#marlythemother

[marlythemother]

What to do when shit hits the fan...

Would it be ok if we just slowed down for a minute? 

Early in the year, we had miscarriage after being 12 weeks pregnant. Long story short, it was a shit time but thankfully I am a relatively strong woman. I’m resilient and positive in nature so staying sad was an emotion I did not want to sit in for a long period of time. 

As weeks went on, I started to feel better. The days of random outbursts of tears lessened at work and I learnt how to manage my emotions. The way I dealt with it was continuing life as best as I could and it made me feel better. This was how I coped and being “strong” was all I knew. 

So,  I continued to work.  |I helped others with their health goals.  I participated in training, went to conferences and spoke at events to inspire others.  If my friends needed me, I was there.  I did not go on hiatus.  I was “strong”. 

Earlier in the year, in Brisbane with friends who I now call my family.

I know that some people might have thought I wasn’t dealing with grief properly but at the time, I knew one thing - staying sad does not fix shit. It doesn’t make me pregnant again and it sure as hell doesn’t pay the bills. 

So after March, I felt like I finally got back into the swing of things. I had life, love and work under control. The list was endless. 

Our house had finally finished its build; Paulo and I had just come back buzzing from our annual conference in Brisbane;  work was going well and our little family was happy.  Not to mention, we were treated to a trip to Fiji - a competition we won with other entrepreneurs. 

But then, my body started to show signs that it wasn’t coping. 

I started to bleed even though I would finish my cycle. (Apologies to the guys for the TMI if you guys are reading this). 

In my head, I was thinking “what the f#%¥ is it now?”. 

So after lots of $$$ at a special women’s ultrasound clinic, the wand highlighted that after several months, there were still remains" inside my body from the miscarriage. 

Mother f#%?*¥!!! 

Just when I was starting to get into a groove, I had another thing to clear on my plate on top of full time work, organising a new house, preparing to pack and move whilst keeping my head afloat. 

Straight after Fiji, I took my sorry ass to Royal Prince Alfred hospital and checked myself in for a curette. 

I knocked out, woke up high (my friends on insta knew how buzzed I was), carried on with life, took two days off work and returned back to back supplier meetings. 

Again, I recovered well and continued to be “strong”. Just like Mother’s continue to do, right? 

I’d think to myself, “Alright, now I can get back to getting sh*t done".

So after that ordeal, once again I felt like I finally got back into the swing of things. I had life, love and work under control. 

Then one morning in May, I randomly decided to pee on a stick. 

I remembered the day so clearly. 

I woke up, scrambled through the bathroom cabinet and grabbed a digital pregnancy test. Did my business but like a typical mum, I put it aside on the bench as the clock started to prepare the result and did some house work. I ran down stairs, went straight to the dishes and cleaned up. I went back upstairs thinking it was ready with the result as a “not pregnant” but the result was still processing.   

So downstairs I went, but this time I grabbed some clothes along the way and put on a wash. Five minutes had passed so I went to look at the screen but instead of it having the “not pregnant” sign, Lo and behold, it displayed “1-2 weeks pregnant”. 

Fuck me. That surgery must’ve been the magical pill I needed to swallow because I was super fertile after a few short weeks. 

So there I was, looking at the test in shock, with excitement and also a hint of nerves. To be honest, I think I secretly knew I was pregnant because that whole week I was going to the toilet heaps and I was tired at work (and I’m NEVER tired at work). 

Back to the story, I told my a few of my closest friends and I was so over the moon to have pregnancy symptoms. 

The frequent pissing, the tiredness, my boobs blowing up like balloons, my insatiable appetite and feeling nauseous - yes betches, give it to me! I was on top of the world. 

Each time I went to the toilet, I’d quickly check the tissue and prep myself for bad news just in case - but nothing. Happy days. 

Life was good and I based this from toilet tissues and the nausea I was feeling. 

Then one early morning at work, the tissue from the toilet at a tinge of red. 

Mother f#%?*¥!!! 

“Ok.. don’t panic”, I told myself. 

I gave myself another 30 minutes and then went to the toilet to check the tissue post tinge. Nothing. Phew! All clear. 

Nonetheless, I carried on to work until I felt it coming. If you’re a woman, you know the feeling. It’s the moment you can feel it beginning. Back to the toilet and it’s red. More like bright red. 

I had a blank stare. I walked through the work corridor and put on a brave face in front of my colleagues when I really just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up from this nightmare.

I called my doctor to say I was dropping by, quietly packed my stuff, told my boss a lie and said “I’m not feeling well” and took my sorry ass to the medical centre. The doctor recommended a series of blood tests to check my HCG pregnancy levels but something inside told me not to bother. So I went home and slept the whole afternoon off. 

A few days before Mother’s Day, I experienced another miscarriage. 

A perfect picture of a mum juggling life's plates.

It wasn’t as physically painful as the other but emotionally it beat me up and this time, I decided to take a different route. 

