Kangaroo Spotting

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

PND, A Partner's Perspective

Sponsored by Bupa Australia.

My husband, Matthew is a problem solver. He is a project manager and is responsible for millions of dollars’ worth of contracts, hundreds of employees and working-around potentially expensive mistakes.

When Matt couldn’t fix my postnatal depression he felt helpless, not a familiar feeling for a bloke like him. Not only was I difficult to live with at the time but I was so absorbed in my own struggle that I was unable to see just how much my pain was tearing him up inside.

Women who experience postnatal depression (PND) need a lot of support, that’s a given. But I think we need to acknowledge what the partners go through as well. Dads and partners also live with the illness and can even experience PND themselves.

I spent most of my time and energy trying to look like a normal, joyful mother while out in public but when my husband walked through the door at night I had nothing left for him. I couldn’t even pretend. He always had me at my absolute worst.

I snapped easily, my mood swings were unpredictable, and usually because Matt was the person in my firing line he copped all of it. And the resentment- oh the resentment!

In the early days I was jealous of his hour commute and lunch breaks (when he actually had time to take them) because at least he got to be alone or speak to adults.

One morning as he was leaving for work, I was feeding our daughter while crying my eyes out. He offered to make me a cup of tea and even though I would have liked one, I said, “No! Just go ahead and leave, just leave us!”

What a horrible thing for him to hear as he was preparing for a stressful day of work. Even writing about that morning makes my eyes misty. The poor guy was simply trying to show me how much he cared.

Dads want to enjoy it too

I’m well aware of my privilege. I have a supportive husband with a great job, I live in a beautiful house and we are comfortable. That’s the thing about PND though, unfortunately, it does not discriminate.

Something I heard at a postnatal depression talk will stick with me forever because I felt like the woman was speaking about me.

“Sometimes the mums who appear to have it all together are the ones who are struggling the most.”

And though this is true, standing next to that mum is a partner who is also struggling.

We are a closer family thanks to The Parent & Baby Wellbeing Program

How can we better support partners of PND sufferers?

Labels: anxiety, Family, health, Identity, motherhood, parenting, Post Natal Depression, Pregnancy

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Moving Forward and Travelling Far

As I prepare to fly to my hometown for the first time in over a year, I'm reminded of how far I've come in my battle with post natal depression and anxiety.

This time a year ago I vowed to be more honest with myself and to everyone around me. A vital and important step. No point in keeping up appearances or pretending to be strong.

Don't Label Yourself

In my second therapy session I asked my psych for a diagnosis. She told me that it is unclear so early on and asked why it mattered. Looking back, I didn't need to know in order to heal. Screw labels. I did not ask her again because I stopped worrying about it.

Based on my experience, if you're unsure whether you're suffering from PND, anxiety or otherwise, just talk to someone anyway. Paying a third party to listen to your troubles is invaluable no matter what you call it. You don't need to come out as 'depressed,' let's leave that to legends like the courageous Caitlyn Jenner. We Mother's can be everyday hero's simply by talking about post natal issues- that way everyone would feel a lot less stigmatized.

So what did I learn?

I learned to trust myself. To venture out into the world again. That sometimes people say things tinged with judgement but it could just be my own interpretation.

I learned to wrangle unhelpful thoughts before they completely derail, taking my mood with them. I can focus on the bigger picture and understand how to achieve goals, even if it's one as small as getting through the day.

I learned to become confident in myself as a mother- even though I have no real idea what I'm doing. My cheerful daughter is proof that I am managing to fumble through with enough love and respect to feel positive about the whole experience.

I learned to let go of past hurts, for real, and am working on the second most important mother-daughter relationship in my life- the one I have with my own.

In many ways my last trip to Buffalo was a disaster. It started before we even got off the ground- nerves about the flight, driving myself crazy about what to pack, how to carry everything, if it would negatively affect my baby. I didn't write about it much because I was in survival mode. And you'll never guess what happened...we survived.

This time I'm not even nervous about the journey. I know to expect a level of (toddler sized) difficulty, and if it exceeds those expectations for better or worse we will deal. There is no point worrying about the things we cannot control- yes, I just said that (the control freak that I am.)

