for them, but at the same time I’m over here struggling to keep my composure and not burst into tears. It’s not fair that I’m the one who has to go through this pain. It’s not fair that each month I take dose after dose of medication and pray so fervently that God will bless me with a child.

    I changed my eating habits, I changed my lifestyle. This was supposed to be my moment, or like my moment, where everyone shows up to the hospital because they’re excited for the new baby. But it’s not. It’s not my baby, it’s not my moment, and I won’t even pretend to understand why I’m in this situation. I don’t see in just black and white anymore. I look around and I wonder just how many women are in my shoes.

    How many women go through the channels on tv and see a newborn baby on one of those nappy commercials, and you just feel your heart tear into pieces inside your chest. You can’t walk down the baby aisles because you know that if you buy it and it doesn’t happen yet again, you’ll be left looking at that item knowing that it’s still just an item and not YOUR baby’s. How many women have cried themselves to sleep at night because all they want is to start a family? I’m so happy, but I’m not.

    Here I am, listening to them talk and joke around, but I feel like the joke is on me and sometimes I wonder if God is listening to me. Please tell me i’m not alone.

  • Not Every Doctor Is Right They Don’t Know Everything

    This is my daughter Amelia, she was born at North Staffordshire hospital at 3.30pm on 23/9/2017 Saturday evening I was induced due to excessive fluid and spd.i had a horrible pregnancy when I gave birth to Amelia she was purple and could not swallow she was foaming from the mouth the midwives convinced me she had a strider to which I knew it was more as I’d previously had 2 children before.

    The midwife then left me and Amelia’s father alone for 1h45 minutes I rang the emergency buzzer as she was getting dramatically worse in her health, an intensive care pediatric consultant came for Amelia and rushed her to nicu where they went on to putting tubes down her nose, at this point the only way Amelia could get rid of her secretions was to be lay flat on her belly otherwise she would choke.

    At 10.45pm Amelia had further test done with the tube they tried to suck air out of her belly to which had no success they had no idea why this was happening so they ordered a scan, after the scan we were told Amelia was unable to swallow and that she could have a few different defects and that her life was 50/50, they couldn’t tell us for sure what it was she had and they didn’t know what to do or how to treat it as they had never seen this condition before, I never left amelias side in the nicu all that night they left amelia on her belly all that time with no proper Amelia’s care or diagnosis.

    At 1am a doctor came to me to tell me Amelia would either be moved to alder hey or Birmingham to get a diagnosis and fix the problem yes they called her a problem 😡 at this stage me and her father had no idea what to do we were both distraught 😩, a private ambulance came from Birmingham at 3am to collect Amelia and straight away knew what she had they were absolutely disgusted with how they had cared for her, they attached suction tubes in her mouth and oxygen down her nose, when arriving at Birmingham we were met by three surgical consultants who I must admit were lovely they explained everything in such detail they also noted that Amelia’s condition should have been picked up on my anti natal scan and I shouldn’t have had Amelia by natural birth and this could have killed her I should have had a planned birth with them.

    At 10am Sunday morning aged 10 hours Amelia went down to have a major operation at this stage we know she has tracheo-oesophageal fistula/ distal esophageal atresia, when Amelia came out of her operation 8 hours later it was a huge success she spent 3 days in intensive care.

    While in intensive care Amelia would not wake up this was due to the amount of pain killers and sedation she was on, one doctor of the intensive care ward ordered Amelia to come off all drugs and sedation and to replace these with paracetamol, the surgeon also ordered Amelia to be weaned of the ventilation within 24 hours otherwise she would become dependent.

    When they put Amelia on c-cap she sat very low on all oxygen levels and heart rate they said this was due to the 3 days Amelia was on the ventilation that it causes respiratory distress and can also cause bacterial pneumonia so she was on very strong antibiotics the whole time we spent in the hospital.

    Moral of the story not every doctor is right not every doctor can say what they have, we don’t have enough medically trained specialists, every child deserves a chance and If it wasn’t for Birmingham Amelia certainly would not be here now.

    Credit Abbie Richardson