Tag: Mum
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I Personally Think I’m A Perfect Mother
I personally think I’m a perfect mother. Why do I think that? Because my child is happy, fed, watered and healthy. The mum who lives across the road, her kids are also healthy happy fed and watered. So she’s a perfect mother.
I can’t stand pierced ears on babies as to me it’s cruel. And yes secretly I’d be a bit judgy but I would not go out of my way to push my views on people. But I also don’t like kids with great big bows on their head, kids in track suits or little girls in totally inappropriate clothes (hot pants and cropped tops). But would I force my opinion? No!!! Cos it’s none of my fucking business how others raise their children!
My son has a happy meal now and then. He loves watching tv. He wears the same pjs for more than one night if they are perfectly clean still. He also has on more than one occasion heard me swear and runs around copying for example yesterday I hit my head and said oh cock. He ran around saying cock cock cock. (We managed to pass it off as clockđ) But he also loves walking for miles through the countryside, loves trying new foods, is so polite when meeting new people. So I don’t think I’m doing a bad job.
And when the judgy mcjudgeface fuckers come along and tell you that you’re a shit parent it’s almost enough to make yourself doubt those snotty kisses, the times where only a hug from mummy will do, and all those giggles over fart noises. But no, I am a perfect mother to MY SON. And if others don’t like how I parent, then quite frankly my dear, I DONT GIVE A DAMN!!
Original Source is unknown
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My Life As A Young Carer- I Still Cry At Night
Soo, sit back and grab your coffee cause this is a quite long story.
My mum was 35 when she had me, who ended up with mental health issues. My sister cared for me, did the night feeds, helped my mum and took me out almost every day there is 14 years between us. As they ( my sisters) got older the caring got more intense. Trying to look after me while my mum was accusing them over every little thing. From trying to kill her to moving stuff to mess with her head.
My sister letâs call her Callie who was 14 years older than me and my other sister letâs call her Ellen whoâs 10 years older than me, had her own child at 19 and ended up moving out because of my mums mental illness, my Ellen lived with her dad. From 6 years old I watched my mum smash her house up every weekend, hear she was going to kill her self, that people were trying to kill her, kill us.
From 6 years old I began to look after my mum. Not being able to go out, not being able to leave her side and being scared every single day and night because all I ever heard was that people were trying to harm us. She would stop her meds every time she thought she was better. I also got told that I got left with her while she over dosed.
Bad went to worse. We moved house because of her thinking people were trying to kill her… then what was about to happen next changed our lives. Someone ( who I canât name) tried to petrol bomb us at just 10 years old I woke up screaming because I thought I was going to die.
Every night I couldnât sleep because I had to make sure my mum was ok, sit at the bottom of the bed so she could nap, not leave the house, not go to school, not leave her side. Help her cook and clean. We eventually got out after she had a âbreak downâ as she was admitted to a hospital. For almost a year I didnât live with my mum.
I went from seeing her every day to thinking she didnât want me. When she eventually got out, we lived in a flat. Still depressed she would sleep all day so Iâd have to clean my own clothes, try make meals ect. Then I slowly started going off the rails… drinking almost every night, drugs. I was 14 screaming for someone to care someone to listen. But no one did.
At the age of 15 I would be drinking so excessively I would be brought home by the police, going through liter bottles of vodka. Then I met my boyfriend, who then I fell pregnant to, at 16. the As I settled down my mums mental health got worse again, blaming my bf for everything that he was trying to kill her. I then had my son.
Yet again bad went to worse. My son was 2 weeks over due. Struggled at birth. Went home the next day, something wasnât right this wasnât the baby I had last night… he was just different.
Rang an ambulance and it was almost as if I was getting made a mockery of, no one listened NO ONE. 6 days later after getting called over panicky mum and my mum not wanting to leave me alone with my own child because she thought I couldnât cope. A midwife that dealt with teenagers came out. I told her how I was feeling. She checked my gorgeous boy and rushed us to icu.
Our son had pneumonia and because it had been left for so long they didnât know if heâd live cause his lungs were so weak. At 16 I thought my son was going to die. My life was ending. After getting admitted another 2 times after leaving icu for people not listening again. We almost lost him in total of 3 times.
After countless visits to hospital and him being on oxygen for 8 months our baby boy became strong again, while all this was going on we were still getting accused of things, accused of taking my mums meds to mess with her head, trying to kill her. Until one day she tried to act the way she would when I was little. That day I went to leave, she rang the police after trying to beat up my bf and threatened to take my son.