I chose to sit in the pain and slow down instead of cover it with activities. Even though it’s hard to be still, I wanted to take the chance to soak in the pain so I could use it as fuel to rebirth myself and make myself unstoppable. A person who was truly strong with an unshakable force that could live a life of purpose - something I’ve desired for the whole of my life. 

Surprisingly, this led me to think of what I wanted, what I enjoyed and how I want to be remembered. 

The things that brought me joy was service, contribution and helping others. No surprises there. 

Because of this, each day I’m doing things to make a difference to help mums be the best versions of themselves and it can be whatever they want it to be too. It isn’t under my terms at all. It could be a healthier body, living a lifestyle that doesn’t stress them, a better diet, a calmer mind, less yelling, more confident or happier being. It can be whatever they want and my job will be to be a little nudge or a big fat push into the direction they want to be in. 

So if you see my tips, random posts or FB lives, read it, tune it, comment, scroll ahead, roll your eyes, unfollow me or unfriend me but know you know why. 

What I’ve endured in the last 6 weeks led to me being in the “slow” lane for this brief period of my life and I’m forever grateful for it. If it wasn’t through this time alone, I wouldn’t have had this realisation and ultimately, what I focus on now and the lives I help over the next decades will fulfil my life’s purpose. 

To the mums who are reading this and can relate to a piece of me, especially the part of being “strong” for the sake of the family, I wanted to know you’re amazing. 

However when shit hits the fan, although your usual instinct is to "carry on", maybe for once, sit in the emotion and slow down. Feel the hurt but don’t allow it to break you. 

Your family will still love you, the friends who were meant to be in your life will never have left and your skin will grow thicker over time. 

Know that you are much resilient than you think and most importantly - please remember, sometimes things fall apart so that better things can come together.

Lots of love, Marls x

[marlythemother]

A letter to a mourning mum

Since my last post, the last two weeks have been a whirlwind of emotions. I had friends, family and even strangers message me to show their support but also share that many of them have experienced the same heart ache as me.

So, this is post is for those mum’s who reached out to me and those who didn’t but wanted to.

This post is for the mum who is currently dealing with a loss from a miscarriage and also for one who is getting through life a little better each day.

While there are many letters you can write to your unborn baby, i thought this message was just as important.

I know what is going through your head because I have asked the same questions and thoughts myself.

So, whenever you feel sad or am in a very dark place...  just imagine reading this letter from our baby…

“Hi mum,

It’s me.

Please don’t start crying. 

I’m ok. Really. Great grandpa and grandma are taking care of me.

Go get some tissues to dry your eyes because I want to tell you something very important.

I know you miss me.

I miss you too…

But something just wasn’t right and when I was in your tummy.

That’s why God was showing you signs when your back was aching, and your undies looked different on some days than it did on others.

It wasn’t because you forgot to see your doctor three weeks ago.

It wasn’t because you slept on your stomach.

It wasn’t because you had a fight with dad and it wasn’t because you forgot to take your pill one day.

None of this is your fault.

Please remember that, ok?

It just wasn’t time and I didn’t want to arrive and then to leave so soon after. I would be devastated and I know you’d be too.

As much as you’re hurting now, I wanted you to live your best life so you didn’t have to be so stressed and worried because I was sick.

This is why I sent you this letter because I know there are days when you cry and I wish I was there to hug you.

I know dad tries to say things to make you feel better. Sometimes you wish he would just listen and hold you but he’s trying his best. Remember, he’s hurting too. He just doesn’t know what to do or say sometimes.

Oh, and you know those thoughts you have sometimes when you really miss me?

You know, the bad ones?

Please don’t do that.

Everyone still needs you on this earth.

I’m doing fine just here and I’m watching you all the time.

I can hear your thoughts.

I am also wiping your tears.

I see you when you’re smiling and laughing – oh, and that really makes me happy because I hate when you don’t. You have such a beautiful smile.

Don’t worry mum. You will see me in heaven one day. I promise you.

But right now, there are so many wonderful things coming your way for you and dad and I don’t want you to miss it.

So, don’t worry if you start to feel better, smile and laugh over time. I know you still miss and love me. It doesn’t mean that you’ve forgotten me because I know you haven’t.

Remember I’m always with you.

Just like the stars, I’m watching over you. You might not see me in the day, but I’ll always be looking down at you from the sky at night.

With lots of love,

Your baby xo”

[marlythemother]

The day we lost our baby.

“There doesn’t seem to be any cardiac activity... I’m sorry”

I looked into his eyes as he held the wand. There was no hope. His eyes, they had nothing.  Not even an ounce of hope. I heard my neighbour next to me fight off tears. For me, not a sound to be made. “Thank you”, i said. Lying in the dark room. I’m looking at his face. i’m looking at the screen. He was searching. Waving the wand back and forth. Still... No waves or sounds. Dying for any emotion. Waiting for a word.  His face, his eyes, the screen... Empty.