My family has experienced loss and heartache since the last time I was on US soil. This trip is bigger than a visit, more than a hello. In many ways it's about saying goodbye, getting the closure, support, and familiarity that only roots can provide. I live everyday without the whole other half of my life around me. I need to go be whole again for a while.

I'm coming for you Buffalo, with my arms and heart wide open.

{If you or someone you know suffers from post natal anxiety or depression please seek help. I can speak for the resources here in Australia and they are outstanding. I can only hope there is something comparable in the USA however its probably locally based and you'll have to do some searching. Let's not forget that Father's can suffer from it as well.}

In Australia
Bupa Parent and Baby Wellbeing Program (This is the program I participated in)
Beyond Blue

Labels: anxiety, ExPat Life, Family, Post Natal Depression, Travel

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Preventative Maintenance

Our Easter staycation was something I had been looking forward to since my Grandmother passed. Peace, quiet and chocolate. But something felt off with me. I was flat and zombielike rather than excited.

Friday was an early wake up call- Lavinia was up at 5:20 (I finally figured out she was waking early because of being cold- can I get a hallelujah for thinking of adding an extra nightly layer!) So I had a sluggish start to my half-day volunteering at the Good Friday Appeal which raises money for the Royal Women and Children's hospital of Melbourne. My good friend works for the appeal and it always amazes me how dedicated she is. Every year in the lead up to Easter I don’t see or hear from her because she’s eating, breathing and working. The appeal raised over 17 million in one day which is astounding (especially considering the hospital only services one State.)

Saturday Matt and I took Lavinia to the Queen Victoria Market. It was a perfect, bright, sunny Autumn morning but for some reason I was in a crankpot mood. I drove us there and forgot my wallet- no cash, no parking. I was losing patience and itching to take some photos with my new beast of a camera- the Cannon 70D (I'm in love with it but barely know how to use the thing.) It was never going to be a simple endeavour as we also had to shop for our Easter lunch and keep track of our 18 month old. Of course it didn’t help that I was hangry and decaffeinated by the time we hit the ATM. Recipe for disaster.

It took forever to get this one shot without strangers in it..an Easter miracle

My reaction to the frustrations of parking and the logistics of getting breakfast were a bit extreme...and familiar. Coincidentally I have just begun therapy again. Now that my depression and anxiety are under control it’s time to dig a little deeper and work on some of my ‘core messaging.’ I am hopeful that it will help me with the confidence I lack as I'm trying to carve out a path as artist and writer. I need to erase the old tape playing that says those things aren't worthwhile. Not that my career aspirations had anything to do with my mood on Saturday, but I think anger is my go-to reaction to frustration lately.

The big M, made of key-chains

In the end I'm really glad we went. It was stimulating for Lavinia, I got a few snaps and we bought some delicious treats for our first holiday meal as a family of three.

And speaking of food- I've been working like mad on a recipe index page. I wanted to talk about my own personal food philosophy (I could go on and on for days because I'm so passionate about nutrition) in a shorter, more digestible format (can't help it, love a pun) where I can link to the recipes I post on here. I feel incredibly lucky to have a partner who supports me emotionally and financially as I play around with my beloved blog.

It is because I love and respect this man so much that Tuesday was a difficult day for us. Matt had to get three (benign) cancerous BCC's removed from his forehead. And it's not the first time. He had one cut out less than a year ago and how has had about 14 total stitches on his poor head (not to mention the big one cut out of his back when I was pregnant.) I don't care how many times Australians tell me that BCC's are the 'good' type of skin cancer. I hear the ‘C’ word and it echoes in my bones. I worry about Matt and his pale, sun-soaked, skin and I worry about my daughter who has inherited his complexion. He was physically capable of doing most things after the minor surgery but I wanted him to rest, relax and heal. The best way I know how to do that is with TV and food. So that's what we did on Tuesday.

Daddy, Daughter, Doughnut

Wednesday was day care day. Lavinia seems to have finally gotten over the worst of her separation anxiety. High five! While I got started on another online blogging course BWP 2.0. It's an intensive follow up to the previous one (that’s how much I enjoyed it.) I love that the lessons arrive in my inbox first thing Wednesday mornings. I'm now planning my 'me time' around those lessons. I even squeezed in a little yoga DVD first to loosen up and get the creative juices flowing. I've really let exercise fall to the wayside lately, which is unlike me, and I think it’s added to my current lethargy.

