Author: sohereweare

So here I am. I am 24 year old originally from the Isle of Wight, where my amazing family still live. Mother to a little man called Arthur. Partner to Jordan. Nurse, friend, daughter. After having my little man I developed post-natal depression and anxiety. It was a very dark time in my life. I wanted to start this blog as an honest telling of my story and our future adventures. My goal is to tell the reality of motherhood, mental health and everything in between. I would love to help others with my story. Even if I help one person in the whole world I will have achieved something. Here there will be posts about explosive poos, travelling with a baby, tales of sleepless nights. But there will also be very honest tales of my mental health journey, where you can go for help, and the incredible people who helped me along the way. I'll show you my family, friends and my amazing partner Jordan. It will be a little snippet into my world. Please bare with me, I've never done this before, I'm not a write and I don't pretend to be. I'm a Mama, telling our story. You are welcome to come along for the ride. So here we are. Love Kate x

So I guess the world is a bit backwards.

So here I am. After I began telling my story I started to receive so many messages from other people telling me about their journey. I feel like in some ways I was very lucky with my story. I got the help I needed quickly, I still receive support now and almost every single person I met has wanted to help me and been kind to me. However I know that this is not everybody’s experience. People have spoken to me and explained how they were too afraid to speak out, how they were worried that nobody would understand, that there was no point in receiving help because it wouldn’t make any difference. This makes me feel so sad. This is 2018. Why are we still living in a world where people are too afraid to explain how they feel? Too afraid to ask for help because they don’t think they will receive it.

It does not make sense that this is still happening. It doesn’t make sense that you can only be in crisis Monday to Friday 9-5. What about at 3 in the morning on a Sunday when you can’t sleep, your crying because your thinking about taking a knife from the kitchen and hurting yourself? It doesn’t make sense. I have heard many people have bad experiences. People who have had a 3 minute phone call when they have reached out because they are attempting to take their life. People who have been told by their GP that they have received all the help they can have and there is nothing more that can be done for them. Right because when you have mental health illness it’s usually for a really short time, your fixed in no time and you never need anymore support…erm…yeah, no it’s not like that at all.

I’m writing this post to say no matter how many times you feel like nobody wants to help you, or they will judge you or you don’t deserve help, YOU DO. There will always be professionals who will go above and beyond to help you. I know this because I’ve seen it, I have experienced it. I know it is easy for me to say because I had a positive experience but please don’t give up on yourself. When I first become unwell when I walked into A&E and the receptionist asked me what’s the problem today, I looked at her and said – I want to kill myself. I then went into A&E and assured them I could not go home, if I did I would kill myself. They didn’t let me go. I was there for 24 hours, you are only suppose to be in A&E for 4 hours, unless of course somebody is to unwell to be transferred. The point is, I was terrified but I was adamant that I needed help. That help saved my life. Please know their will be somebody out there who will help save your life. Whether it’s a whole team or one individual, reach out. Call your GP, call the out of hours GP. Speak to charities like Mind or Samaritans. Speak to your health visitor, your midwife, the community mental health team and if you are in immediate danger, go to A&E. It is an emergency and you are NOT wasting anybody’s time.

Remember if you feel unsafe, tell someone, anyone. You will get help. Go somewhere where you won’t be alone, be with family or friends.

Times are changing, but we still have a long way too go. I know if I help one person in the world I will have achieved something good. Stay tuned peeps.

Love, Kate x

So it’s the little things.

So here we are. Being a mother is the hardest thing I have ever done. I have found a whole new level of respect for my mum who had 7 (yes, 7) kids. She not only had 7, but she also totally bossed it on her own. She’s a superwoman and my biggest inspiration.

It may be the hardest thing but it’s also the greatest. I decided to make a list of some of the little things I love about being a Mum…

⁃ The firsts…first smile, first time Arthur grabbed a toy

⁃ The poo face gets me every time

⁃ The smile he gives me when he first wakes up in the morning

⁃ When he’s sucking his dummy and he just stares at me

⁃ How he loves singing

⁃ His smile in general

⁃ The noises he makes when he eats

⁃ How he loves bath time

⁃ Taking pictures together

⁃ Cuddles

⁃ When he’s feeding and he keeps holding on to me

⁃ Seeing him smile at his family

⁃ When he goes all shy, smiles then puts his head down

⁃ Reading stories together

⁃ How he loves mouths (not just his own, everyone’s, he’s fascinated!)

⁃ How clapping makes him blink

⁃ Dancing together

⁃ How he’s like a little hot water bottle

⁃ That crossed eyed surprise look

⁃ All the noises

⁃ Travelling, going places together, anywhere!

