The moment I finally realised I was infertile

Walking into the fertility clinic part of the hospital I was still in denial. There wasn't anything wrong with me. This was just a follow-up by an overzealous dr. Sure we'd been trying to have a baby for over two years at this point, but it wasn't because I was infertile. It had to be something else. Timing, stress... anything. Anything but infertility. Something else I could fix, or change, or eliminate in order to solve the problem, but infertility I couldn't.

Sitting in the waiting room hallway I looked up and down at all the couples lined up against the wall waiting to see the drs and find out their fate. It was like a game of bingo sitting there eagerly waiting for our names to be called out. Each time a door opened and a name was read out a wave of excitement, then disappointment, washed over me.

My mind kept wandering back to the moment at highschool when we had the dreaded sex ed talk. They drummed home the "if you have unprotected sex you will get pregnant" message over and over. Well here I was sitting in a waiting room calling bullshit on that theory. I wanted nothing more than to get pregnant by having unprotected sex. In fact I was actively trying to do it. I felt like I'd been lied to all those years prior.

Its ok though there was still a shred of hope. I'd been taking clomid and I was sure this month was going to be it. This was the miracle I needed. I would go into that room and do a pregnancy test and it would be all good. I would be pregnant. I ignored that tiny flicker of doubt in the back of my mind and tried to reassure myself that this was it.

Finally we got called into the office. I was so eager to tell the dr that I thought I was pregnant. I was practically begging for a pregnancy test. He sent me off to do the test and I envisaged watching the line appear and the huge smile that would come across my face as I saw it. In reality I was told I had to give a sample and then a nurse had to come and collect it and conduct the pregnancy test in the lab. I don't know why I wasn't allowed to do my own test, god knows I was an expert at pregnancy tests by then. It didn't phase me too much though, it just meant I got to live in false hope for a bit longer.

Eventually the test results were in and I wasn't pregnant. It was amazing how nonchalant the dr was delivering the result. It was such a huge emotional blow for me and it was just another test result to him. Its interesting how something that can have such a devastating impact on my life was relatively meaningless to another. After that he went on to explain that we'd gone through all the options we could via the hospital clinic. If we wanted to continue with treatment we'd have to go onto IVF with a private clinic.

And there it was. There was no longer any doubt. I was most definitely infertile. I'd been denying it for so long, but when you hear the words your only option from here is IVF, it kind of smacks you square in the face.

I left that appointment feeling completely deflated. It didn't help that the clinic was right next to the maternity ward so I had to walk past all the pregnant women and their burgeoning bellies on the way out. For the last few weeks I'd looked at them with anticipation assuming I'd soon be joining them. This time I walked out resenting them. I resented that they had what I didn't and might never have. I didn't know them, but I couldn't help feeling like they'd betrayed me by flaunting their pregnant bellies around in public where I could see them. In reality they were just going about their business attending prenatal appointments and I was just being bitter and twisted and redirecting my disappointment into anger.

Infertility has a way of doing that to a person. You become somewhat irrational. Its hard to not become bitter. Suddenly every pregnant woman is having a child just to rub it in your face that they can, at least thats what you think at the time. Infertility is like having a monkey on your back. It's all consuming. Its deflating. Its depressing. But, like other obstacles in life it can be overcome (in some circumstances).

Three and a bit years, a divorce, a new partner and more fertility treatment on from that moment I became a mum. It wasn't without its dramas and a complicated pregnancy, but we got there and that's all that matters. Hopefully we'll be able to do it again in the future.

Leaving my narcissistic husband changed my life

This post has been floating around in the back of my head begging to be written for a while now. When Kirsty came up with the prompt the biggest chance you've taken I knew it was time to finally get it out. I'm just hoping it makes sense now that I'm writing it because its a jumbled mess in my head.

When I decided to leave my ex-husband I really had no idea how much of a monument-us decision it was. Something just clicked in my head and I decided to do it. From that moment there was no going back, no second guessing, nothing. Once I decided to leave I couldn't go back. I couldn't imagine being with him for a minute longer. I'd had enough. Its like a light suddenly came on in my head and I could see clearly through all the bullshit and finally I realised I didn't have to live that way any more.

To set the scene for those who aren't familiar with my original blog posts, my ex-husband was the quintessential (abusive) narcissist*. I just had no idea at the time. He started out all charming. He was super attentive and affectionate which I loved at first. Having been single for a few years before meeting him, I was relishing the fact that someone loved me so much  that he wanted to spend all his time with me. I saw it as adoration in the beginning, but what I didn't see was that he was actually doing it so that I was spending all my time with him. So he always knew where I was, who I was with and what I was doing.

At first it was subtle, but it became more and more obvious as time went on. He slowly isolated me from my friends so that everything in my life was about him. He started out by not letting me go out with my friends without him. Then it went to not being allowed to go anywhere without him, even my mums house. Then we were only allowed to have friends who were married, because married people understand what its like to be married??? So eventually the majority of my friends dropped off and stopped bothering to invite me anywhere because they knew I wouldn't go anyway. I only had a handful of friends who stuck around and they were mainly people I worked with who knew the situation at home.

Soon he progressed to taking my car to work on my days off so he knew I couldn't go out when he wasn't there. On one of those days he actually had a car accident and totalled my car. Incidentally on that day mum had picked me up to discuss solicitors and how I could get out of the relationship. But, when I came home to find out my car was totalled my self confidence was shattered. My car was the only thing that was mine, just mine, and it was gone. All plans of leaving were destroyed along with my car.