Happiest point of the day...stopping for coffee

The days are getting shorter and colder but at least the sun shines almost every day- something I will never take for granted being born and raised in Buffalo where we would go weeks without seeing a break in the clouds. Maybe that’s just what I need to snap out of this funk- a figurative little break in the clouds...while wearing an SPF of course.

Somebody was mirroring Mommy's expression

Labels: anxiety, Art, Career, ExPat Life, healing, Post Natal Depression

Thursday, January 1, 2015

Most Popular Posts of 2014

From an internal makeover to an external one: http://bit.ly/1xwhN5t

Going public about my post natal depression and anxiety: http://bit.ly/1EMq1tr

Some of my PND risk factors explained (an intense post): http://bit.ly/1rCt5Cx

What I learned in my first year of parenting (giggles): http://bit.ly/1EMqWdr

The supportive response to my first post about PND: http://bit.ly/1K2VOXk

Labels: anxiety, healing, health, parenting, Post Natal Depression

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Get into the Spirit of Self Confidence

Forty Weeks

Four Weeks

I’m pleased to be taking recess from therapy for a few weeks. My last visit sounded more like a gossip session because not much was troubling me.

My reactions are becoming much more appropriate to specific situations these days. It is normal to freak out about taking Lavinia to the emergency room, not about going for a drive. Progress.

I went from having a couple good days now and then, to a couple bad days now and then.

Since my brain is behaving, I am devoting my energy to physical health. After all, the two are not separate.

I’m at an age where I place no faith in diets. Tell me I can’t have something and I want it all the more. Over the years I have learned that as long as I move my body, I can pretty much eat what I want. When I go overboard I repent- yesterday's nachos are today's steamed veggies.

I enjoy a mainly healthy lifestyle. Cooking relaxes me and exercise is my stress reliever (when I have time and motivation for it). Don’t get me wrong, I indulge. I looooove food. Any meal can be made better with melted cheese on top. Carbs are not the devil. And don’t forget the wine. "Everything in moderation, including moderation itself," (Oscar Wilde).

Because I battled with a thyroid disease since age 14 I understand the emotional ups and downs that accompany numbers on a scale. As a result I don’t do scales either. No diets and no scales. I try to tune in to what my body craves, put on my sneakers and run from temptation...most of the time.

When I got pregnant just shy of my 32^nd birthday I wigged. At 30 I was finally comfortable in my own skin and now this innocent little intruder was going to wreck it. A big, fat, test of my body-image belief system.

After weeks of struggling internally I was forced to let the pregnancy do it's natural thing while I adjusted my ideas of what health and beauty looked like. Society expects pregnant women to be these buff little Momma's with toned arms. Two long legs with a beach-ball stuffed beneath a fashionable figure-hugging maternity top. Well guess what? That's not how it works.

Every pregnancy is as unique as every human body. Rather than try to look like that ideal svelte-figure smuggling a soccer-ball, I decided to focus on the health of the little nugget inside me. I exercised, not to prevent weight gain, but to get oxygen flowing through my blood and into my fetus. I gulped down vitamins, drank spirulina smoothies and nettle tea (and of course, gave into my cake cravings).

I lovingly absolved myself from pressure to bounce back after Lavinia was born. It takes nine months to put the baby-weight on, it’s only practical that it should take another nine to remove it.

Fast forward: Now that I finally had the time to think about myself again, I felt weak, squishy and fatigued. Rather than a focus on 'losing those last few pounds' my goals became- better sleep, better moods, more energy.

I joined a gym with child-minding and a month ago started training with a female bodybuilder. It’s really hard work trying to catch up to where I was before I got pregnant. Every training day I wake up and want to cancel...but I haven’t missed one session. My strength and confidence are returning with every bench press.

Forget ideals, forget unrealistic expectations or comparisons. Worship at the alter of good health and well-being!

I will be sharing before and after photos at the end of October. Check out my results here!