Still hopeful after the first bloods were taken.

Hours went by.. Still waiting in the procedure room. Nurses in and out. One hour later, the doctor came. Still blank, his face. Just like the man with the wand. So i cried, but not too much. Don’t make too much noise. Maybe they made a mistake. But he said, “These things happen... it’s not your fault”. So i thought, Maybe i’m the lucky one? Since it’s happened twice now, I must have a gift. Some hidden strength which can endure such pain. Perhaps that’s why God chose me to be the 1%. Could it be that there was someone else wanting this more than me? Was i the stronger person for this battle?

Then Paulo arrived. My pent-up emotions surfaced and after he reached out to hold me, i fell into his arms and let go. This time i didn’t hold back. I wailed. After trying to keep it together, a flood of tears filled the hospital floor.

It was a quiet 10 minute drive back to the apartment. Wanting to keep myself occupied, i wanted to cook, clean, go shopping. Anything to keep distracted from thinking. Happy for anyone to talk. I was happy to listen. Until i felt the first cramp on the couch. And then, 

POP!

My water broke. It was happening. Tonight. There was no time to waste. In a flash, this would soon be over. Over the bowl, the tissue was getting heavier. The cramps were not painful, they were just there. Present.  Giving me the signs to prepare myself. Every time I walked, I could feel it... empty. Looking at the bowl, I had gone mad - like a crazy woman. Trying to find my baby. I could feel my belly tense up. A feeling so familiar. The plastic seat, wet from sweat. Dripping. I could feel my heart beat. I was scared  But my body knew what it needed to do.

I pushed. Waited. and pushed some more. Then, i birthed the last piece. Into my hand, with a tissue.. I held it. Wanting to see, feel, hold my lost baby. Reality quickly set in. In a matter of milliseconds, i knew it was over. I dropped the tissue. The one thing that was supposed to give my baby life - Failed. So i screamed. The kind you only hear in horror movies, but this was my reality. That’s when Paulo rushed in and i died in his arms.

The letter

Then morning came. Emptiness. Without making a sound,  I cried the loudest.

People say to ‘grieve’. i’m not sure what that means. They say it’s ‘normal’, But i don’t want to be ‘normal’. I just wish you were here.

Let me be sick. Give me the headaches. The things that women complain about. Let me have it. Give it to me. It’ll tell me that everything’s ok. Complain, you’ll not hear a word. Ever.

It’s been five days since you left us. You would’ve been over 13 weeks by now. The days are getting better... slowly. It’s hard to stay sad. Staying sad does not pay the bills. Crying does not bring you back. With so many miracles around me, i can only be forever grateful. Grateful that i got to be with you, even if it was a short time. I’m so lucky to have had the chance to have you safe in my belly.

Until then, please watch over us. Be our angel so we never have to walk alone. Hear my thoughts, catch my tears. I hope you always know, Although i’m excited about your next brother or sister when that day comes, You’ll always be my baby. I’m always thinking of you and i cannot wait til the day comes when i’m in heaven with you so i can touch you, kiss you and hold you tight.

R.I.P Baby Pelaez 08.01.19 Forever in our hearts <3

Your ate Penny, our first little miracle.

[marlythemother]

Daycare. Stop taking my money.. but thank you as well.

In every parent's life, there comes the time that you might have to put your little one in the care of others. You have to get back to work to pay for the bills that magically find themselves addressed to you and the to pay for roof over your head. If you are lucky, you might have help from your parents. This is often ideal as saving a quick buck where you can is necessary to survive in Sydney.

Unfortunately, my parents were unable to help us out this way. Although I initially felt I was handed the shit end of the stick, I came to understand that they’ve had at least one child in their care, every day between Monday to Friday for the last five years. They were limited to maybe one holiday a year as they felt they had an obligation to take care of their grandchildren, which shouldn’t have been the case. During my maternity leave, I witnessed that the responsibility took a toll on their health. As much as I would've liked to save some money, it honestly wasn’t fair to put them under more physical and mental stress.

After eight months, I returned to work on a part-time basis and Penny went to day-care two days a week. Tuesday, 16th August 2016 was bittersweet.

On the way to ‘school’ on her first day. She knew something wasn’t right..

The morning was nerve racking for me, knowing that I had to leave her. I had a hard time learning to trust these people, strangers that I didn't know. I remember looking at her in the morning and although she was totally fine, my mind was racing. Thoughts of something going wrong, of anxiety, of abandonment, that I was a “shit” mother.

We loaded her pram with her bag of spare clothes, bottles, milk and made our way to ‘school’. I remember stopping by the lights to take a picture of her and feeling so sad. It was as if she was going away for a year. (Um no, it was only a few hours, idiot. Literally, six hours. Yes, being a new mum sometimes makes you lose perspective). As I viewed the picture, her face looked as if she knew something was up. This girl was clever!