So I stayed and endured a few more years. Years of being told how useless I was. How much my own family couldn't stand me. How he was the only one who truly loved me. How if I ever left him I'd never find anyone else who'd love me like he did.... etc etc. The constant taunting and verbal abuse cut so deep that eventually I became numb to it all.

Sometimes while you're going through a situation you can't quite comprehend just how big a deal it is or the effect it will have on life going forward. Sometimes, you're so invested in it that all you can do is keep going in order to survive. Its easier to keep facing what you know instead of facing the unknown. It was definitely a case of better the devil you know. He had eroded away all my self esteem and self confidence, I was emotionally crippled and couldn't imagine facing the world on my own.

Until one day it all changed.

I got to my breaking point and I'd had enough. It didn't matter what the future would be like. It didn't matter if I never found anyone else and if I was on my own for the rest of my life, because being on my own would be a thousand times better than being with him. The light bulb moment was when I found out he'd been cheating on me while we were in the midst of an infertility battle trying to conceive a child. When confronted he told me it was all my fault (amongst a whole heap of other bullshit stuff). At that point I just laughed. It was so clear to me how much an ass@*#! he was. The first thing I thought was "what if I have a daughter and she sees him treat me like this and thinks its ok".

That thought was enough to make me decide to leave. It was so over. I'd put up with a lot, but there was no way I was going to put a child through that reality. And so I decided to leave. I didn't care about the consequences, I didn't care about what might happen after. I didn't have any idea of the huge battle that lay ahead of me in order to do so, but even if I had, I still would've done it.

Its only now years later that I've really grasped what a huge chance I took. I've been seeing a psychologist for my PND and when we were talking about my general history he came up. I didn't go into detail, just a brief overview of how controlling he was and that I left. Without hesitation the first thing my psychologist said was "you're so lucky you got away from him because he's the type of person that ends up killing his wife". It kind of hit me in that moment what a huge step I'd taken. It also made me realise how incredibly grateful I was that I had done it and how lucky I was that it didn't go badly. All the statistics point to the fact that women in abusive relationships are most at risk when they're leaving the relationship. Put that together with the fact that it nearly sent me bankrupt and I could've ended up forgoing children because of it...and yea... it makes me realise just how huge it was.

Its without a doubt the biggest chance I've ever taken in my entire life and its had the biggest pay-off. While I went through months and months of emotional and financial hardship afterwards, because he was still trying to control me, I did come out the other side. And the other-side is wonderful. Life without him is nothing like he said it would be (surprise, surprise). It's liberating. It's freedom. I finally have my life back and for the first time in years the future can be whatever I want it to be.

If I never took that chance I wouldn't have the life I have today. I wouldn't have this blog. I wouldn't have fallen in love and wouldn't have my daughter. Sometimes taking a chance is the best thing you can do.

Toni x


*Characteristics of a narcissist

• Has an exaggerated sense of self importance
• Is pre-occupied with power
• Requires excessive and continuous admiration
• Has a strong sense of entitlement
• Has to be the centre of attention
• Believes that they are special (more important than others)
• Exploits others for their own gains
• Lacks empathy for others
• Is arrogant in behaviours or attitude

I'm glad I got postnatal depression

It may sound like a weird statement to make, but I am actually glad I got postnatal depression. Don't get me wrong the experience at the time was horrible and confusing, but with hindsight I can see the many benefits it brought into my life. Most of which may never have happened if I didn't have PND.

The fact that I was depressed motivated me to contact the government child health nurses. I most likely never would've called them if I hadn't felt like I wasn't coping. They have been amazing, one nurse in particular. The first nurse who came to visit me has been an invaluable and ongoing source of support for me. She organised home visits which helped with my anxiety and was also much more convenient given I was recovering from an emergency c-section. She was also the one who recommended I seek help at the hospital which was scary at the time, but lead to some pretty welcome changes in my life.

At the hospital I was diagnosed with PND and set up with the help I needed to feel better again. I wasn't the only one that received help though. It was at the hospital that doctors finally started to listen to me about bubs not being right. My mothers instinct told me that the constant screaming, reflux, rashes and unsettledness wasn't normal. Before the hospital gp's had dismissed my concerns saying it was normal for babies to get rashes, vomit and cry. The hospital stay meant that paediatricians could witness her symptoms over a period of consecutive days and finally they agreed with me that it wasn't normal. Thanks to that hospital stay my daughter was finally diagnosed with her cows milk protein allergy and we were able to make changes that put us on the road to a much healthier, happier and content baby. For that I will be forever grateful. I shudder to think where we would be if we never received their help.

Another benefit is that my diagnosis in a way forced mum and I to be a lot closer than before. When bub first came along I didn't have much day to day support except T. When he went back to work I crumbled. After I came out of hospital mum came to stay with us to help out for a week. It was nice to have her around and spend so much time together. She got to forge a really strong bond with bub and we also got to grow our connection. She now makes it a priority to see us each week or fortnight. We go shopping together, go to lunches and catch up with other family. Its nice to feel like I'm involved in her life, and moreso that she wants to involve me. I feel like I've finally got the mum I always longed for.

