My Story

My Story

I consider myself to be quite young when I had my first baby. I was 20, thought I was in a safe happy relationship and had a roof over my head. Ideal time to bring a baby into the world I thought. Apart from horrendous morning sickness and pretty bad SPD later on, the pregnancy went very well. I even started my maternity leave early and would laze around in the mornings watching baby programmes on the discovery channel. Even the start of labour was straight forward, a week late, membrane sweep, then a few hours later the trickle of water. I progressed pretty fast, but baby was back to back so took a lot of hard work to get out. An episiotomy and vacuum delivery followed with legs up in stirrups on my back. Gosh it makes me shudder! No one encouraged different positions, not a lot was communicated with me and I think a lot of this was to do with my age. Okay I wasn’t 15, but I still think I was naïve and not treated accordingly. There wasn’t really informed choice, I was just told what was best and expected to go along. I should have been active, on my feet, on all fours, over a ball! Anything except on my back, waiting.

Anyway, eventually she was out and I was filled with euphoria, high on endorphins. We were a family. A short stay in hospital and then I returned home to the bubble of motherhood. The tenderness disappeared and I was getting used to this little bundle of noise that always wanted feeding and cuddling. I was coping ok….for a while. Even at the postnatal check, I was fine, even if a little sleep deprived.

A few weeks after this, I started to feel not quite right. I considered myself lucky, because the women in my family had all suffered from postnatal depression so I knew what was happening, well I thought I did anyway. I popped down the doctors and told her the family history and what I had been feeling. She said “well what would you like, some tablets?” In hindsight I was stupid, I should have asked if there were any other alternatives. But I was young, naïve and trusting of the doctor because of her position. Anyway, my mum had had tablets, I just presumed it was the norm and it would make me better.

She scribbled her prescription and a few weeks later it did. I started to feel normal again for a short while. We then relocated to stay with family for a few months. It was during that time, things got a little worse. Having a baby in someone else’s home was tough, not to mention the clash between the woman of the house and I. The tablets were losing their effectiveness. My dose was increased and all was well again.

Little one’s first birthday came and went. Life was good and we started trying for little monkey number two. She was conceived and the whole cycle started again, this time whilst in temporary accommodation. After we found another home, my partner left and I continued the pregnancy alone. It was incredibly daunting, but this time my experience was different. I had exceptional care from my midwifery team. I was supported with an active labour and there were no complications during delivery. I was an emotional wreck because of going it alone, but I had my babies and was supported exceptionally by the team of midwives and health visitors. I suspect this was for two reasons:  I was under a completely different trust and I was already in the system as struggling with perinatal mental health issues. I was back on medication, but things were manageable because there was a support system in place.

I was also referred to Home Start for a volunteer to come and see me for a couple of hours a week. This was a fantastic help. Not so much for what could get done when she was around, but more in how I could talk to her. I didn’t see her as a health professional and so I didn’t feel I would end up in a psychiatric unit with what I disclosed to her. She probably did have to have conversations with the managers, but I trusted her to convey that I wasn’t a risk. She did a fantastic job, listening to me, supporting me.

I met my present husband after a while and we fell in love very quickly. I suffered a bereavement of someone close and because my PND still had not completely resolved I continued to see a counsellor and the health visiting team, just to be safe. Eventually it got to a point where I felt my medication was doing more harm than good. I actually couldn’t feel anything and missed having strong emotions such as joy and anger. I came off it and I started to feel better very quickly. I was coping well. I don’t know if this was because I felt more in control now I was off medication or it could have just been the old cliché that time was a healer. Very quickly, I fell pregnant with child number 3. Although planned and although I was feeling much better, I couldn’t help but feel anxious about what lay ahead. I was worried that the PND would be much worse this time, because I hadn’t properly dealt with the bereavement I had had. There was also an intense fear of my husband leaving, because of what had happened in my second pregnancy. I was right to be worried, not about my husband but definitely about the depression.

My little boy was a shock to the system. His birth was great, everything went smoothly and quickly and we were home within hours. Lovely. What I didn’t anticipate with this one, was the complete lack of sleep. If I thought I had missed out on sleep before it wasn’t a patch on the sleep deprivation I was about to experience. The first two children, for reasons I regret, I formula fed. Although they still awoke in the night it was tolerable because they would actually sleep. Not this one. For the first couple of years he needed me all the time, always needed feeding to sleep, would never stay down when I put him down and left me without a life.

