Small things that can do lots of damage

Yes I’m talking about words. What you speak can do so much damage. And the damage can last much longer than you ever realise. Knowing I’ve upset or hurt someone with my words intentionally or not plagues my mind for days. Similarly being hurt by the words of friends can take weeks or even months to go away. Or even if you think the hurt has gone, it doesn’t take much to resurrect it.

I know that there are times currently where I can be more sensitive to what people say, but I also know my closest friends are aware of this. But that hasn’t stopped people saying things without thinking. Little comments about how my children are dressed, or a mark on their faces or that I’ve not wiped their nose instantly could all upset me. It left me, and still can leave me, feeling judged.

But I’ve also witnessed how social media especially means words can be really damaging. I’ll never forget how it felt when I was single but desperately wanted not to be, and I had friend after friend posting they were “in a relationship with” or “engaged to”. And while I was happy for them, it could be hard to read.

Pregnancy announcements could be the same. Knowing how others could be hurting because of their own situations that you or I are not aware of made me be very cautious. And again while I will celebrate with friends in their joy, it doesn’t take away the pain. This pain, hurt, jealousy, etc isn’t new, but before social media it was easier to manage. You can only control to a point what you can see when you log in.

I do share on social media, but I choose who I share things with. Not everyone can see everything I post and that’s my choice. I choose who sees lots of images of my children. I choose who can see my blog post notifications. I choose what I post generally. And I carry the responsibility for those choices.

Commitment…as a wife, parent, friend, colleague

I’ve been thinking about commitment a lot over the last couple of weeks, as my eldest child turned 18. I made a commitment to him from the moment he was born that he would always come first. And I really hope that I’ve always kept that promise. That promise didn’t mean he always got what he wanted, or that he liked everything I said or did, but I meant that he was always a the forefront of my choices and plans.

And now that he’s turned 18, that commitment doesn’t end. And because he has 2 siblings that commitment doesn’t change. I have to change to adapt to putting my children and their individual needs first, and work out the compromises that need to be made. Within that, I also have my commitment to my husband. He is my best friend and my partner for life. He will be along side me long after all our children have flown the nest. My commitment to him is to keep investing in us through the tough times as well as the great times.

Anyone who truly knows me, will know that I give my 100% commitment to everything that I do. Be it friendship, work, hobbies, faith, life. That is a core part of who I am. As a result I don’t have a huge circle of friends, but those I have I give everything to. A lunch or coffee date will take priority as I give them my time. I know how much someone giving their time to me like that matters to me, so I value it when I give it to others too. Yes this can set me up for hurt, but it is a core part of me.

My commitment to my younger children means commitment to the menial tasks like making meals, sterilising bottles, providing them with a safe home environment, feeding them, clothing them. But it also means a commitment to being there forever. You can’t turn off being a parent just because they reach a certain milestone, but you can change how you relate and behave.

So take your commitments seriously. Especially to other people. You are probably unaware of how much others value it.

Allergies take 3! (and more!!)

Check out KFA's _22 Things We With You Could Understand About Food Allergies__

People asked when I was pregnant, what was the chance of the baby having the same allergies as my toddler. It really was 50/50. 2 weeks in, and we already had the first bit of the answer….3 out of 3 children had CMPA. A dairy allergy. In a space of 6 hours I watched my contented baby turn into a miserable, writhing in pain little girl, producing nappies that were not “normal”.

I was so grateful that I had a supportive Health Visitor, who straight away put  my daughter on to the NHS allergy pathway, with a referral to the dietitian, and we made an instant appointment with the GP.

But one thing we didn’t know was how severe her allergy to cows milk protein was, or whether it would be her only allergy. What we did know was that this meant that weaning was going to have to be the allergy led method again. Following on from dietitian advice, we started with our son’s known “safe” foods, trying to build up a base of foods, before testing some of his allergens.

I’ll never forget the day I went for the first of his known allergens. I was nervous. Knowing that this could cause my daughter pain or worse, was not a great feeling. But I had to do it. We were lucky. The first one we tried was apple, and all was ok! Phew! And we tried that because it is added to so much that it was a bonus if she could have it. Maybe I then thought it wouldn’t be so bad or my mind just thought lets go for it, but I then tried another allergen. This time it was one where my son was allergic to  a whole food “family”. The first time seemed ok, so we went on for attempt 2. That night, we did not get much sleep. She was so unhappy. In pain, drawing her legs up, crying, unsettled. We thought it was the sweet potato, but to be sure, we had to try again a week or so later. And yes, it happened again. One little girl, very unhappy. And so her allergen list started.