Source: Pinterest

Most of all having PND has made me realise just how strong I am and how much I love my daughter. Looking back now to how low I was at the time, I can really see how far I've come. I'm proud of the fact that I was strong enough to ask for help and work through my fears. I'm proud that I loved my daughter so much that I wanted to get better, even though at the time it would've felt easier to give up. In a way I'm proud of the fact that I got PND and was able to come out the other side and have the happy, healthy and incredibly loving relationship I have with my daughter today.

Toni x

If you feel you need help these numbers may be useful:

Community Child Health (QLD) 1300 366 039

Beyond Blue 1300 224 636

P.A.N.D.A. 1300 726 306

The way we talk to our children becomes their inner voice

The campaign to ban the word "bossy" being said to young girls seems to have been going viral in the media in the past few days. I don't really have a stance one way or the other about the word bossy in particular, but I do like the intention behind the campaign. I'm very conscious of the way I speak to my daughter even though shes only 7 months old. I know how much the words you hear from your parents and immediate family can affect your inner voice. Unfortunately I can only really remember the negative things I was told. They've been on repeat in my head since a young age and they affected my sense of self worth greatly.

Being told I was the most selfish bitch they'd ever met by a family member wasn't the greatest self esteem builder. It doesn't help that I also had my grandmother always apologising to other people for my behaviour (when I wasn't even doing anything wrong). When we went to NZ on a holiday tour my grandmother was always apologising to the rest of the tour group for me and my brother because we were the only kids on the tour. We were 14 and 11 and nobody had a problem with us as we weren't doing anything wrong. All I can put it down to is she thought we'd ruined everyone else's holiday by being there because she assumed they wouldn't want children on their holiday. That, or she was just plain embarrassed to be on holidays with us. She still to this day apologises to people for me even being present at certain places. Even as an adult I can't help but get disheartened when she does that, like I'm not good enough.

I'm determined to try my best to ensure my daughter doesn't have a negative inner monologue or low self worth like I did growing up. I try to encourage her and give her positive reinforcement as often as possible. I want her to remember the positive things I've said. That's not to say I don't ever get frustrated with her, but when I do I try to stop and remember shes just a baby before I say anything. She knows what the word no means, but I don't want her to know what the word bitch means. Shes the one thing I've wanted most in my life and I never want her to look back and feel like she was a burden to me or unloved.

Similar to the "bossy" campaign, there's been a lot of talk for the past few years about not using the words pretty or beautiful to little girls, so they don't associate their self worth with their physical appearance. I somewhat agree with this, but I still tell her she's cute all the time. I think cute is a broader term so its not completely related to her appearance. Even though she is beautiful, of course (totally bias).

I also say things like you're so smart or you're so clever when she learns new skills. I think its important to acknowledge all the good things no matter how tiny they may seem. I want to celebrate all her little wins so most of all she realises that I notice her. I don't want her to ever feel invisible like I sometimes did.

I want to make sure she feels seen, heard and loved throughout her childhood.

I always remember the line from The Help - You is kind, you is smart, you is important.

An unusual love story

As a young girl I remember watching Disney movies like Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid and Cinderella. Although they all have different messages and story lines they all end up with the main character overcoming obstacles and ending up with her 'prince charming'. For a couple of years I thought that's the way it worked, I would turn into some type of princess and meet my prince charming and live happily ever after. However, after watching mum and dad split up and then mum being a single parent for years after dad died the fantasy kind of disappeared. Dam you Disney for giving me false hope and dam you life for ruining it.

After my first marriage didn't go so well I didn't have high hopes of any fairytale love coming from nowhere and sweeping me off my feet. In fact I had completely come to terms with being alone for the rest of my life {a bit dramatic I know, but I had just gone through a divorce from a man who kept telling me this would be my reality if I ever left him}. I was totally happy on my own, in fact I was relishing my freedom to do what I wanted. I was going out because I wanted to. I was getting dressed up to look good for me, not for a man. I was definitely not looking for love. That old saying that you'll find love when you stop looking for it happens to be true in my case. I met my soul mate by accident.

I went out for new years eve with my best friend and some of her friends. We weren't looking for men or love or anything other than a fun girls night out. Towards the end of the night I was kind of over it. I'd had my fill of watching extremely drunk people doing ridiculous things because they were inebriated. It was entertaining at the beginning of the night, but after a couple of hours the novelty wore off. Clearly my alcohol had worn off by then too and I just wanted to leave. Lucky I didn't because I never would have met him.

This is the totally random moment we met.

My friends were arguing with this guy because they wanted his hat {one of those cardboard top hats that had NYE on it} and he wouldn't give it to them. He had his back to me so I just took it off his head {because I was over the stupid argument}. I didn't really care how he was going to react. Then he turned around and my first thought was oh shit hes good looking. It turns out he must have thought I was alright too because he spent the rest of the night with us. I went from wanting to leave at 1am to staying out until 5am, when they literally kicked us all out.

I was so out of touch with the dating game that he had to ask me for my number and my first thought was oh that's right, that's how this works. I guess I'd already come to the conclusion he would never want to see me again. That's pretty much how it worked back when I was 19 and I met guys in clubs. To my surprise he did call and we did see each other again. After a few weeks we succumbed to the fact that we were in fact "dating" and that we'd accidentally found ourselves in a relationship when we both weren't looking for one.

I can't really recall the exact moment I realised that I loved him, but the point I realised he loved me was one night when I was really drunk and vomited everywhere. He went inside and I assumed he was leaving and I wouldn't see him again. Instead he came out and cleaned everything up and looked after me. We'd only been "dating" for about a month. That's true love right there people. From that point on I knew he'd always be there to look after me.