I actually couldn’t cope.

The tearfulness was too much. Blazing rows ensued. The whole family felt in bits because of the turmoil I felt and was inflicting on others. My eldest struggled with her behaviour, adding fuel to an already out of control fire. There was so much conflict and I felt it was my job to resolve everything and hold everything together, that is what mums are for. I just couldn’t. I didn’t get out with my little boy, didn’t do hardly any of the things I wanted to. I wanted to go to groups, but couldn’t face putting on a brave face or pretending I was enjoying this part of my baby’s life. I was wracked with guilt, thinking I shouldn’t be feeling like this! I had so much love for my son and the others, why did I feel this way? Why couldn’t I just pull myself together? Sleep deprivation really took it’s toll and I found I was having intrusive thoughts all the time, about me, my husband and my children. I felt completely abnormal, thinking perhaps I was a psychopath or something. I didn’t dare talk. I knew deep down I wouldn’t do anything, but I still felt frightened by the thoughts. I was terrified that one day they wouldn’t just be thoughts. I didn’t even tell my husband for fear he would leave (and given how rocky life was, that was feasible). I just struggled in silence.  I was uneasy with what I could be capable of and worried something might just send me over the edge, like one day, it would just be too much.

I was terrified of my family being ripped apart, of ending up hospitalised with the children going into care. To protect my family, I hid it all. I hid it very well, in my eyes we all lived together through it, being separated even if health professionals thought it would be safer, just wasn’t an option for me. It was us all together or not at all. I know now, that it wouldn’t have been like that. But when you are in the thick of it, that’s not how you think. A lot needs to be done to reduce the stigma associated with care management of perinatal mental health. Women need to feel more in control and informed, rather thinking they are going to be carted off in a straight-jacket!

I don’t know how we held it together as a family, I really don’t. This time I had to manage without the medication because I was breastfeeding. Thankfully that is no longer the case for women, there are some safer anti-depressants that can be used while breastfeeding. Thankfully, we did make it through, all together.

I started doing whatever I could just to get by, setting small achievable goals, organising chores a little better. These goals became bigger, I decided to do the Race for Life even though I was always rubbish at running. I did it! And because of having to train for it I got better at exercise and increased my fitness levels. My confidence and self-esteem rose. I felt like someone again, someone who could achieve whatever they put their mind to. I was signed off from Home-Start and I started setting goals all the time, always something giving me a focus outside of family life, something for me. The real turning point was setting my goal of achieving my midwifery dream. I then set about researching the role even more and putting smaller goals in place to achieve it. I started volunteering at the maternity unit, I volunteered for Home-Start as by now I had recovered enough to help others and help the charity that had helped me. I started to feel more fulfilled.

I then went on to have another daughter. This time I was very anxious. I was frightened for me and frightened for my family. This time I made a decision that changed everything for me. I started to quiz the females in my family. It turned out all suffered from severe PMS the same as I did. All had had PND. And all the older women had struggled more than most with menopause. I began to think there was, I don’t know, a hormonal link? I started to reflect back on my own experiences of PMS and PND. My PND only ever started at about 8 weeks post-partum. Right after I had always started hormonal contraception. I am no expert, but I decided to chat with my doctor and opt for non-hormonal contraception this time round. She agreed there could be a relationship between the two and that it was worth a try. Well I tried. And it worked. Twenty months later, still sleep deprived (actually more so this time!) and yet no depression. It could of course be coincidence. It could be more a mind over matter thing. It could be that it wasn’t going to happen anyway – not every woman suffers with PND every pregnancy. But I will never touch hormonal contraceptives again because of it. Unfortunately there is no evidence (or indeed very much research) to substantiate my thoughts. I wish there was. One day there may be. Thankfully, I trusted my instincts instead of lack of evidence (I am not advocating that, by the way, it is a flaw of mine that I will address!) and on this occasion I actually came away better off.

My life now feels completely transformed. It is of course, not a bed of roses! I am a busy mum, with children that are growing up, knowing their own mind and constantly challenging me. Life is not easy by any means. But there are others worse off. And I can cope. It may sometimes feel like I am drowning. Especially at particular times of month! But I know it is temporary and within a few days I can reclaim some control.