One week before Lavinia was born

Labels: anxiety, Fitness, healing, health, Post Natal Depression, Pregnancy

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

The Easy Tears of a New Mother

I sobbed this morning after dropping Lavinia at day care for the third time. Not sure why because on the first two occasions I was fist-pumping.

To begin with, it’s been over a month since she attended. She was sick for a few weeks plus the centre was closed during school holidays. My mother-in-law has been helping out heaps so I didn't feel the desperate need for a break.

That last longing glance over my shoulder, I saw my baby looking back at me. Sigh.

The lip quiver started while I walked, baby-less, to my car. Parents weaved around me rushing to drop-off their own kids. Not one tear between them. I’m sure it gets easier over time. Yet still not sure about the day three waterworks? I’ve always been a slow emotion-processor (my darn stubborn-Italian half.)

I drove home among commuters with a seriously ugly, wet, cry-face. And even after a good sesh at the gym I still felt a bit weepy.

So with sore quads, a clean kitchen, and a few nights meals socked away, I excitedly went to grab my little bug hours later. Two or three of the carers commented on Vinnie’s boundless energy one referred to her as a “pocket-rocket” (now I feel justified for being exhausted all the time!)

They told me about her day and that they let Lavinia crawl laps outside and apparently she freaking loved it. During the car ride home she babbled to me sternly..Telling me all about it maybe? (I always think she sounds like she’s chastising me for leaving her but maybe it’s because she’s unhappy about being strapped into her car seat).

When we arrived home she started tearing around the house making brand new sounds.....After one afternoon! This kid is going to be speaking in sentences soon, thanks to her new friends. No doubt childcare is good for her development, I can see it before my very eyes.

She’s still quite overstimulated and it's late in the day. Right now she’s lying in her crib, babbling, but at least she’s not yelling and gnawing more paint off the bars. Go to sleep kid, you need to recharge! She doesn't seem to think so. Guess we can live without an afternoon nap.

Overall today was a great day. I'll chalk my unexpected emotions up to what I call, 'The New Mom Shift,' its when you cry during commercials, the evening news ect. Becoming a parent makes you soft. It connects you so deeply to the world that you feel like your heart is made of porcelain.

Fingers crossed, the fourth time will be a tear-free charm.

Labels: anxiety, healing, health, parenting, Post Natal Depression

Monday, June 30, 2014

Child Care, the Benefit and the Burden

I have dark circles around my eyes and not the fun kind. The last time I left the house was over seven days ago.

We've been forced into hibernation again. This time the culprit is a nasty virus- barely preferable to depression....but it's lurking in the walls of our self-imposed incarceration.

I’m not sure where she picked up the bug, but it hit Lavinia Sunday evening and by midnight we were in the Emergency Room.

What started with a runny nose escalated into vomiting and fever. The thermometer wasn't reading accurately and a house call could have taken hours.

At 3:30 am behind a curtain and beneath florescent lights I held my naked baby whom Matt just shushed to sleep, a small container poised to collect urine beneath her. Her warm, pink body so vulnerable in my arms, it was like holding onto my insides.

My neck and back were aching from the plastic chair we perched in. I silently begged her to pee so we could test it and take her home. I was already covered with vomit and snot- what’s another gross bodily fluid? It was a new low point.

At least Matt was there for this, our second ER visit that week (for a possible concussion days earlier.) Unfortunately the only available target for my frustration and helplessness I shot daggers at my husband for not being able to locate the doctor.

We took our baby home at 4 am and put her to bed.

Twenty-four hours later, Matt caught the virus and by the next weekend, I had it too.

It’s possible Lavinia caught the bug from childcare. And why deny myself the chance to feel guilty about it?

I enrolled Lavinia in ‘Occasional Care,’ a five hour session, one day per week. I loved the idea of autonomy. A chance to make appointments without checking with someone else first. A break. Time to rest. To create. To exercise or to take naps.

Seemingly a stroke of brilliance, I still struggled with the concept. It felt selfish. I’m on maternity leave- how dare I put Lavinia in the care of strangers? And pay for the privilege? What would people think?

My mother in law is always willing to come down when we need her- even if just for sleep, but I just can’t justify asking her to make the four-hour-round-trip so I can shave my legs and watch an episode of Orange is the New Black. That’s not cool.