What we have found is that when she has gut based reactions, they are generally more severe than her brother’s. For example, she can’t tolerate even medical grade coconut products, but her brother can. She can’t tolerate any fish we have tried, her brother can tolerate white fish but not oily fish. She can’t even cope with peppercorns or ground pepper from the nightshade family, he can cope with a little.

But we’ve also got a little girl that doesn’t like to have lumps in her food. After 3 months of introducing food, she will finally have a bit of texture, but this has been an additional challenge. The dietitian recommended focusing on textures over new foods, as this was more important, so the introduction of new foods has gone on hold. We’ve got many more things to try.

So it’s actually been trickier this time round. We don’t have all the answers for our daughter yet and we don’t know if it will be worse than our son or better. But we know it’s currently a very similar path. If we go away, even for 1 night, we take 2 bottles of antihistamines, 2 inhalers, snacks and milk for both children, probiotics to help their guts. The list goes on. Currently there is no epi pen in the kit, but that doesn’t mean their won’t ever be. I’m just grateful that neither has had a reaction that needs one.

So, life as an allergy mum continues. And the one thing I am grateful for is the fact that if nothing else I can be a support to others who are journey some of a similar path.

Check out KFA's _22 Things We With You Could Understand About Food Allergies__ (1)

A fine line….

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I’m discovering how there is a really fine line between me feeling up and me feeling down. I often don’t know when I am close to teetering over the line. I am starting to recognise the triggers though. As I posted a few days ago, I have had a really positive few days. But I also knew that this didn’t mean I was permanently back on the up.

This afternoon I have felt myself sliding back down. Parenting three children (and yes my teenager is still my child) is a juggling act. As I have said before, all 3 have different needs and demands on my time. This week I have been having to manage a toddler who has had an allergic reaction to another food. As a result, he has been crabby, clingy and just not himself. Juggling that with a 6 month old who is trying to reach further, move more, do more, but constantly toppling, and also needing greater input and awake for longer, has been exhausting. The break in the madness was then going out for half an hour to pick up the teenager! But all of this, combined with an early start, and a full on, but highly enjoyable day before, has dragged me back down.

I am still having to learn where to draw a line and give myself a break. When I topple over the line, I find myself getting into bad, negative cycles. I start to compare myself, my life, my children with those of others. I compare with friends, with relatives, with strangers who post in random places on social media. I get myself down because I feel I am failing my child(ren) because they are not achieving their maximum potential.

I struggle because my baby isn’t keen on eating, when my friend’s child who is younger will chomp through 3 meals. I struggle because my toddler isn’t as eloquent as other children his age. I struggle because I can’t do with my children everything I feel I should. I struggle because I don’t want to leave the safety of my house. I want to stay in my safety blanket. I know I need to find space to stop and take a break when this happens, but it is finding the safest way to do that.

I know I made a mistake when I got to a similar point when my toddler was younger. I cut myself off from people completely, and nearly lost completely some very valuable friendships. This time I am trying to get the balance right. To be able to take a step back without cutting everything off. I’m still not always getting it right, but I am trying, and I am learning.

I hate the struggles that PND gives me. I hate the impact it has on my life at the flick of a switch. But I am learning that I there is a trigger, and I am trying to stop the switch being flicked.

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Insecurities… not seen by others but can be crippling

I live every day feeling that I’m not good enough at the moment. My insecurities can be bad at the best of times, but at the moment they are huge. My insecurities trigger moments of jealousy, self doubt, feelings of neglect, of being over looked or left out.

People can say “Don’t be silly!” or “It’s all in your head!” but that doesn’t take away the feelings. The feelings are strong and are real. Some moments are worse than others. Seeing things posted on social media that you weren’t invited to, but would have loved to attend, seeing other friends getting together without you, hearing about plans made. This doesn’t mean how I’m feeling is right or justified, but it’s where I’m at.

When I say I have anxiety, it’s not just about practical things, it runs into feelings and emotions. It affects my self worth. It affects my self belief. And I hate it! I hate doubting my friendships, my relationships, my capabilities I hate feeling inside that I’m inferior. Some days it makes me want to just walk away from everything and live in a bubble with my family.