I am now undertaking an Access course to try to achieve my midwifery dream and am in the process of setting up a local group for mums with perinatal mental health problems. A place they can come with their children and not worry about the brave face or pretending to cope or enjoy motherhood. They can make like-minded friends and their children can make friends. And they can talk, in a safe environment, without fear of judgement. When I achieve my dream of becoming a midwife, I fully intend on specialising in Perinatal Mental Health and working with others to reduce stigma associated with these issues. I want to help more women in the antenatal period and increase awareness and vigilance of this dark, frightening illness. It is time to change things.

Please note: I am not a health professional, giving evidence based advice, this is just my story. I hope it helped in some way.

Sleep Deprivation: Why the postnatal period should not be an endurance test. 

Fantastic link to article written by Mags Deakin (follow her on twitter @MancMidwife) about sleep deprivation and mental health. She suggests some ideas in which Health Professionals can better support and inform women with sleep deprivation.

Source: Sleep Deprivation: Why the postnatal period should not be an endurance test. 

Our Angel Baby’s Birthday



Today is an important date for me. It is….or should I say would be, my baby’s due date.

Only my womb is empty.

On the 17th May last year I suspected, that despite being on a copper coil and already having four children, I was pregnant again. I tried to talk myself out of it as we hadn’t planned to have any more children, four was more than enough. I had started driving lessons and was close to my driving test date. I had also been accepted onto my college course to start in September 2015 ready to start an Access course, the long awaited start of my journey to becoming a midwife. Besides, I was protected and as a full time mum was a little busy to be very ‘active’ in that respect. Nonetheless, after having a dream of meeting another son, I took a test the following day. It was positive. Surely not???? It was. The extreme fatigue, tearfulness and cramps I had been having started to now make sense. I had just though that with how busy I had been, my period had been put a little out and was exhausted. I am a mum of four, I should have known better. Well, I guess I did, but perhaps didn’t want to admit it. After all, for the first time in a long time, I was starting to take steps towards my career and do something that was a bit more than ‘being mum’.

I felt devastated. I cried and cried and cried. My poor husband. He had invested in a new van and had recently revamped the bathrooms – now we would have to move and get a 7 seater. Not to mention how broke and tired we would be. Still….we had done it before. We could do it again. It just meant putting off a few things and having a tough couple of years with such a small age gap between the youngest and the unborn. Over a matter of hours, we came round to the idea, we thought of solutions and mutually agreed we were strong and could make it work. Besides, all our kids were so lovely, another mouth to feed is worth it, for the lovely person that would join our family. Because of my dream, I was adamant I was carrying a boy, making us even more excited (we had 3 girls and a boy already).  You might be thinking that we really shouldn’t have started planning or getting excited so early on and maybe you are right, but we had no reason to think things could go wrong, I had been lucky enough in life to have four healthy pregnancies turn into four healthy children and so presumed this next one would be no different. And actually, far better that we embrace it than continue to wallow in pity for ourselves. We love kids, another one would have been an unexpected, unplanned but wanted addition to our big family (we also have two labradoodles!).

But then it hit me. There was a coil in there. I called the doctor who made a referral to the Early Pregnancy Unit (EPU) for us to be seen a couple of days later. I spent the next 48 hours googling all ‘pregnancy with coil in situ’ stories. Many, many were positive outcomes. Why should we be any different? I am a deeply spiritual person and believed that this spanner in our works had been put their for a reason. We were obviously ‘meant’ to have another otherwise why would we conceive when we weren’t trying.

It would seem God had other plans. As we headed for our scan we both made mundane, polite conversation with each other. We sat in the waiting room for an eternity and then finally we were called in. The radiographer set about her business, whilst my husband sat poised on the chair waiting and I lay twisting my neck trying to get a view of the screen. There was a lot of prodding around. She confirmed the coil was still in place and then was quiet for some time. Then she said she just wanted to check something with the consultant. I am sure this resonates with many. My husband and I looked at each other and I seem to remember a squeeze of the hand. I was impatient, I wanted to see our little bundle of cells growing. The consultant returned with the radiographer and had a look. She then proceeded to tell me that nothing was visible on the screen and that given my positive pregnancy test and positive hormone test that my pregnancy was in an unknown location. This meant that I would have to be monitored and the coil was removed. It could still be too small to see on the scan she said – we would know more when we returned for another blood test 48 hours later.