Almost two years after we met we got engaged while on holidays in Sydney. About two weeks after that we found out I was pregnant, which was the most awesome surprise. She was very much a planned baby, but it was a surprise because we were literally just told we would need to do IVF to conceive. I went to Sydney with one love and came back with another already secretly growing inside of me.

Maternity photos taken by Jane Gilbey Photography

Now we're a perfect little family of three. I couldn't imagine life any other way. I often think what if I didn't go out that night? What if I never took that stupid hat off his head? Where would I be now? I had no idea when I met him that he would become my future.

Photo taken by Katharine Maree Photography

So, my prince didn't come riding up on an impressive horse, fly into my life on a magic carpet or rescue me from the ocean. There was no grand entrance or love at first sight moment for us and I was certainly not dressed like a princess when we met. It was just a simple fleeting moment between two strangers that coincidentally became the greatest love story of my life.

Toni x

The reality of having a child with allergies

Sound asleep in my bed I woke to her crying. It was only 5am and not her usual wake up time so in my delirious state I assumed she just wanted her dummy to go back to sleep. Then I realised the crying was different. It wasn't a high pitched demanding cry, it was a quieter whimpering. It was a sad, help me cry. I picked her up and took her over to my bed and turned on the light. That's when I realised it was happening again.

She was having another choking episode. It can happen at any time, but night time is always scarier. When it happens I feel helpless. All I can do is get her upright and pat her on the back to try and loosen up her airways enough for her to breathe. Other than that we just have to ride it out. It can go on for up to half an hour. The whole time I am rocking, patting and hugging her I have to remain calm on the outside and keep reassuring her it will be ok. Its hard to do while watching your baby so helpless, red faced and struggling. The look in her eyes is so heartbreaking, its the look of complete fear. While I remain calm on the outside so I don't get her any more worked up, on the inside I am broken. There is always that fleeting moment where I contemplate is this it? Will this be the last time I hold my baby? I have to quickly push that thought aside so I can focus on helping her. After the choking is over there is always a period where she is very lethargic and goes floppy, reacts slower and tries to work out what just happened. Once she realises she is safe she normally falls asleep. I imagine she is completely exhausted after struggling to breathe. I always cuddle her for much longer than needed at this point. I need the physical closeness to emotionally heal after such a traumatic experience.

This is not the only reaction she has from her allergies, but it is by far the scariest. What happens is thick mucus starts coming up her throat and nose and she can't breathe. If she is lying down its worse and will result in complete choking. The choking itself is silent, so I'm glad she managed to get out a cry and wake me up this time. Unless you are looking directly at her and can see her face go bright red and her struggling, you wouldn't even know she was choking. Needless to say I didn't really go back to sleep after this happened.

As a mother my biggest fear is that something will happen to my child. I'm sure many other mothers can relate. Unfortunately because of her allergies I am forced to face my fear on an almost daily basis. The more I go through it the more I learn to deal with it. I know what to do during these episodes so I don't freak out as much as I did before, but it doesn't make it any less heartbreaking watching my baby choking. We have been hospitalised for it before.

She has a cows milk protein allergy and also a soy allergy. If she has any of the protein she breaks out in red spots (which she gets every feed) and they turn into a rash and then full blown eczema the more she is exposed. She also gets extremely dry skin that means cradle cap treatment every day as well as hair washing. She also has extremely sensitive skin and reacts with hives and red patches easily. She has reacted to different bath washes, moisturisers and even olive oil (which I tried for the cradle cap).

Her allergies mean we have had to be very careful with everything that comes in contact with her skin. I use sensitive washing detergent and have gone organic with some products and am in the process of trying out more organic products as it appears the allergies will be sticking around for quite a while. Most children with cmpa will grow out of it by 1, but we have been told she might not grow out of it until 2-5 years old (if she does indeed grow out of it).

Of course her food is most affected by the allergies. It meant the end of our breastfeeding journey and going through a series of different prescription formulas to find the right one. We are trying a new one this week as she is still reacting to them. Each time I am sitting in a mothers room feeding her a bottle and I feel the breastfeeding mother next to me giving me dagger eyes I want to yell at them that she has allergies and its more healthy for her to have specialised formula. I didn't want to stop breastfeeding. If she didn't have such a bad reaction to my breast milk I would still be doing it now. I loved the bond I had with her that only a breastfeeding mother knows and I still mourn the fact that I can't do it. So to sit in the room with a stranger and feel the judgement being flung in my direction just adds salt to my wounds. Not only do I have to deal with all of these symptoms and reactions, I also have to deal with judgement from people who come into my life for a few minutes and then walk out again. Giving me condescending looks or deliberately talking loudly about how they are feeding their baby because they want to make sure I know that they disapprove of my decision to give my baby formula. They assume I am taking the easy way out instead of the best option for my baby, when I am actually doing what's best for my baby by giving her body the best chance to eat without having an extremely painful reaction.

These are all the things that my daughter and I have to deal with on a daily basis. To all of those people who say that allergies are not real and that they are just made up excuses for when people don't like a certain food, I invite you to walk a day in my shoes. I wonder if your child had an allergy if you would dismiss it and be so judgemental. I imagine most people would do what is best for their child, just like me. It would be nice if people would think about these things before they judge others.

