Bethany's Baby Babblings

I was this close to giving up on this blog due to my mental health taking a massive hit, but I shall persevere. With the blog and life in general. So squidge is 10 months old. Double figures. And still alive. Go me. Here we are dressed as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum for a charity wheelchair push for Emma's Mito Mission (to raise money for Mitochondrial Disease which is what my sister died of - still collecting sponsors here  if you're feeling generous) (we'll ignore the fact that madam had a tantrum before so didn't actually do the five miles. Mum and Dad 0, Monkey 1) Highlights of her tenth month; • she can say mum!!!!!!!!!!!! but only when she's absolutely sobbing her eyes out. Which I know is nice but it also absolutely heart breaking. She'll be able to play me like a fiddle now she can say mum. She saves her dada's for happy singing times • the top two teeth has cut through. FINALLY. Maybe, just maybe, she'll sleep better now (haha we w...

Squidge is sleeping ok for both sets of grandparents but not when she's at home. So it's clearly something I am doing wrong. Except I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I don't know what I'm doing full stop. It's 11.23pm and I've only just got her to sleep. She was yawning and rubbing her eyes at 6.50pm and we put her down to sleep at 7pm yet the hysterics started and didn't stop. It's been like this for two or three weeks now and it's really wearing me down. I can feel myself spiralling again and it's poop. I just want to have a handle on things. I want to have the patience and perseverance and positivtity to deal with curveballs. Instead I'm just criticising and catastrophising (I really didn't mean to go to town on the alliteration just then. If only I had a natural talent for parenting rather than basic literary devices!) Thank god my therapy starts in a week and a bit. I really hope she can fix my thinking. My therapist i...

I finally have my counselling sessions scheduled. It's weird, I almost feel like I don't need them because I am actually doing miles better than I was when I got referred.  But I know I do. I've just coped by blocking my thoughts rather than changing them. And when things get bad (like last week's sleep regression) that's when I crumble and have scary thoughts.  I'm glad it's happening but I am shitting it about having to spill and address all my feelings. Which is daft because I'm half doing it now on this blog. But it's easier to be brave and honest from behind a screen.  Woah this post got a bit deep. Here's a photo of squidge.

My depression has really been biting me in the arse this week. I wish the waiting list for the therapy wasn't so bloody long. The bad thoughts have been getting louder and I haven't got the strength to ignore them. (Don't worry I'm not having thoughts of hurting myself or my kiddo. I have had self harming urges in the past and it's really scary but I think my antidepressants have stopped those urges) Basically I've managed to convince myself that my daughter doesn't like me. Even as I'm typing this out I realise how ridiculous that sounds. But my brain is broken and that's what it's doing. Wiggles is always so happy and smiley but recently she's been crying, angry and frustrated, until someone else is with her then she's fine. I know I shouldn't be taking this personally but PND is a bitch and overrides all rational thoughts. Those close to me have comforted me and reasoned with me, saying it's because I'm her mum so sh...

Sooooooo I'm slowly getting used to being alone with my baby while Dale is at work. I'm no longer in a state of total panic and I'm not counting down the hours till Dale gets home. I'm still unsure, wobbly and a bit lost but it's going in the right direction so yay :) To pass the time I've been introducing my little chunk to Disney films (it's never too early to start inflicting your own interests and hobbies onto your children!) So far her favourites are Moana, Fantasia and Aladdin. When I say favourites, I mean films that she actually pays attention to for a few minutes at a time. I am aware that she isn't really capable of film preferences at eight weeks old. I am also very glad she isn't old enough to tell me to stop singing along to A Whole New World and such Disney bangers.

I lost my safety blanket this week, Dale went back to work. He's been an absolute rock for the past six weeks. So obviously this is when my post natal depression really cranked up a gear. Total panic set in. I felt sick with anxiety. Every minute felt like hours. I was exhausted yet I couldn't sleep as my mind was racing. I felt lost and hopeless. I seemed to be doing everything wrong and I had no idea what I was doing. I didn't want to leave the house because I didn't want people watching me, judging me for being a shit mum. Luckily my GP is on it and super attentive (she already sorted my counselling) and prescribed me with anti-depressants. Unluckily, the side effects are making me feel worse - even tireder, headaches, groggy. They should wear off in a week or two, then the tablets will start to do their job a week or two after that. Then hopefully the thoughts and feelings above will be under control and eventually go away. I've titled this post Rock Botto...

She's four weeks old today. Four weeks of motherhood and I have been unofficially diagnosed with post natal depression. I say unofficially because no-one has outright said it to me but my healthcare visitor and GP have referred me for perinatal psychological therapy. And I'm ticking most of the boxes of the symptoms. I was half expecting to have post natal depression (let's use the abbreviation from now on, PND) anyway due to a history of depression and self-harming, and just being generally anxious day to day. My sister passed away 7 weeks before my daughter arrived and I tried my hardest to stay strong mentally, emotionally, physically to protect my daughter. So once she was born it was obvious that my mind and body just broke down. I realise this post isn't in keeping with my usual tone of self deprecating humour but I think that the more I talk about my PND the more I can take steps to get through it. Plus I don't want it to be this to be a 'big dirty ...

For anyone not fluent in broad Yorkshire, 'owayer doing = how are you doing?  And you get asked this a lot after just having a baby. And here is what I say versus what I mean... "I'm so tired!" aka I am so sleep deprived I somehow managed to put my child's sleep suit on sideways. "Good considering!" aka good considering I am emotionally and mentally fragile. "Alreet thanks!" aka alreet currently but that's because she's fed, winded, changed and asleep. ask me again in a bit when I'm crying because I have no idea what I'm doing. "Shit" aka shit. Disclaimer: I am honest with my family and close friends when they ask me how I am. And despite my candidness above, I do love my child more than anything. 

I'm constantly finding myself talking in baby talk even when I am nowhere near my baby. I am also constantly talking to myself ever since she was born. But I think that's because my brain is so mushy that if I don't do that then I forget what I'm doing, who I am and my purpose in life. Also I'm getting "what if my child forgets who I am" paranoia... (the combination of baby blues, my sister passing away recently, history of depression and general anxiety/low confidence is to blame for that. Luckily the grandparents have been sleeping over to help out - thank god) ...where was I? Oh yeah, I'm terrified of my daughter forgetting who I am and/or not bonding properly therefore I am just calling myself mummy ALL THE TIME. Even in the 3rd person. Even when I'm the only person in the room. So in summary, I am already babbling in baby talk 24/7. And it's ok to admit your mental health is suffering and to get help! Even if it feels like you'...