We were a bit shell shocked, but I was still positive. I absolutely believed that it would be ok. We returned a couple of days later and had blood taken. We were sent home and told to ring for the results, which we did. The hormone levels had risen. It was still going! I knew it!  I was told to come back for another scan in a couple of days. I had started to get excited (I don’t know about my husband, he didn’t discuss it too much) and we made practical plans. The hormones hadn’t risen as much as they should technically though, hence the scan and another follow up blood test.

We went for a second scan and I was adamant that this time there would be something. I was to be bitterly disappointed. It looked empty in there. We were given a leaflet and sent for more blood tests, being told to ring for the results again.

The levels were still rising but not as well as to be expected. For the next 6 days or so that was us, back and forth from the hospital and chasing blood results. I was still trying to stay positive, I still felt very sick and still terribly tired plus no bleeding. Finally I seemed to have a definite answer. The levels had dropped and I was going to miscarry. Or as the EPU lady so nicely put it our baby was ‘going to resolve itself’. Thanks for that, insensitive cow. I was gutted. We had seriously got used to the idea, made practical arrangements and viewed it as a gift. However, as quickly as it was given it was taken away.

We went on our camping trip as we had planned and I started the miscarriage then. It was an emotional rollercoaster, my hormones were all over the place for weeks as my body hadn’t caught up with what happened. I didn’t know if what I was experiencing was normal as I hadn’t been told exactly what to expect – in fact I wasn’t even convinced I passed everything straight away, I think it was the next month that he was completely gone.

I am a bit of a know it all. I like to think I know a lot, about different situations and feelings, about people, about me, about those I know. But this was new. I knew nothing about miscarriage, what was meant to happen and how. Never had I had to deal with something like this. Hormones everywhere I started to worry I was sinking into depression. But I had no-one to talk to properly except my husband. In early pregnancy, you are not under a midwife or health visitor who can support you through a bereavement if necessary. Because it’s early people think it is ok. It wasn’t anything yet anyway right? WRONG! This seriously p***ed me off. I know they thought they were being nice and caring but they just showed that they could not comprehend how I felt. Actually the only person who got it was hubby, he was my rock through it.

It led me to think about all the poor women who experience early miscarriage with PMH issues and I can understand it can tip you over the edge. Luckily I scraped through and managed to focus on other things in my life and move on. But not everyone will be able to do that and my own experience showed me the true lack of support from health professionals in such circumstances. Once it is a foetus I guess they can class it as a bereavement, but for me, and many others, life starts much earlier than that and so we were bereaved. I do hope the handling of my early pregnancy loss was rare, but I regretfully suspect not. It highlighted to me the importance of a better database for inter-disciplinary teams to use to better support women with PMH issues. In my trust they are working on that and the health-visitors and midwives can share records, but it would be useful for all professionals in charge of one’s care to be able to see the whole picture. My mental health was the last issue on my mind when initially going through this but it should have been a priority of the health professionals ‘caring’ for me.

If anyone has been through this or similar please visit this site Miscarriage Association. It provided me with the answers that the health professionals did not have the time or motivation to give me.

Footnote: I do not usually bash health professionals seeing as I wish to be one but this was an occasion that lacked the compassion, care and kindness required from them.



A story from Austrailia….kindly shared by @TwoHandsStrong


I am TwoHandsStrong, a 31-year-old first time mother living in Canberra, Australia. I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression in January 2014 and initially managed my treatment through exercise and counseling. However my health deteriorated severely and within a month I was prescribed an SSRI and benzodiazepine.

I weaned from my medications prior to trying for a baby in September 2014. I was managing my anxiety through CBT with a regular counsellor, and daily sessions at the pool where I swam two kilometers, or until my head stopped running a cycle.

Once I fell pregnant in October, my ability to exercise was taken from me as the morning sickness and overwhelming exhaustion crept into my body and mind. I tried regular camping trips in the outdoors, however my inability to hike or exert energy (as well as the cycling thoughts), made it impossible to control my anxiety. I started to have negative thoughts about my baby during early pregnancy, however they diminished during the second and third trimesters. I did not tell my counselor about them at the time because I felt so guilty that I, as a mother, was thinking about hurting my growing baby.

We had a perfect birth, with no pain control, however I required anxiety assistance through use of my benzodiazepine. Days after the birth started to experience intrusive thoughts, that told me that my baby was deliberately persecuting me, and I was convinced that a Spirit haunted our house since the birth of Master X. I was extremely energetic, feeling as though I was invincible.

I could not feel the continuing pain from my pubic synthesis.