Once we arrived, she was quickly greeted with smiles from her carers in the nursery room. It was a loud environment. I saw babies playing, one was crying and one of the ladies rushing around looking for a dummy. In my mind, this was a mad house! I was ready to bolt out the front door. With reluctance, I handed over Penny to one of the girls who showed her to the toys. This of course interested her as she was getting sick of the same toys at home. I kissed her and told her I would be see her soon.

Ok mum. You can go now!

After the drop off, I met one of my girlfriends who had just returned from two years in London for lunch. It was such weird but wonderful feeling, to have a meaningful adult conversation without having to settle a crying baby, whip out your breast to feed P or even push the pram back and forth while she naps. It felt so liberating to have complete focus on something and someone else for once.

My friend accompanied me to pick up Penny, and I still remember the blank look I received as I peered from the gate. She was not impressed. She was stunned. Once I had given her a cuddle, she cried a thousand tears. It made me forget how good I was feeling earlier. As I carried her, I needed to know why she was so upset. I checked her log book to see how she slept, ate and drank her milk. Alarm bells rang when I noticed that she hadn’t drank much milk during the day, I was livid! Long story short, I lost all hope in the competency of carers after one incident.

That night I couldn’t sleep and I wrote an even more detailed routine schedule for Penny. I ended up emailing it through around 2.00AM. I needed them to understand exactly what we were doing in the mornings and to maintain consistency with daily routines as much as we could. As expected, they took the feedback on so well. It turns out that they were also perfect at handling nervous mums!

It got easier. As much as I couldn't believe it at the time, each day got better. I used to call every morning once I had arrived at work and did for months. If the carers thought I was crazy, I couldn’t give a flying f*ck. In fact, I'm sure they found it irritating. It’s what I needed to do to help reassure myself that everything was ok. Every afternoon, I read all the journals so I could see how she went with the activities. The pictures of her smiling and playing with her friends was heart-warming.

Together again <3

As Penny increased her days, the carers explained that she had settled in even more now that she was there regularly. You don’t know how much relief that gave me! Even though it took me a few months to be comfortable, I learnt not to be so hard on the carers. My other mummy friend told me that we couldn’t expect for things to be perfect straight away. They’re still learning about our babies and this will take time. She was completely right! How could I expect that they would know exactly what to do? It takes time for teachers to get to know the personality of the kids: what they like, what they don’t like, their mannerisms and more. I know I am still getting to know Penny each day as she grows into a beautiful young girl and every day, Pau and I are still learning so much about each other.

It’s now been 10 months and Penny is at school five days a week. There are still days when she is a challenge to get into the car and cries when carried over to her carer. Despite the few times that this happens, I couldn’t be happier with her progress. To me, she is such a clever little lady! As much as I would love to spend as much time with her, I cannot restrict her. Our baby girl was born to fly!

So for mama’s who are finding it hard to deal with the inevitable task of sending their children to care, I hope you find your peace. That ‘mummy guilt’ might always be there but just know that your kids are exploring and learning so many things. Things that we might not have had the time or skills to dedicate to. They are never alone and they are not upset for long. They are around other children who are also growing up to be amazing human beings, so enjoy watching your baby fly!

Today is your day. You're off to Great Places! You're off and away!

[marlythemother]

A woman’s worth.

We work so hard in this demanding job and sadly, are judged for the choices we make for ourselves and or our family.

We are often the reason why our family is clean, clothed and fed so we instead of being against each other, we really ought to start supporting each other.

Being a mother is a major act of complete selflessness and sometimes does not come with the recognition you deserve. 

So to all mothers, I hope you know that your work does not go unnoticed and there are a multitude of things that your family and the world can thank YOU for:

Waking up with Penny at Canmore #thePelicanosdoCAN

Thank you for being a stay-at-home mum to be with your children while they are still young.

Thank you for working long and hard hours to pay for the roof that keeps us safe and warm.

Thank you for creating healthy meals for your child to just throw it on the floor.

Thank you for buying a happy meal so your child eats something for lunch.

Thank you for being the first person to wake up every morning while the rest of the family sleeps in.

Thank you for being the face that gets slapped in the morning by your child/ren.

Thank you for making sure there is always clean clothes to wear.

Thank you for “getting on with it” even though you only had blocks of 2 hours sleep for the past few days.

Thank you for being the last to eat your food because you make sure everyone else is fed.

Thank you for managing the finances so there is money left for a rainy day.

Thank you for getting your hair cut or coloured only twice a year because you'd rather save the money for your family.

Thank you for keeping Kmart in business because maternity leave would be so boring without it.

Thank you for watching youtube videos of children opening kinder surprise eggs... on repeat.

Thank you for saving the best piece of chicken for your husband.

Thank you for cleaning the house when you have a spare minute even though you could be putting your feet up.

Thank you for doing the drop off and pick ups for the extra curricular activities on the weekend.

Thank you for holding your baby to sleep because nothing else was working.

Thank you for sleeping uncomfortably, with a dead arm, on the side, for 5 hours because your baby hogged the bed.