The triggers are varied and unpredictable, which doesn’t help others really. It can range from lack of sleep, to absolutely nothing I can pinpoint! And then it eats away. The damage it can do can be long term. I’ll often, when really struggling, choose to cut myself off from people, from the world. My head is saying ‘If people can’t be bothered with me, then I won’t bother with them so they can’t hurt me!’ But on the flip side my heart is screaming ‘Please let me know you value me, you want me in your life!’

Little things can make a huge difference. But also no one should feel that they have to acknowledge. I never truly appreciated the value of the words “thank you” till my insecurities and anxieties took over. Someone acknowledging you and saying hello, or checking in can make such a difference.

I know over time these insecurities will fade and be less of a struggle. But these struggles are real and they are a battle. They can be exhausting!

The end of a journey

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Over the last couple of weeks, my husband and I had agreed that we would  start to wean our daughter off of breastfeeding and on to formula. It came with a real mix of feelings for me. Sadness in someways as I have enjoyed the closeness and knowledge that I was her main provider, but on the other side there was a huge feeling of relief. It was so hard to actually make a decision, because society has so many feelings about what you should or shouldn’t do.

For us there was the added complexity of her milk allergy, exacerbated by her starting to react to her dairy free formula. So another GP appointment, and another formula, and we could start the process again. But for 5 days I was doing every feed, and what I realised very quickly was that I was exhausted and struggling. I missed being able to do bedtime with our son, because I was having to feed our daughter, rather than my husband giving her a bottle. I was struggling in the morning, as a time where I had normally caught up on sleep, while my husband did the first feed and took both children disappeared.

And then on top I had the mum guilt. I felt guilty cos I was resenting having to feed her all the time. I felt guilty because I couldn’t do things with my son because I was feeding, and when I wasn’t feeding I was too tired to do much. I felt guilty as a wife, because I was so worn out by it all. It was a huge battle I was having internally.

Making the decision to swap to solely formula feeding, was, in the end, and easy one. I knew I couldn’t keep going feeling so tired out by it all. I needed to be able to share the load. I need to be able to say yes to an invite from a friend if I want to go out. I need to find time and space to be me, Rachel, rather than spend my whole time being “mum” or “mummy”.

I have to say, I couldn’t have done the feeding journey I have been on without the never ending support of my online mummy friends. The two dozen or so women who have supported me through the middle of the night endless feeds courtesy of WhatsApp. The ladies on our facebook group that have encouraged me when I was having the bad days. And today, when I shared that I was at the end of the journey, they just loved and supported me some more.

For me, to reach 22 weeks of breastfeeding, is a milestone I never thought I would achieve. In the early days I was under so much pressure from medical professionals to switch to solely formula feeding, and then since then there has been pressure from some friends and family to stop breastfeeding as they think it was invading in to life too much and not what they saw as “normal” as it wasn’t what they had done, to pressure from people to go to solely breastfeeding as “breast is best”. I’ve always known that I was going to have to increase bottle feeds as I couldn’t express the milk needed to do a day or a night without me there, and with returning to work, and settling in with the childminder, it was something I was anticipating.

For me, fed has always been the best option. My eldest was bottle fed from 10 days old. My second was given his first feed by cup, he had 12 hours of tube feeding, 8 weeks of breastfeeding, and then switched to formula. So all very different journeys. Ending the breastfeeding journey now is what is right and best for me, my daughter, my sons and my husband. Because, more than anything else it is what is right for my mental health right not. My journey is not going to be right for everyone, and I know people will have their opinions, but I am going to try not to care. I know my family are going to be happier and that is my priority.

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The fear of the scales

This contraption has been the cause of some of my biggest problems since giving birth. It has caused me panic attacks, it has caused tears, it makes a fear bubble up inside me every time I have to get her weighed.

I know that the fear stems from the first few weeks of her life, when every time she hadn’t gained weight they would be sending us back to hospital. But it has left a deep rooted fear that I will be judged and comments will be made if at any point she drops off her weight curve. Things like get bringing up more milk than normal after feeds because she’s full of mucous from a cold or she’s been gumming lots and creating acidic saliva make me worry. I dread the times when we have to put her on the scales.

As I’ve said before, my health visitor is amazingly supportive, and she’ll come to the house to do the weighing, rather than getting me to go to tbe clinic, where I’ve had meltdowns because I’m panicking. But I still have to get her and her brother weighed every time we see the dietician.

There is no easy fix at the moment, and like all my other anxieties it’s made worse by tbe post natal depression, but it doesn’t take the fear away. Like everything else, it’s another fear I have to overcome, and each of them is a baby step.