By the way I am not pro anything when it comes to parenting, except doing what you feel is best for your child.


Toni

Christmas sensory light play for babies and toddlers

Christmas is such a magical time for children - the Christmas tree, decorations, lights, presents and Santa are all super exciting for kids. A child's first ever Christmas is such a special occasion, despite the fact they probably have no idea what's going on. 

Having a baby who's only 5 months old at Christmas time {like I did} means they can't quite comprehend Christmas enough yet, but that doesn't stop them wanting to knock over the tree, pull off all the decorations and put everything in their mouths - because putting stuff in your mouth is the coolest thing ever when you're 5 months old. 

Not so cool when it involves tinsel, wrapping paper, gift tags and god forbid electric Christmas lights. So, while Christmas time and decorations are exciting for kids, it's not really that safe for young children and can be a bit stressful for parents, myself included.

I have to admit I'm one of those mums who's overly paranoid about safety when it comes to babies. It could be some type of first time mum syndrome, or maybe it's just a natural instinct when it comes to parenting. Having said that though I don't want her to miss out on the fun of Christmas just because she's a baby. 

I've been searching for fun Christmas light ideas for babies for ages, but nothing was quite right so I literally went and scoured the cupboards to find items I had at home that I could use to create my own baby proof Christmas light play. Turns out I had everything I needed to create a great sensory play activity already, and you probably do too.

Dealing with postnatal depression

Image source: PANDA

This post is very hard for me to write. I have thought about writing it over and over for the past few weeks. Each time I talk myself out of it. I come up with numerous reasons not to write it - I don't want to open myself up to judgement, I don't know if I want people to know that this happened, I still carry too much guilt, I don't want my daughter to think she wasn't loved... the list goes on. Even now sitting in front of the computer screen I am not sure that I will be able to find the right words to express my feelings correctly. I have finally convinced myself that I should write this out and that I should not be ashamed. I don't want to send the message that this is something to be ashamed of.

Becoming a mother did not go the way that I always thought it would. I spent so many years of my life dreaming about this that I had played it over and over in my head so much so it was like I had already lived it. In my dreams it all went well and I was super-mum and had the perfect baby. Obviously that was an unrealistic expectation, but in reality I would have been happy just to have a smooth adjustment into motherhood and a special bond with my baby. I thought there was no way I wouldn't get this so I never feared that I would not be a good mum. It had been my life long mission to be a mum. I felt as though it was my purpose for living and I have always been good with babies so I never had any reason to doubt myself. Until my baby was born.

There were a lot of reasons that lead me to a very sad place. I was warned at my first hospital visit that my family history with mental illness could make me more susceptible to post natal depression. According to the questionnaire they make you do I was only medium risk, but they also said my birth experience would have a huge impact as well. Unfortunately for me my birth experience was incredibly traumatic for me. I think this is when the depression first started to creep in. Nothing had gone to plan in the past - I wasn't able to get pregnant myself, I had heaps of complications during pregnancy and then to top it all off I couldn't even give birth the way I had wanted to. I felt like I had failed. I felt like I was hopeless at being pregnant and giving birth so therefore I would be hopeless as a mum. In reality I had no control over my pregnancy complications or my birth experience so I shouldn't have blamed myself but in my cloud of depression all I could think was that it was all my fault.

I am still ashamed to admit that I did not feel an instant overwhelming bond with my baby. Of course I did love her and she was extremely wanted, but I didn't feel that bond that everyone tells you mothers will have straight away. I imagined that I would give birth and the baby would be placed on my chest, I would hold her for the first time and there would be this overwhelming outpouring of love. Tears would flow as she had her first cry and I wouldn't be able to notice anything in the room except her. My experience was very different.

She was delivered by emergency c-section and it was a very quick, unexpected and drug fuelled experience. When she came out I wasn't expecting it yet. The operation had just begun and I was still in shock that I was having a c-section and wasn't prepared to meet her so quickly. She came out a grey colour and not crying (most likely because of the copious amounts of Pethidine and Morphine they had given me). She wasn't passed to me, but whisked away. I could see her from across the room, but I was so dazed and confused from the Pethidine that I couldn't really focus on her. After a few minutes T brought her over to me, but I couldn't hold her because I was shaking so uncontrollably from the pethidine. A little while later her and T were taken to recovery and I was left lying there on the operating table alone (well except for the 11 or so drs and nurses in the room). Instead of ravishing my new baby with hugs and kisses in the first few moments of motherhood, I was instead lying on a table listening to nurses talk about how they thought they had stuffed up the knot in one of my stitches. It wasn't exactly the joyous experience I had imagined. Nevertheless I went home happy. I had my baby that I had always wanted.

The first two weeks were easy. She ate, pee'd & poo'd then slept. Apart from waking multiple times for night feeds and thus being sleep deprived, life was going along smoothly. Once T went back to work it all changed. I was bombarded with differing and conflicting advice from all directions which made me second guess everything I was doing. I lost confidence in my ability to do things. I was questioning my instincts. I had a very unsettled baby which made everything worse. Drs kept telling me it was normal for babies to cry all the time and get rashes and they acted like I was just a paranoid first time mum. On top of this people were telling me it was my fault. If I was upset she would be upset, but I was upset because she was upset, so it was a vicious cycle of emotions. It all came to a head when I had my second midwife visit.