Thank you for offering the magical boob to help get your baby to sleep so the rest of the family can get some zzz'.

Thank you for doing everything you do even though you don't get the recognition you deserve.

Thank you for sacrificing your time and sometimes your happiness for your family.

To all the mothers, may you be appreciated for the wonderful mother you are on Mother's day. I hope your family lets YOU decide where you want to go today.

[marlythemother]

Waking up with Penny

You see that small space on the left between the end of the pillow and Penny’s back? Yes, that’s where i sleep. :D

For the first time in a very long time, I questioned my ability as a mother. Penny doesn't sleep through the night, likely because I still choose to breastfeed.

Well... i wish i slapped myself across the face for doubting myself.

We've tried most strategies (except the C.I.O method) to no avail. I've put her awake in her crib, she's fallen asleep from the milk, we've tried offering water, ignoring her, patting her bum in the crib, patting her in bed with us, co-sleeping next to me, in-between us and also giving her the whole bed if she pleases while either one or both of us have slept on the floor. No matter what, she will wake up whatever the circumstance; from separation anxiety, wanting her human pacifier, milk, because she can't stretch or kick her leg in a certain position because we're in the way or general chit chat.

What did i expect from having a baby? Did I think my old sleep routine would continue? Wake up feeling rested, sleep in, have a full night's rest and have a whole bed to my self with the added responsibility of a baby? Well I can throw that fucken idea out the window because I don't think that will be happening time soon.

All I know is that Penny's personality shines through and her waking up is just HER. She's the party girl that just wants to wake up and play, hang out with mum and dad, squeeze in between both of us so she can wake up to both of us.

I've just embraced the fact that she wakes up because she yearns for our touch and that’s something wonderful. She just wants to be with us because she loves us and we are her world.

I've gotten over the sleep deprivation and swallowed a spoonful of cement because these will be the best years of my life. When I accept that, the less cranky i am in the morning after I've had six hours of broken sleep.

All she wants to do is be with us and Penny is just the 'party rocking' girl who hates missing out on anything. Even if that's 2 or 3 hours after she has first gone to sleep.

Sleeping through isn't a milestone, and I sure won't be getting a referral from a paediatrician to see what is 'the root problem' is that 'explains' it all. So many people have different experiences: Babies can sleep through from 2 months and some don't sleep through until they're 3 years old. It's not something you do 'right' if they are, and its not something you do 'wrong' if they aren't. It's just the baby. You can do the same parenting with two and they can both sleep differently. So Penny, wake me up all you like.

It's ok because it wont be forever and to be honest, you're never going to catch up on sleep when you have children. I'm sorry for any of the times you were upset because Doctor Google recommended that I wait a couple of minutes before attending to you when all you wanted was a cuddle.

Happy 13 months my darling. You are amazing and our little dance star. Keep shining and feel free to wake me up in the morning for a chat when you're in your teens and mums aren't 'cool' anymore.

Your mum, Marlene.

[marlythemother]

Don't forget you and don't forget him.

Day 5 for Penny and my kangaroo pouch

2016.

The majority of the day was me focusing on Penny.

Everything was about her.

I focused on her nap times and how long she slept for, entertaining and educating her, wondering why she hasn't done a number two, 'boobing' or pureeing and cooking things that are low in sugar, low in salt and crap in taste.

In the beginning, I was also nervous going out to places in fear that she would just be hysterical. When you don't have a car, you try to avoid having to lug a pram, shopping/baby/hand bags while manoeuvring through people in peak hour transport and having to wear your baby in a carrier. But of course, you want to get on with life with some normality.

She 'consumed' me in so many ways that, I rarely, if ever concentrated on myself. For fucks sake, it was only when we went on our recent USA & Canada trip that I realised I hadn't treated myself to shopping or done much to take care of myself since the last holiday (which was probably in 2014).

What I realised is that I lost myself along the way. I hardly saw my friends, I skipped meals because I forgot to eat, my outfit staples were tights and a t-shirt, working out and maintaining my figure were thrown out the window. I just didn't feel like myself and I felt like shit. Especially when you see your friends enjoying a night out, and you on the other hand are holding a hysterical toddler (read: in the heat, cooking dinner, noodles flying everywhere because she doesn't want to be put on a play mat).

Penny on a good day eating her dinner

Yes, your lifestyle and priorities will change after having a baby. That is inevitable but it doesn't mean I wasn't able to do small things to make myself feel better. So in 2017, I've decided to take a little more care of myself:

Relationships: - Maintain contact with my friends on a daily basis, facilitate lady dates and join outings where possible.

Food: - Remembering to eat GOOD food at REASONABLE times of the day.

Self-care: - 'Treat' myself to things I love: eyelash extensions, 'project blonde' and have some coverage my mug on the daily. If I'm going to have reduced sleep, I figure that I might as well look like something other than an aged crack-head. To say the least, having a baby completely changes you.