⁃ All the tickling!

⁃ When he farts really loudly (mature I know hehe)

⁃ On the subject of farting, when he lifts his legs really high and farts hehe

⁃ His chubby cheeks

⁃ Those tiny fingers and toes ❤️

I could go on forever. Joy will come to different people in different ways, whether your a parent or not. For me, Arthur, you are my joy. You have brought me so much love, laughter and I could not be more proud of you. Thank you for teaching me to enjoy the little things. You are my greatest achievement, now and forever.

Stay tuned for another one peeps.

Love, Kate x

So always trust your instincts.

So there we were. Arthur went through a lot at the beginning of his life. He had rotavirus, norovirus twice and bronchiolitis leading to a hospital admission. Every time he got ill my anxiety would go through the roof and I would often feel very low in mood. I feel like we battled a lot and if we hadn’t of faced everything that we did we might have got home sooner and I might have been in recovery sooner. But what matters is that we’re here now. But for now let me tell you why I think we should always trust our instincts…

I remember when Arthur first got rotavirus. He was pooing every hour. I knew straight away something wasn’t right. He pooed about 3-4 times in the day and maybe once or twice in the evening but the first day he just could not stop. I remember telling them on the unit and they suggested they would have a look next time he went. So they looked and said it looked really normal for a breastfeed baby. They said how often babies could poo once a week one week and then several times a day the next week. Something still didn’t feel right but we carried on. He seemed well in himself and was still feeding, nothing else was out of the ordinary. The next day, the pooping seemed to of died down a little, however a member of staff asked if they could take a poo sample next time which of course I agreed too. They said they just wanted to check. Then somebody else said they didn’t need too. So they didn’t.

A couple of days passed and he was still pooing more than usual and I flagged it up again, my gut instinct was telling me something wasn’t quite right and I became very worried that he would become dehydrated and start loosing weight. Eventually they approached me and took a poo sample which I happily gave, the next day it came back as positive for rotavirus and Arthur had to be put in isolation. When you suffer from anxiety I think at times it can be hard to see what is a real worry and what is not. I know sometimes it can manifest itself convincing you there is something wrong when there isn’t. But I think we should always trust our instincts. Whether your a parent or not.

Unfortunately Arthur became quite unwell with rotavirus and began vomiting and not wanting to feed much. I remember I started to cry late one night and couldn’t sleep because he kept vomiting. I was convinced he was going to choke whilst he was sleeping. I felt like I had to watch him all night which I know was not rational but at that time I couldn’t think rationally. Immediately I thought of the worst case scenario and was convinced I was going to lose him. It was a horrible time and I had to do a lot of talking through it. That’s what anxiety does, it creates a tornado inside your head, it’s exhausting.

Thankfully we got through it. Our next big battle was bronchiolitis. Watching you baby struggle to breathe is the hardest, most horrible thing. Breathing is something we all do, for most of us it’s not hard, it’s easy. When your tiny baby is using all their strength and muscles just to breathe, words can’t describe it. Arthur started with a cold and the cough gradually got worse. Then he started to struggle to breathe, he was really working hard with every breath. I told them I was concerned and we went to A&E. His respiratory rate and his pulse was up and you could see how hard he was working to breathe. They diagnosed him with Bronchiolitis but said because his oxygen levels were okay and he was still feeding we could go back to the unit but we could return if we were concerned again.

I will never forget what happened next. When we got back to the unit he was exhausted, we put him to sleep and me and Jord both closed our eyes too. Arthur was making a lot of noise when he was breathing but suddenly it went quiet. Me and Jord both realised at the same time, we looked at each other and both jumped up, we rushed over to him, Jord put his hand on Arthur and he gasped and starting breathing again. That moment will always haunt me. Words cannot describe how scared we both were. I barely slept that night, constantly watching him, terrified it would happen again, thankfully it didn’t.

Arthur did however continue to get worse. He didn’t want to feed, he was fighting really hard and I knew people thought it was my anxiety that was making the situation seem worse that what it was. However I decided we needed to back to hospital, this was the third time. When we got there, Arthur’s respiratory rate was high, his pulse was 190-200, and his oxygen level was 84%. They gave him oxygen and it gradually went up to around 92%. We would have to stay in hospital. I was relieved that they were finally doing something because all that time I felt hopeless just watching him struggle, but I was also heartbroken that he was in this situation in the first place.