I had been eagerly awaiting the visit in the hope that it would restore my confidence. She would reassure me that I was doing a good job and I would feel more relaxed. Instead she walked in complaining that she shouldn't have to deal with home visits as midwives should only need to deal with babies for the first three days after they are born. She set up the scales and weighed her then proceeded to tell me that I was obviously starving my child because she wasn't gaining enough weight. When I mentioned her colic she told me colic isn't real and that babies only cry because they are hungry so every time she cries I needed to feed her. I told her that she would only sleep on me so I could never 'sleep when the baby slept'. She told me I should sleep with her on me. When I questioned the safety of this given it goes against all the SIDS rules they teach you her response horrified me. She looked me up and down and said it wouldn't be unsafe because I wasn't fat enough to smother anything. Instead of boosting my already shattered confidence, her visit did the complete opposite. I was now not only being offered unsolicited advice that I was doing things wrong, but I was being directly told by a professional that I was essentially a bad mum. That visit broke me.

I felt abandoned by the professionals who were meant to be there for me. I felt ridiculed by my friends (who I'm sure thought they were being helpful at the time). I felt unsupported by my family. I felt like I was all alone, charged with the task of looking after this poor helpless baby who I was literally terrified of at times. I would lay in bed fearful of when she woke up because I knew it meant hours of screaming, vomiting, crying and stress. I knew it could take me up to 7 hours to get her to go back to sleep. I knew I wouldn't eat because I would spend the entire time trying to comfort her that I would forget about my own needs. I also knew that I wouldn't sleep at night for fear of it all happening again the next day. I was stuck in a vortex of darkness. I couldn't see a way out. I started to think she would be better off without me. I started thinking she deserved a better mum, one who knew what she was doing. I felt disconnected from her. I felt great shame because I just didn't know how to establish a close bond with her. I felt so guilty about this because I had spent years wanting her. I wanted her with me all the time because I was so desperate to calm her and make her better, but at the same time I thought I was the source of her pain. It was a catch 22. I couldn't do anything right. I was spinning out of control.

The only good thing that midwife did was give me the number for the government health nurses. The following day in complete despair I called them to arrange a home visit. I was sure I was failing and that my child was not thriving because of me, but I wasn't about to give up on her or our relationship. I was determined to speak up and ask for help. I was not going to let my depression affect her. I was determined to get better for her. I wanted to be the best mum for her. It was my last ditch effort to get help. I felt like I had spent the last two weeks shouting from the rooftops that I needed help yet had been ignored or shutdown by everyone. Thankgod for the health nurse (who immediately recognised my signs of post natal depression).

She was my saviour. When she came I felt instantly at ease. I broke down and told her everything I was feeling. I was petrified that they would take my baby away from me, but I was also desperate for help. She sent me to hospital to get help, with bubba. Thankfully while I was there the paediatricians finally listened to me and diagnosed bubba with a cows milk protein allergy. I was not imagining her symptoms and they were not hungry cries. She was in pain because her body could not digest her food properly. My instincts were right, the drs had been wrong. This restored my confidence in my own abilities. I finally felt like somebody had heard me. The hospital linked me up with a psychologist who I still see and the health nurse continued to visit me at home when needed. Finally I had the support system I had craved. My family also became incredibly supportive. After the first few weeks when everything started to get back on track I started to enjoy being a mum, the way I had always imagined I would. I created an incredibly close bond with my baby. Although it wasn't instant it is now extremely strong.

I urge those who suspect they may be depressed or think they aren't coping to please seek help. Speak up. There is huge societal pressure to keep quiet about post natal depression. People don't seek help for fear of being judged. This just makes the problem that much worse. Post natal depression is nothing to be ashamed of and it does not mean that you don't want or love your child. It is a lot more common than people realise and it does not discriminate. There are numerous professionals out there trained to deal with it and they will not judge or ridicule you for it. Instead they will help you, guide you and support you for as long as you need.

I have spoken out about my experience in order to help deter the stigma surrounding post natal depression (and mental illness in general). This week is post natal depression awareness week. You can do your bit by fundraising, sharing your story or simply spreading the awareness that PND exists and it is nothing to be ashamed of. If you are experiencing any signs of PND or would like to know more please visit Beyond Blue or PANDA.

Image source: Beyond Blue 

It has been extremely hard to lay myself bare and admit my experience to the world, but if it helps just one person to seek help or feel as if they are not alone then it is worth it. At first I did not want to write this incase my daughter reads it in the future and thinks that she was not loved. She was indeed very loved and it was my overwhelming love and desire for her to have the best life possible that lead me to seek help. If she does read this I hope she realises it takes courage and strength to admit that things are not ok. It is not a sign of weakness to admit you need help, it will probably be the single most important gift you can give your child.

You can read other stories via the links below.

UPDATE: Read why I'm glad I got postnatal depression.

Toni x

The greatest gift a man can give his daughter is to love her mother.

Photo | Katharine Maree Photography

When I was younger I don't remember my parents saying I love you to each other that often if at all. They were always busy with work and we were back and forth from babysitters so much that I hardly ever saw them together. I never really witnessed them fight, but I didn't really see them be affectionate towards each other either. In part I think this set me up to choose my ex-husband and the dysfunctional relationship we had.

My relationship with T is a lot better and very affectionate. We say I love you all the time and we hug a lot. I have always had a strong desire to create a family where my children would grow up knowing that their parents love each other. I think its important for children to see a man treat their mother right. This is most probably because I grew up without that and I know the mistakes that I have made because of it.