I've had trying times and many 'highs' that outweigh the 'lows'. Sometimes I am blissfully happy and some days I wonder what the fuck I am doing. There are days when I sing and dance for Penny like a nut job (to show that eating veggies are great), and there are nights where I'm losing my shit, because Penny has been up and raving from 1:00am. All in all, (for me) parenthood has so far been an education in how much you can achieve and function with little sleep. But thankfully, I haven't been alone on this wild but exciting rollercoaster. I am extremely lucky to have my boyfriend, Paulo - the father of our child, in my life.

Paulo’s first birthday with Penny

Although I've said that 2017 is about me, it's also about us as a family. To honour him for the things he does.

So Paulo, to name a few...

Thank you for hugging me every morning before we leave for work to reduce my blood pressure - LOL thank you to Facebook videos as well. Thank you for your unconditional love towards Penny and myself, even when we are barnacles on your butt. Thank you for leaving work early every Thursday to pick up Penny from school, so I can do something for myself. Thank you for being the driver while Penny and I nap at the back. Thank you for calling me to check if I want Maccas before you come home from basketball. Thank you for bringing me little surprises from work even if its water bottles, candy or colonial first state coloured balloons for my birthday in 2014. Thank you for taking Penny when she is breaking my (figurative) balls. Thank you for making me to have 'time out' when I'm about to lose it. Thank you for introducing me to my love of basketball and documentaries on NBA stars. Thank you for playing the piano for us, so that Penny knows you're a man of many talents. Thank you for reminding me to go out and take care of myself. Happy Valentine's day bub. Love, Penny and I.

[marlythemother]

When 40 minutes is all you have

The first four weeks with Pen when she only wanted to sleep on me. 

It's 12:41pm and she's asleep.

Finally!!! Fuck fuck fuck. What a mission!

Penny still has the sniffles and fell asleep 'on the boob' (again). What you don't know is that I spent over an hour trying to put her to sleep even though I was reading all her sleep cues. It was an absolute shit-fight and ended in tears.

As she lies snoring yet peacefully on my pillow with my arm around her waist, I'm torn between wanting to put her in her cot where she will wake up crabby after 30 minutes due to a snuffly nose OR letting her a decent sleep of 1-2 hours in my arms and wake up like a brand new little lady.

The decision is easy. It's the latter, but it means you accept that you are going to have to haul ass once she wakes because there's shit to be done and not enough hours in a day.

Since becoming a mother, I've found that I am constantly running around meeting the needs of everyone else and rarely my own. Aside from your baby, you also worry about a whole bunch of things that involve childcare, your return to work, income, what to eat for dinner, trying to remember if you've cleaned up the mess from earlier, whether there is laundry to be done, when you might find time to go to the gym and do something else other than being a mother, when you might be able to see your friends again.

The list is endless...Meanwhile you haven't even had breakfast and you certainly don't have time to have a shower - at least not yet.

It is tiring. Physically and emotionally. Caring for the little one, trying to maintain a household (or someone else's) and managing the expectations of others can become a heavy weight on your shoulders. It might be simple and small when you break it down but all the little things add up and it does get overwhelming.

I've come to realise that this job requires strong time management skills. What they don't tell you is that the average sleep cycle for a baby after their newborn stage is 40 minutes, sometimes shorter.

So with the 40 minutes i have to work with, here's a typical morning's routine fit into her first morning nap:

T-minus 40 minutes and counting

40 minutes: Quietly creep out of the baby room and out off sight. Side note: I spend 15 minutes trying to do the 'fading method' and this hardly works. This is only because she seems to be overtired by the time I start winding her down. So I hold her tight for an additional 45 minutes while she unconsolably cries, yawns and rubs her eyes all at once. I can't even 'place her on the bed drowsy-but awake' because you just know you're going to be holding her for an extra 30 minutes. This sleep training bullshit is really testing my fucking patience. 37 minutes: Pace back and forth trying to figure out which chore I should do next, collect her washing basket and take it downstairs to do an express wash.

36 minutes: Shit. Realise half of the fucking bibs have food stains all over it. Will Napisan them now. Do I wait for an hour for it to soak and then put it all together? No. Fuck it. Will wash what I have now so that she has clean sleeping bags for tonight. Shit. I remember that I don't think I cleaned up her mess from breakfast, better do that next!

33 minutes: Go to the kitchen and collect her half eaten bowl of cereal and fruit to throw in the bin. Wash all breakfast utensils and wipe down the bench. Throw all the toys on the mat in one pile to the side.

32 minutes: See the day care enrolment form which has been sitting in the same spot for two weeks. Have been meaning to complete it but it is literally goes for 15 fucking pages, table that instead. Also need to make an online claim for childcare benefits. Lastly, another reminder for me to get her to try a different formula as she didn't take to the last two tins we bought. Need to wash, sterilise and pump tonight because I only make enough for one bottle. If formula doesn't work, I need to get my supply up as much as I can for when she starts daycare in 2 weeks.