Even so, I felt like I needed a few hours to do stupid things. I knew something had to give when I started feeling jealous of Matt’s commute to and from work.

Lavinia has been to childcare twice so far. After returning home from dropping her off the first time, I pulled into our driveway alone. I did not race to unlock the door, grab bags or unbuckle the car seat. There were a million things I could do, free from so many burdens.

I sat in the drivers seat. Engine off. On my phone. Looking at Facebook.

Once I gathered the courage to enter our quiet home, I immediately turned my ringer on in case the carers called me. Reminding myself to maximize the next few hours, I took a long shower (phone within reach), cooked a hot breakfast and wrote a blog post. Next minute, it was time to go pick up Lavinia.

Giddy with excitement I drove back to the childcare center early (as planned) and found Lavnia had charmed everyone in the place. She napped, had a bottle, a snack, lunch, and played with the other little kids. She was so tired and happy that when we got home she took a long afternoon nap.

If you ask me, this was a successful first day for both of us.

I’m sure it will get easier each time- like a prisoner fresh out of jail, I need to reintegrate myself into the community.

I used to think that by saying; ‘childcare is good for development and social skills,’ working parents were just trying to make themselves feel better. Now I realize it’s a true statement.

Lavinia lit up when we walked into the place on her second day of childcare. She was delighted at the sight of the older kids and practically leapt into the arms of a young carer.

The "day care solution" will not fix everything. Five hours flip by surprisingly fast but it’s a start.

I will still have to rely on my village, but if it makes me happier, this indulgent, weekly respite will benefit my entire family.

Ahh Choo!

You look like you need a tissue Mommy

Labels: anxiety, healing, motherhood, Post Natal Depression

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Everything's Fine

“I’m fine.”

Chances are when you get that in response to a question, it’s untrue.

It’s definitely not true if you ever hear me say it.

Lately I have been thinking about honesty. It’s such a difficult thing to be sometimes, honest. I care too much about what people think, which is why it’s taken me so long to start writing again.

When you worry about what people think, you censor yourself. In a recent post I wrote some things that were hurtful to people I love deeply. They were wounded by my words. I am not proud of this.

The truth is often subjective. I look at life through the biased lens of my own experience. I meant it when I said that depression is selfish because when I’m depressed I tend to take things so damn personally (as if it’s all about me all the time).

It’s much easier to blame others for why we are feeling badly. It’s much harder to accept responsibility for over-analyzing or taking comments to heart. Last week I found myself in a dark place, pointing fingers at anyone but myself.

As a consequence of what I wrote, I had some difficult conversations with family members. Raw, uncomfortable and vulnerable.

I realized today that I dislike vulnerability. A lot. My mother raised me to be strong and tough so I wouldn't feel as much pain out in the world. As a result I tend to view vulnerability as a weakness.

I’m grateful those difficult conversations were had. I feel that they are just the beginnings of better, more honest communication. I am working on not pretending to be fine. On letting certain things slide. On creating some healthy distance between other people’s actions and my own heart.

I’d also like to stop being an expert at putting my game-face on. I can walk into a social setting, dripping with homesickness, devastated from an argument or stressed out about work- and the smiles and jokes would flow as if it were a normal day.

I barely made it to a talk called “Adjusting to New Parenting,” with my mother’s group. I was stressed and exhausted with my newborn at the time. I breezed in 10 minutes late, flustered and anxious but must have concealed it well.

The talk was actually about Post Natal Depression. The organizers gave it a different title in order to attract more people. There were three of us in attendance. Maybe word had gotten out. I remember someone making a comment, “Well since we are the ones who actually made it here, I don’t think we are the ones who need help.” She then proceeded to ask how she could help others who might be struggling.

I remember learning that day, usually the mothers who seem like they have it together are the ones struggling most.

Am I that person?

I have not told my Mother’s group about this blog or that I’m in counselling. I mean we talk about EVERYTHING in gory detail. Of all people who would be able to understand exactly what I’m going through....they would!

I spoke about this with my therapist today (who has grown on me quite a lot since my initial resistance). She asked me what I felt about not sharing with my Mother’s group. I squirmed in my seat like I squirm every time a caring friend asks me: “How are you doing?”