I want bub (and any other children we have) to grow up having very involved parents. Affectionate parents, loving parents and an engaged father. A girls first love is her father and its important for him to create a good solid image of how a man should act because this is who she is going to judge all other men against in the future. I want her to learn that a man should treat a woman like a queen. He should help her, support her, love her and celebrate her. I want her to grow up and seek out those qualities in the men she wants to have relationships with later on. I don't want her to make the same mistakes I first made.

Thankfully I had a second chance and got my life in order before I created my family. She has a wonderful father who loves her mother very much. I hope that together we can give her a solid foundation in life.

The greatest gift a man can give his daughter is to love her mother.

Toni x

Nothing goes as planned - the birth

Us @ 35 weeks pregnant

I know it has taken me a while to actually sit down and write about this. Partly because I haven't had much free time with a newborn and also because it was a very emotional experience for me. Part of the process of learning to deal with this experience and move on and accept it is for me to write about it.

If you have been following my story during my pregnancy you would know that all I wanted was to have a natural birth with as little intervention as possible. I figured that women have been giving birth for years, long before pain relief was available, so if they could do it then I could suck it up and do it too. I have a pretty high pain threshold and after all the complications I had throughout my pregnancy including the psd I was already used to pain. Of course I was open to intervention if it became medically necessary, but I was hoping it wouldn't. I was hoping I could at least attempt a natural birth before the drs would intervene. All the midwives had assured me along the way that I would be able to do this. So, here's what happened.....

I was lying in bed awake early in the morning on the 25th of July. Pregnancy insomnia had been plaguing me for the past few weeks so being wide awake for no reason didn't really phase me. After a while I figured I should get up and go to the toilet, mainly just to pass time not because I really needed to go. While I was on the toilet I heard a pop sound, but nothing happened. I thought it was weird but then also thought I may have been imagining it in my delirious sleep deprived state. So, I went back to bed to try and sleep. A few minutes later I felt really warm liquid literally coming out of me. At first again I thought maybe I'm just imagining this. But it continued to come out, like I totally thought I had flooded the bed. I woke T up and thought finally this might actually be happening!

We called the hospital and they said to come in and get checked out to confirm my waters were broken and make sure there were no problems. This was about 5:30am. I hadn't started having any contractions so I wasn't really in a rush. I called my mum and we decided to go pick her up on the way to the hospital. We left home about 6am and a few minutes later my contractions started. You know how everyone tells you that your contractions will start out really mild and far apart and not last for long and then gradually get worse over a period of a few hours? Yea well that's not the case if your water has already broken. Once your water breaks contractions are full on and intense. Lucky me I never got the easy contractions I just went BAM straight into the hard ones. Mine started at 4 minutes apart. You're meant to go to the hospital when your contractions get under five minutes apart so lucky we were already on our way. By the time we got to my mums house about 15 minutes later my contractions were varying between two and a half and three minutes apart. It didn't really bother me too much as I was breathing through it ok to deal with the pain and I was mainly excited that I was going to meet my baby. However I must admit labouring while stuck in a car seat for forty five minutes is not the most comfortable thing.

We arrived at the hospital just about 7am. By this stage my contractions were down to a minute and a half apart and so strong I had to stop and lean against my mum while having them. It took me about ten minutes to get up to labour and delivery because I had to stop so much along the way. I got up there and the midwife was pretty laid back really. Oh we're just setting up for the day just go into that room we'll be with you shortly. Um, ok lady you do realise I'm actually IN labour and my contractions are already a minute apart and it has progressed this much in only forty five minutes since my contractions started??? Oh and not to mention we're at a hospital and they generally operate 24/7 especially a labour suite, so how can you be just setting up or the day??? Was I meant to schedule my labour at a convenient time for you? Anyway yea those were the thoughts going through my head at the time. I was in pain and a bit frustrated. Lucky for her I never verbalised those thoughts (well not to her face).

She took her sweet ass time and finally came to examine me at 8am to see if my waters had in fact broken. By this time I had soaked through 3 lots of maternity pads and the pad things they put on the bed to soak up your waters so I figured checking to see if my water had broken was pretty much a pointless exercise. But, she told me she had to do it the correct way. As she tried to check a big flood of water came out at her before she even got close. At that point she too decided the test was pointless and I had infact broken my waters. Hurrah finally some sanity. She then checked to see if I was dilated. She informed me I wasn't dilated at all and that normally they would send me home at this point. Before I went bat shit crazy about that she said - but you're in too much pain to leave. Mind you she never offered me any pain relief after saying that. Go figure. She told us we would be there for a few hours and told T to go get me some food as I would need to eat to have enough energy to get through the labour.

So, we sat around in the cramped examination room and I ate a bit of yoghurt and had a drink in between my contractions which were still one to two minutes apart. They had me on the bed hooked up to the foetal monitor. I wanted to spend the majority of labour walking around and staying as mobile as possible because I knew it helped to speed up the process, but I wasn't given a choice. Just before 9am one of the obstetricians on duty had checked my pregnancy record and noticed that at my 30 week ultrasound the baby had been breech and asked when I had my follow up ultrasound and where was the report. Um, I was never allowed to get a follow up ultrasound because five midwives and my gp had all told me that she had flipped head down and stayed that way from 32-39 weeks. The ob got the midwife to bring in a portable ultrasound machine and check because I'd never had a proper follow up ultrasound.