31 minutes: Does she have solids to eat today? Ugh. Nothing. Go into granny flat to get her food from the freezer, bring it to the main house and start defrosting this so it's ready for tomorrow. Thinking to myself that i should've done this last night. Duh. Will try and remember for tonight.

30 minutes: Turn on kettle and check work emails to review any urgent requests. Need to prepare for conferences and read through manuals but this will need to wait for tonight. I hope she doesn't keep waking up every 3 hours like last night. Pass the day care enrolments form again and grunt to myself.

27 minutes: Put hot water in a pot and throw in some peas.  Boil, drain and cool.

24 minutes: Head into granny flat and notice bub did a load of washing before he left for work. Hang washing. Check on the monitor as it flashes on. False alarm! Just some street noise. Yes! she's still sleeping. 19 minutes: Return to the main kitchen and the peas are cooled down now. Pass the enrolment form again and think of the online claim, bottle and feeding concerns again. Snap out of it quick and take the peas over to the granny flat to blitz into puree. Not too runny this time around. She practically drank the last batch. Put into containers for next two days and store remainder in the freezer. Quickly do a stock take of the fridge, need to do something with these veggies and fruit before they become questionable. 16 minutes: Head back into the main house to store her solids and have a brief chat with my nephew about planets. Toast some bread for him and ask him to share his fruit with me. Disguise it as me wanting to encourage 'sharing' but really I'm bloody hungry. I realise I haven't eaten, put bread into the toaster for myself and wait. Gobble it up and look at the clock. She will wake soon.

11 minutes: Head back into the granny flat and plug in my phone to charge. A low battery phone is the last thing you want when you're cradling your child later in the day because they don't want to go into their crib. Grab the towel and bath robe and walk towards the shower.

10 minutes: Noise from the baby monitor. She's starting to cry, wondering where I am. I stand still, watching the monitor to see if she's going to settle herself. Nope. It's escalating. I should try doing that 'drowsy but awake' bullshit next time. Hang the towel and bathrobe back up.

8 minutes: Go back into main house and hear the washing machine beep. Her clothes are ready to be hung.

7 minutes: Cuddle her and see if wants to sleep again, but I can't tell. Instead I'm dodging her hand from slapping me across the face.

4 minutes: Sit on the bed while she's stepping all over me. Cranky AF and still yawning. The first thing I'll do once she's down for her next nap is take a shower.

Final 60 seconds: Gain the strength to do it all over again. Hope the next nap is not going to be a complete shit fight.

One day I'll find my rhythm. One day. One day she will sleep on her own without needing me. One day she will let me have a shower even of that means if she watches and waits for me in the bathroom. One day she will prepare me a meal while i rest. One day she will be going to school and graduating. I will blink and she will be a young adult taking care of me. That's when I know that all this sacrifice is worth it.

Then they smile and your life automatically becomes that much happier.

When you come home and you see that your wife/partner/girlfriend/baby mama looks beat, ask her “what can I do to make your life easier?”. She might not say anything but her face will say it all.

And amidst this chaos, I still want Penny to have siblings. I am fucking nuts.

[marlythemother]

The last 12 hours before my life changed

Welcome to the 'news and spews' of my journey as a mother.

You'll also read about the beautiful, ugly and raw thoughts from being a newbie to this gig. I often use "colorful" language so just a heads up! Don't say i didn't warn you.  ;-) 

Pre-Baby P:

Come 7:00am, we head up to RPA. Press Level 3 on the elevator and wait in a small kitchen room. I remember it being quiet. A few ding-dongs coming from patients but honestly, there was hardly any sounds coming from the rooms except once or twice as i was being shown to my room.  All i remember is thinking that babies sounded a lot like cats.

Side note: I ended up being induced at the recommendation of doctors as our baby wasn't growing 'textbook' from what they could see in the ultrasounds. It was scary hearing that news but if that was the case (which thankfully, it wasn't), it would be better for baby to thrive outside rather than in. So, okay...Induction it is! Being induced made it easier in terms of what I could expect. There were steps to the process and time measures. Perfect! The only thing that wasn't perfect was the first step of the induction...see below:

Step 1: Tape with string gets inserted into you to leave for 12 hours (read: nurse fingers you so far up your sugar walls that you forget your manners, then twirls this 'tape' around your cervix).           Geez lady, at least tell me your name first and use more lube!

Step 2: If dilated: Leave you until the morning to break your waters           If not: Insert a (hot-air) balloon inside your sugar walls at night and break waters tomorrow morning.

Step 3: Have baby.

The end.

Excellent! There was a plan. I like plans.

After completing step one, I waddled up and down the halls of RPA as part of the waiting game. I played Pokemon on my Nintendo DS, solved sudoku puzzles, watched reruns of Seinfeld, went to the toilet, ate breakfast, lunch and dinner at the appropriate times and took a nap. All luxuries that I now realise I perhaps took for granted. Night came and the midwife came to check on my progress. Yes! I was dilated. Approximately 2cm. Awesome! No need for them to pump a (hot air) balloon up me. So now, I wait for morning and baby time!