For months she drummed into my head that my bf and his family were going to take my son away. We finally got our own house and left after she tried to start again. She has schizophrenia. Now because of this, I have a mental illness. Iâve got a personality disorder. My son is 3 and Iâm now 20, Iâm still with my boyfriend. But now I suffer every day with the thought of loosing my son.
That is always there in the back of my mind. I still cry most nights because of the thought of it. I go to play group and explain every single bruise. But guess what Iâve made it. Iâm in a healthy environment now trying to pursue a dress making career. My mum is still poorly but I took a step back after my sister suddenly passed away a year ago. Life does get easier I promise. âRemember everything will be ok in the end and if itâs not ok, itâs not the end.
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Breast Feeding It Is Hard- It Really Is
“Ok, I’m going to say it for us all. Breastfeeding is hard. It’s really, really hard. Sometimes I can’t even explain what makes it so difficult. The uncertainty, second guessing, responsibility, commitment, discomfort…just to name a few. We trusted our bodies to grow our babies for 9 months and now we have to trust our body to supply the nourishment for our babes growth & development. Talk about pressuređł Breastfeeding is full of unanswered questions. You truly don’t know what’s going on down there. Too much? Too little? Too intense? Not enough hindmilk? Not enough time? Plugged duct? Mastitis? WTF!!!
As if it wasn’t hard enoughđAnd of course the biggest way to know if you’re doing well is if the baby is gaining weight…great, let me just whip out my handy dandy baby scaleđ..But, even with all of that. We all so desperately want to survive and push through. We so badly want to have our baby thrive. We want that relationship. We want the experience. In the end, fed is best. That’s what matters. But all I know right now is that breastfeeding is hard. I am doing my very best but always have a question in the back of my mind. Always second guessing myself. Always wondering if I’m doing OKAY. I’m determined to tough it out. I want to do this. Mamas really do need all the support they can get. So mama, you’re hearing it from me, you’re not going crazy, it is hard, but you’re doing good. Keep going!! There’s a rumor going around that it gets easierđ”
Full Credit: https://www.instagram.com/thenashvillebump/
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To The Mums Who Judge Any Of These Things
“To the mum who’s breastfeeding: Way to go! It really is an amazing gift to give your baby, for any amount of time that you can manage! You’re a good mum.
To the mum who’s formula feeding: Isn’t science amazing? To think there was a time when a baby with a mother who couldn’t produce enough would suffer, but now? Better living through chemistry! You’re a good mum.
To the cloth bum mum: Fluffy bums are the cutest, and so friendly on the bank account. You’re a good mum.
To the disposable nappy mum: Wow those things hold a lot, and it’s excellent to not worry about leakage and laundry! You’re a good mum.
To the mum who stays home: I can imagine it isn’t easy doing what you do, but to spend those precious years with your babies must be amazing. You’re a good mum.
To the mum who works: It’s wonderful that you’re sticking to your career, you’re a positive role model for your children in so many ways, it’s fantastic. You’re a good mum.
To the mum who had to feed her kids from the drive thru all week because you’re too worn out to cook or go grocery shopping: You’re feeding your kids, and hey, I bet they aren’t complaining! Sometimes sanity can indeed be found in a white bag with a big red chick on it. You’re a good mum.
To the mum who gave her kids a homecooked breakfast lunch and dinner for the past week: Excellent! Good nutrition is important, and they’re learning to enjoy healthy foods at an early age, a boon for the rest of their lives. You’re a good mum.
To the mum with the kids who are sitting quietly and using their manners in the fancy restaurant: Kudos, it takes a lot to maintain order with children in a place where they can’t run around. You’re a good mum.
To the mum with the toddler having a meltdown in the cereal aisle: they always seem to pick the most embarrassing places to lose their minds don’t they? We’ve all been through it. You’re a good mum.
To the mums who judge other mums for ANY of the above?
Glass houses, friend. Glass houses.”
Source: Unknown
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I Should Of Stopped At One Child- I Wish I Could Turn Back Time
I Should Of Stopped At One Child
I am 33 years old and a mum to four children Sean 11, Saul, 8, Poppy May 6 and Lily Rae 3 I do not enjoy being a mum at all, I mean I used to.