As she was doing the ultrasound I knew something was wrong. When she checked where the head was supposed to be there was no head there. When she checked up the top under my ribs there was a head on the screen. She never actually mentioned any of this, but I'd had enough ultrasounds to know exactly what the images on the screen were. The midwife faked ignorance and said she wasn't good at using the machine so she would go get the ob to come do it. I knew this was her way of trying not to stress me out. I knew the ob had to come in because the baby was still breech. I knew it could ruin my plan of a natural birth. I knew at that moment everything was coming crashing down around me, but I still held out hope. She also told me to stop eating straight away (as if that wasn't a big enough clue my plans were falling apart).

And so it happened. The ob came in did the ultrasound and then very calmly explained that the baby was in the breech position and I would need to have an emergency c-section. There was no other option. I was not allowed to even attempt a natural birth. The hospital policy was that when they know a baby is breech you have to have a c-section. I pleaded with her to turn the baby manually so I could try and give birth naturally, but because my water had already broken it was impossible to turn the baby. She said they would be getting me into theatre asap and the anaesthetist would be in to explain the procedure. My world crumbled around me. I was in total shock and denial, but at the same time knew it was going to happen whether I liked it or not. Once she had left the room I burst into tears. I completely bawled my eyes out for a good few minutes.

After my little emotional outburst the anaesthetist came in and explained to me what was going to be happening. To be honest I wasn't paying much attention to what he was saying because I figured the more my brain understood about the procedure the more I would stress about it. I preferred to just let it happen around me and pretend I wasn't actually there. The only thing I was worried about was the spinal and ending up paralysed from it. This is pretty much the major reason why I didn't want a c-section in the first place. Im absolutely petrified of needles and the thought of one going into my spine just elevated that fear to an entirely different level. He assured me it would be fine and that complications very rarely happen. He was actually really lovely. He could see how petrified I was and was really really nice to me. I think he was the single reason why I didn't have a complete breakdown during the operation. I had just met him, but for some reason I decided I trusted him so I was a little more ok with what was about to happen.

They were going to take me into theatre pretty much straight away, however a more life threatening case came up so my c-section was pushed back. They came in to give me some morphine (they said it was for the pain, but I knew it was to slow down my labour). The problem was I didn't have a cannula in yet so they had to inject the morphine straight into my arm. Holy fuck (excuse my french) that was bloody painful and it lasted for ages. I found out after that its because the morphine creates a massive bubble in your arm under your skin and then slowly seeps into your bloodstream. Thankfully mum and T didn't inform me of this when it was happening or I would have flipped out. I just kept repeating over and over that morphine was shit and everyone who had ever said it was amazing had been lying. To me it did nothing but create more pain. My contractions were just as intense. T later said it would have worked because the contractions never increased in intensity from there (but by then they were pretty much unbearable already). Of course a little while after that the ob came back to insert the cannula. I don't know why they didn't do that first and then put the morphine in through that so I avoided all the pain! I don't know why I was surprised though, if there is a backwards way of doing something it usually happens to me.

Anyway a bit after that they came to collect me for theatre. It was finally happening whether I was ready or not. I was not. Mind you I don't think I would ever have been mentally prepared for a c-section. The fact that it happened so quickly after I found out I needed one was probably a very good thing because I didn't have a long time to think about it.

Everything after that is kind of a blur. Probably because I had so many drugs running through my system (total opposite to what I originally wanted). I know I had the morphine, quite a bit of pethidine, maxalon, I think two other anti nausea drugs (because I had eaten) and an antacid. I remember being petrified of getting the spinal because I was still having contractions. I didn't see how they could safely insert a needle into such a tiny area when my body was making me uncontrollably move every minute. Quite a few people were holding me still and they gave me the gas to distract me from what was happening. Oh my god the gas was wonderful. It didn't take any of the pain away, but it distracted me enough I didn't really notice the contraction. And it got me high for a few seconds after breathing it. I remember the drs saying well shes smiling it must be working. I didn't actually feel the spinal go in at all (thankgod). I didn't even realise they had done it until my legs started going really warm and tingly. I remember the anaesthetist saying to me let me know when you can feel something really really cold. I couldn't feel anything at all so I was lying there thinking this is a trick question, hes not even touching me. I figured he was just messing with my mind to distract me from something. Then I started to feel something touching me, then as it moved up higher it started to get cold, then freezing. I remember thinking wow he is actually touching me with an ice cube. Then I kind of freaked out that I hadn't been able to feel it. Its a very surreal experience knowing your body is still there but you cant feel it properly. Thankfully my arms never went numb.

After that everything happened really quickly. She was out within ten minutes. I didn't even know they had started the operation. I felt someone moving my stomach but I thought they were just checking to make sure it was numb. All of a sudden they were holding her up and saying here's your baby. I remember thinking what the hell where did she come from? She came out blue so they had to give her a bit of oxygen, but then she started crying straight after. I was so out of it I didn't even really notice that happening. I was still trying to work out what was going on. Next thing I know T was beside me with our baby. She looked exactly like him. I just remember staring at her trying to work out if she was really my baby. It had all happened so quickly and I was so out of it I couldn't comprehend how she made it out of me and was now beside me.

Our little beanie baby @ 3 days old

Even though it didn't happen the way I wanted it to, we were now a family. She had finally arrived. In that single moment everything had changed. We were now parents. My dream had finally come true.