All the things he has faced he has fought so hard. But I remember feeling so angry. I felt like I was being punished for something. My little boy, who had barely been in the world had already faced so much that he shouldn’t have and I didn’t I understand why?! It didn’t seem fair. I blamed myself. Part of me still does. But I know now that young babies do get ill. Their little immune systems are still growing. I remember looking at him in his massive cot in the hospital just wishing that he didn’t have to go through anything else. I would have done anything to take his place. For the first two days I didn’t even hold him, he had no physical strength left and he would just lie in his cot, tilted upright to feed and then he would just fall straight back to sleep. It was heartbreaking. But once again I was in awe of how strong he was. How brave he was.

When he was discharged from hospital we were so happy. He was so much better. However as the evening went on I became more and more anxious. I realised we went in the hospital with all the nurses and doctors. There wasn’t the equipment we needed there if something went wrong. It came to the night time and I couldn’t put him down. Convinced he was going to stop breathing if I did, I explained I was never putting him down. Something that was impossible but I just couldn’t face it. I was crying and so scared that I couldn’t think rationally. My anxiety was rearing it’s ugly head once again. It was consuming me. With the help of the staff and Jord I managed to calm down. It took time but eventually I put Arthur down. Day by day he improved and got through it.

My anxiety heightened moments of these bad situations. But I knew something wasn’t right with our boy. I knew he was going to need a little bit of help to get through this and I am so glad I trusted my instincts with the bronchiolitis and kept going back to hospital. I am a nurse but I’m an adult nurse. I don’t know babies, but I know my son. Trust that you know your babies and children. If your pregnant and worried about telling your midwife something, trust you know your body, and you know your unborn child.

Even if your not a parent or a parent to be, trust yourself, trust your instincts, go with your gut.

Stay tuned for next time peeps.

Love, Kate x

So yeah, then I pooed myself, twice.

So there I was. Yes, yes you did read the title correctly. This post is also very honest, but it’s about something different. So after having Arthur it seemed all my bodily functions were a bit all over the place.

I had to have a catheter when I was in hospital because I had a spinal injection (such a lovely thing). I was completely numb from the waist down so I wasn’t going to feel when I needed to wee. I’m not going to lie…That first night, not having to get up to pee, it was amazing haha. I was so exhausted and I could just lie there in bed, feed and cuddle Arth and that was it. I could reciprocate a little.

After having Arthur I felt like my dignity wasn’t really there any more. When you have a baby they really don’t tell you how many people will see your body parts! Not just your foo-foo (yeah that’s right I said foo-foo) but also your bum, your boobs, your jelly tummy, everything! When my catheter was taken out I thought how I really didn’t mind people seeing down there any more. I also thought i would be okay going for a wee. So I didn’t go for one for ages. I needed to go but I was feeding Arthur on and off and I thought – oh I’ll be fine to hold it for a while. Wow how wrong was I! Yep you guessed it, I peed myself too. And I’m not just talking about a little, I mean the whole sha-bang haha.

Peeing myself was a low point for me and I cried and cried. Your probably wondering why I am telling you all this? I guess I just want to get the message out there that it’s okay to cry if you pee yourself after having a baby! I’m not saying you definitely will but you might and if you want to cry about it you bloody well can! If you want to laugh you can do that too! It’s your body and in that moment, for me, I felt like I had no control over it any more. I was scared this would be a permanent problem. But thankfully it isn’t. But if it happens to you, it happens. I felt like I had absolutely no dignity left but the midwives were so lovely. They understand, they’ve seen it all before.

Then, I pooed myself. Yep. Twice. At this point I cried again a little and then I just laughed. Everybody does it once or twice in their lifetime right haha?! I realised then my body needed a bit of adjusting after having a baby. I also realised I needed to cut myself some slack. And when I felt like I needed the toilet I should go right away haha. I had a third degree tear, I needed to let my body recover, and in time, it did.

The thing is, childbirth is an incredible thing, but your body usually does need time to recover. Some people will not poo themselves a couple days after having their babe, some people will. Some will poo themselves in labour, some won’t. You might have to wear adult nappy pants, or be on bed rest. You might snap right back to your original weight. You might have a tummy like jelly. You might love your new boobs, you might not. Could have wonky boobs. The point is – it’s all okay. Be kind to yourself. Housing a human for 9 months is hard, then you have to get them out one way or another. But trust me, they are so worth it, poo an all.

Also if you want to stay in bed for a week that’s cool too. You want to get out there and see family and friends, do it. You have to figure what’s right for you. Everybody is different. But it’s okay to live in joggers for a while, to have family cook for you, and help you clean. It’s all okay.

So I thought I would do a slightly lighter story. But still a very true one. Stay tuned peeps.