When it was just Sean and I it was easy I enjoyed watching him grow, tucking him in and giving him my undivided attention and being his mummy but that all changed when Saul came along.
With each child I loath being a mother more and more, I feel all I do is yell at them and my husband, I’m forever tired and there is no enjoyment in raising four children, I am not me anymore, I have changed into a person I do not like.
Don’t get my wrong I love them all and would never see any harm come to them but if I could turn back time I would not have any children after Sean, I don’t know why i thought having more children was a good idea, I was perfect the way it was.
I used to be a fantastic, loving mother and now I dread the children waking up, the moans, the arguing and the constant want, want, want, the tears, the tantrums, the fact that they can’t be in the same room together without a fight or someone crying.
Poor Sean is often left out as the younger children are so needy and crave so much attention from me, I feel we have lost our bond, he is like a stranger in my house, I try to include him and make time for him but it is never enough.
I wish someone had told me how guilty I would feel with having so many children and how no matter how hard I try I can never give everyone equal love and attention.
I am burnt out, I am fed up and I truly wish I’d only had my eldest son, please don’t think badly of me I cannot help how I feel, I hope as they get older it will get easier but for now i guess I have to suck it up and continue with this life
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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.
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I am you. I see you. I am with you, I cry with you
For the woman whose husband makes an “extra stop” after work every evening.
For the woman who is mourning the loss of a pregnancy that nobody else knew about.
For the woman who still leads from the front even although sheâs lost inside.
For the woman who was fired for her fourth late because she has been awake for a straight week with a sick child.
For the single mom who doesn’t know how the utilities are going to stay on this month.
For the woman who has gone through 2 IVF’s and has tried for five years without success but still shows up to every baby shower for her friends.
For the woman who still hasn’t forgiven herself for the abortion that she had 20 years ago.
For the woman who has a line of judging eyes at her and her children as she counts out coins or has to put something back at the supermarket.
For the woman who opens the door to the news of her husband being killed overseas three weeks before he was to return home.
For the woman who lives with a quiet anxiety because nobody understands what you could possibly be stressed about.
For the woman who gives to her family all day- everyday and just.needs.a.break.
For the woman that smiles at strangers all day in public- but weeps silently every night.
For the woman who has wanted to end it all but found strength to carry on.
For the woman that heard the rumor about herself at church today.
For the woman sleeping next to a stranger every night.
For the woman whose genetics will never allow her to look like the ones in the magazines.
For the woman that endures one broken relationship after another because there was no father around to teach her what love looks like.
For the woman raising a fatherless daughter and praying that history doesn’t repeat itself.
For the woman who loves with all her heart whoâs desperate to be loved.
For every single woman that cries in the shower so that nobody else can see. Because if you aren’t strong-nobody is.
Just because the water washes your tears doesn’t mean that you don’t cry. Just because you cry doesnât mean that youâre not strong enough to handle it.
I am you. I see you. I am with you, I cry with you. I love you.
#womenempoweringwomen #femalesolidarity
Full credit goes to the amazing Sarah Ponton
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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 âI 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.â
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 Iâm 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?
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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. Everyoneâs journey here is SO different, thereâs 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 âperfect labourâ didnât 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 stinkinâ toe! They let me go early, because I wouldnât 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 âdo you think youâre ready?â I immediately stood up, and blood went EVERYWHERE. âWoah, you werenât supposed to stand up yet!â 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 âthe talkâ with us. If youâre a micro-preemie parent, Iâm sure you know exactly what Iâm 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. Weâve seen him cry (we havenât heard him, yet), weâve watched him get poked, you name it.
Iâve watched syringes of strangers blood get pumped into our son to keep him alive.
Iâve seen 10+ nurses running as fast as they can to our babyâs 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.
Iâve cried, boy have I cried, and Iâve let my ugly out on a lot of people who didnât deserve it.
But, Iâve also had months to celebrate the small things.
I wonât ever be upset when Jameson pees on me, because that means his urinary system is finally deciding to function properly.
Iâm not mad when I smell like puke, because heâs 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 âbig boy bathâ 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 youâre talking to moms with special babies. They are miracles, regardless of their needs. I know that sometimes itâs not ânormalâ, and if you have questions, ask! Please be patient with us and our crazy rules, and our last-minute cancellations. But, please donât be ugly to us Mamaâs who have fought so hard for our babies. They are loved more than you can imagine.đ€
Full credit goes to Keeghan Haight