My first thought was maybe I’m just sick of talking about it....but I don’t think that’s honest. It’s actually the vulnerability I’m shying away from.

I’m now starting to see it takes more strength and courage to show weakness than it does to put a mask on and pretend "everything's fine.”

Labels: anxiety, ExPat Life, healing, health, parenting, Post Natal Depression

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Baby Flies to the Other Side of the World

Flying to the USA with my six-month-old was more difficult for me than it was for her. It taught me a few things I thought I already knew.

Travel is part of the journey. No matter what happens. I learned this during a disaster 20 hour trek from Milano to Stuttgart (perspective: it should have been a one hour flight).

Lavinia was too interested in the people sitting beside us to sleep. She wanted to take it all in and practically jumped into the lap of the Irish, Facebook sales-woman sitting next to us.

The few times I tried to put her in the bassinet for sleep she got upset- who wouldn’t? The thing looks like a dog’s cage. I freaked- I felt like a terrible mother for dragging her across the world. What on Earth would happen if she didn’t take her naps at her scheduled times? Would we both implode?

Lavinia was born wide-eyed. She started out staring at things intently before she could even focus her little newborn eyes. She would open them wide, rather than closing them in fear, when a shadow passed over her face or a new person came into view.

My curious little girl develops this trait further as she grows. She knows what she wants to examine and persists until something even more interesting distracts her.

The result of her staying awake for most of our journey from Melbourne to Buffalo? She was so tired that she adjusted to the 15 hour time change within three days. I had worse jet lag than she did.

I need to trust my daughter more. This seems like a very important lesson in parenting.

Melbourne

Los Angeles

Toronto

Buffalo

Back to Melbourne Like an Old Pro

Labels: anxiety, ExPat Life, healing, health, Post Natal Depression, Travel

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Label it and Put it in a Box

I asked my therapist if I will be diagnosed with post natal depression or anxiety or both.

As I spoke I realized- why do I need to know? What is this constant desire to label everything? It happens in society all the time. We label our careers, our sexuality, our social status.

Maybe if I fit into a category, there will be instructions on how to fix me.

So how did I get here? Could the physical rigors of being a new mom actually cause post natal issues? The mind and body are inexplicably linked so it makes sense that the newborn stage alone could make any sane person crazy. Isn't sleep deprivation a form of torture?

I wish I started documenting these feelings earlier so I could see my progress. By progress I mean gone are the mornings Matt would leave for work while tears streamed down my face. It's no coincidence that everyone in our house is getting more sleep lately.

Even though I don't feel hopeless most days, I must now deal with the residual effects of being in that state for the past few months. My thinking patterns have changed. I guess is why I asked the question- anxiety or depression- in the first place. Now I feel less depressed and more anxious.

But what’s the difference really? Just two different words, two different labels. I might not cry as much but my hands tremble when I'm running late. There is work to be done.

The short answer- I won't be "diagnosed," but I will continue to go to sessions as long as I feel they are helpful.

So many women I know have shared their own battles with me recently. These are women I respect. They are educated, successful and fun. Some are Moms (Mums) and some are not. Regardless, these women are constantly shadow boxing. We put so much pressure on ourselves that we have to fight to live up to our own expectations.

A good friend said to me recently; “You’re good at everything you do- what makes you think being a Mom will be any different?”

It’s a fair question. Maybe it’s because nothing else I’ve ever done in my life has mattered to me as much as this. And it's all relative.

More than anything else- I don't want Lavinia to learn to force herself into boxes or labels already created by society. Please my little baby, live outside the lines.

Labels: anxiety, healing, health, parenting, Post Natal Depression

Kangaroo Spotting

Kangaroo Spotting

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

PND, A Partner's Perspective

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Moving Forward and Travelling Far

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Preventative Maintenance

Thursday, January 1, 2015

Most Popular Posts of 2014

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Get into the Spirit of Self Confidence

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

The Easy Tears of a New Mother

Monday, June 30, 2014

Child Care, the Benefit and the Burden

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Everything's Fine

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Baby Flies to the Other Side of the World

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Label it and Put it in a Box

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