It was about 10:00pm and I remember crying as I said goodbye to Paulo. Because I was in a shared room, he couldn't stay the night with me and I remember feeling so alone and scared. So to toughen up, I took one tablet of pain relief, watched more reruns of Seinfeld and drifted off to sleep. I woke up to nurses attending to my roomie. I look at my phone, 1:30am. Two hours had passed. Fuck me.

Machines were plugging in and beeping, she sounded like she was having the start of some active labour so they whisked her off.

I remember thinking, "Good bye lady, and good luck".

So there I lay: now awake, still alone and continuing to time contractions on my trusty phone app. Breathe in, breathe out.

As the contractions became stronger, I had to time everything precisely or I'd be screwed. For example, when I needed to pee, I knew i had 30 seconds of 'come down' (relief) before the wave of cramps came back. So at around 2:00am, the come down commenced and i quickly waddled to the toilet to do my business. Just before I place the tissue in the bowl, I had a closer look. The plug. An ugly booger. For the next few minutes, I just sat on the toilet shitting (not literally) myself. I questioned if my eyes were deceiving me, this was it! It's baby time. I pressed the nurse button which was conveniently situated by the pisser and waited for the midwife (Let's call her 'The Drunk'...you'll soon see why) who confirmed that Baby P was coming soon. She reassured me that I'd have a couple of hours to go before my waters break.

Back to bed I went, off with that information that my waters would break in a couple of hours and continued with reruns of Seinfeld...until hunger strikes. Just before the clock struck 3:00am, I geared myself up to go to the kitchen and get a snack. I sat at the edge of my bed, waiting for the 'come down' and once it did I hopped off. POP!\What the fuck was that? Holy shit. I was pissing my pants. Slowly. Huh? That's weird.

Then it dawned on me. It was my waters breaking. I was confused because The Drunk said i had a few hours! By the side of my bed, I paced back and forth like a dickhead, confused and crying because i didn't know whether to go to the toilet to finish 'peeing' or clean up the mess so the midwives wouldn't be angry for having to clean up the floor. Eventually I made my way to the toilet and waited for the midwives to come. After they confirmed that Baby P was on the way, I texted Mum to get a Paulo's ass back to the hospital.

Soon after, the contractions were building up to the point where I couldn't move as freely as I could before. The nurses suggested I sit in the shower with the hot water on me, I decided I couldn't hack it any longer and called The Drunk to talk about pain relief. She checked and said I was 7cm already. Over the past 60 minutes, I contemplated a C-section or consuming all the drugs Mexico's cartels had ever produced...but it was too late. I asked for gas but they said it was too late! Bitch, I thought you guys would serve it on a platter. Turns out you have to ask for it...earlier on. Rookie mistake. Dammit! There went my plan of being a little high one last time.

The Drunk turns up with a wheelchair to whisk me off to the delivery ward. By now, it felt like I was peaking on five pills  But not the good shit...downers. I was exhausted, delirious, pumping with adrenaline yet couldn't keep my eyes open. I sat my ass down to leave and it became really clear that The Drunk obviously failed her wheelchair driving test. She bumped me into furniture and doors at least 3 times before we even left the room. Dumb bitch, don't you know my insides are about to explode? What was supposed to take 3 minutes of wheelchair time also took 10 minutes, she left paperwork in my room and had to go fetch it while I sat parked just outside the swinging delivery ward doors. I remember thinking to myself: "Don't kill the bitch. Just UFC her ass in your head and once you've done that, continue thinking positive thoughts. Your baby is on their way".

We head into the delivery ward, there's one midwife in a dim lighted room. That was it. It was just me, Paulo and a lady who had my minge in full view. My eyeballs rolled towards the back of my head in between contractions and the lady asked if I wanted to view what was happening with a mirror. I thought "Lady, thanks for the suggestion but let's concentrate on getting this baby out".

After several Kama Sutra positions across 1.5hours (one of which involved me sitting on a cold, hard, toilet shaped piece of D-grade art),  my life changed completely and for the better.

The wait was finally over. She had arrived.

At 7:40am on the 23rd of December 2015, Paulo and I welcomed Penelope Laila Pelaez into the world. She measured at 49.2 cm and weighed 3183 grams. She was our perfect little potato.

Another person who was perfect was Paulo. He was the best support person I could ever have asked for. He was the contraction timer, personal masseuse, bone-crushing hand hold recipient, thigh holder and motivator. Thank you for everything you did on the day and what you you continue to do for Penny and I. We love you very much xx

[marlythemother]

I don’t take care of myself as well as I should and if I can’t do this, how the hell can I take care of someone else?

So this blog is my ME time and I’m going to fucking enjoy every minute of it.

Stay tuned.