Love, Kate x

So anxiety really does suck.

So here’s a different part to the story.

So I was in Nottingham MBU for 2 weeks. It was two very up and down weeks. But immediately when I was there I felt so much safer. I started to feel like I didn’t need to harm myself anymore. I started to feel hope. I started to feel like I wanted to live again. I still had a long way to go, but there was something there. Something was starting. However another part of my illness was anxiety.

As a parent you expect to feel some anxiety about this tiny little human you are suddenly sorely responsible for. I was very scared of many things. Feeding – was he getting enough breast milk? Was he putting on enough weight? Was he happy breastfeeding? Then there was (and still is) anxiety regarding Arthur’s health. What if he gets too hot or too cold whilst sleeping? How long should we swaddle him for, will it affect his hips? What if he’s sick whilst he’s laying down? What if he becomes unwell? My mind was like a whirlwind. The more anxiety I had, the downer I felt.

I felt like I couldn’t even go to the toilet without someone constantly watching Arthur. I couldn’t sleep. I would watch him breathe all night. Terrified of SIDs or also known as Cot death. (Still a very big fear) But it was a vicious cycle, I felt like I couldn’t put him down so I didn’t eat much, or drink. I couldn’t sleep so was exhausted and the anxiety and the low mood would just go round and round. Slowly I started to improve almost every day. With talking to professionals, the help of my partner, my family and my medication. And of course, being with Arthur.

The cuddles and the bond we continued to build on every single day would bring me so much love. He was worth fighting for. After two weeks I was moved to Winchester MBU for a further 7 weeks. Although such a short period of time in my life, it felt like forever. It felt so long and at times, very exhausting.

In our time at the beginning of Arthur’s life we battled many things. Mastitis, three times, once I was very unwell and had to have antibiotics. Rotavirus, me and Arth both had that one. Norovirus twice for Arth, once for me. We had trouble breastfeeding, he has gaining weight so well all the time, but we just couldn’t crack it. Arthur had bronchiolitis. He had to spend 3 nights on a paediatric ward, needing oxygen. I had problems with my medication. Difficulty with Arthur sleeping on his own at night. We conquered them all. Some things you would expect in those first couple of months, some you wouldn’t. But we made it.

The anxiety is still there. But I manage it much better now. My biggest tip? Stop, take a deep breath. Anxiety is a horrible thing. And so hard for other people to understand. I remember there was poster in my room on the MBU that said about safe sleeping. On their own, on their backs, in their cot. I used to read it over and over again every day. It was so hard for me because I couldn’t sleep when Arthur was in the same room as me but I also struggled to sleep when he wasn’t there. When he was there I would watch him, kept checking if he was breathing, if he felt too hot. If I drifted off I would wake with every movement he made, every little noise. I had to have medication to help me sleep. It wasn’t a sleeping tablet but it was an anti-anxiety medication. However it basically did just know me out, but I didn’t really realise this till later on. Gradually this improved and now I don’t take any medication to help with sleeping. I started to have Arthur in with me a couple of hours a night. Then a few days a week. Till gradually he was in with me all the time, he would only go out if I couldn’t settle him, which was only occasionally. Now most nights he sleeps really well and he’s always right there with us.

I remember telling my partner Jord about the poster. He grabbed the poster and threw it on top of the wardrobe. I will always remember that. It was brilliant. It really helped. I still thought about it but with it not being right in front of me all the time I could think about something else. I could put it out of my mind for a little while. Although Jord often didn’t understand my very irrational anxious rants he would try and help in any way that he could. He was and still is an incredible person.

Anxiety is a horrible feeling. It eats away at you. Although you know you are often blowing things out of portion and being irrational you can’t stop. In that moment you can’t be rational. You can’t see what everyone else can see. But know this, you can get out the other side. I did. I am living proof. I still have anxiety and with time comes all new anxieties but you can manage them. You can live with them. You don’t have to let them rule your life. Being a parent, you will have anxiety, it’s a given. It’s worrying if you don’t have a little bit of anxiety. Being a parent is scary! These mini humans always keep you on your toes. But don’t let anxiety stop you from being happy. Don’t let it stop you from making wonderful memories. That goes for whether you’re a parent or not. It goes for everyone.

There are so many things to help with anxiety. Mindfulness, distraction, facing your fears, breathing techniques. However if your reading this and you know someone who struggles with anxiety, know this; sometimes the best thing you can do for that person – Listen, give them your hand, and tell them you are there for them. Let them speak, let them cry. Just be there.

So that’s another part of our journey. Stay tuned for another round peeps.

Love, Kate x