Furthermore I was stuck on a loop on breastfeeding amidst multiple hospital admissions for recurrent mastitis.

When Master X was three months, I returned to my mother’s house because my husband and I and perinatal l knew that something serious was happening. I do not yet recall if it was a communal choice. I was finally diagnosed with severe postnatal depression with a psychotic episode and was prescribed an anti-psychotic when Master X. was five months.

I am still working my way through the recurrent experiences of my psychotic episode, the dark, ominous place of the first three months of my son’s life. I tried exercise again, but the pain of my pubic synthesis and associated issues from mastitis means that this is an ongoing venture. I need something NOW.

I discovered (through my husband and mother’s advice) that publicly writing is an excellent form of therapy. I attempted personal journaling when I was deep in the episode, however writing for myself seemed to just feed the psychosis. The secret places of mental illnesses thrive on secrecy.

Placing my experience in public means that it is no longer ‘mine’. When I write, the experience drifts to become a memory. My personal blog following this journey

My advice for others is that the voices are not real. They are not you. Please tell someone in the medical field. The voices told me that if I told anyone that they would take my child away from us.

Please know the signs of postnatal depression and postnatal psychosis. These are two different conditions, and psychosis can result in irrevocable consequences for mother and/or baby. I find this resource useful in explaining the differences:

Love xx

Time to stop and take some turkey stock…


Okay so I know the net and news are full of reflections for 2015, full of soppy messages and inspirational quotes. And I am sorry to further bore you by adding to that. Truth is, I don’t actually tend to use New Year as a time for doing that. Yes I love to watch the fireworks on TV and watch splendid Big Ben ding ding dong us in to the new year. And yes I sit there and think how the last year has been a bit of a time warp. But actually I reflect all year round becasue I feel it important for one’s wellbeing. This is where hubby and I differ in opinion. My husband never looks at his achievements for fear that it all could come crashing down around him. And I guess to a certain degree he is right there. Sometimes one can be a little too cocky and things are going really well and then a whopping great thundercloud pees on your your parade. I get that, I do (it has happened to me many a time!) But I do not think I would be where I am today or as determined in everything I set my mind to, if I did not stop every now again and reflect at the positives that have passed. Every year (and not at New Year I might add) I set myself goals. This year was:

  • Pass my driving test – check, achieved in May (aged bloody 31! 3rd time! but I did it eventually)
  • Lose 7lb – well I have, in a way…I lost 2lb, then put on 3lb, then lost 2lb, put on 1lb and so on. So actually I have probably lost 20lb!
  • Start college – yep started in September, bloody tough going and only 1/6 of the way through the course so far, but I DID start it
  • Set up a perinatal mental health support group – nearly there for that one. Due to start end of Jan after countless months of waiting for checks
  • Make my children feel special every day – I try, I really do. But I have 4. And sometimes they really pee me off with their bickering and answering back. I wont win mother of the year award (especially juggling everything else alongside kids) but at least I do make a conscious effort to try and as long they are happy, which they are, that’s what matters, not how many times I have said I love you in one day to each one
  • Learn to swim……yeh we will skip that one

So as you can see, having a list of achievable goals pinned up for myself has been productive this year. I have ticked off a couple, plus a couple more dishonestly. But I have a sense of achievement that the year has been a worthwhile one when I look back and think how quickly it went. I don’t feel life has just passed me by and nothing has come out of it (Worth looking up mindfulness alongside this too). There were a couple of additional things not even on my list too. I unexpectedly joined a Spiritualist church in June which was an eye opener for me (no pun intended for those Spiritualists out there!). Hubby took us on some nice memorable holidays and I have made some lovely new friends over a range of ages and interests in addition to those I already have. So all in all, 2015 was a good one.

I cannot stress highly enough how important it is to make yourself a list (I love lists!) of small achievable goals (achievable being key there, no good setting yourself a marathon when you can’t even run round the block!) and feel good ticking them off throughout the year. And maybe keep them, so in 5 years time, you look back and read them and feel really pleased with yourself (despite what my wise old husband says, I don’t think there is any harm being pleased with yourself once in a while). So my advice to you is to stop and take stock of everything you have achieved and everything you want to achieve. After all, if you do not know where you are going, how do you expect to ever get there.

Happy New Year!

Mummymidwife2be – Mrs C

Counting my Blessings


After tweeting with @littlemissevec (whose story can be found  here) and @RajaGangopadhyay this evening I have been reminded yet again what a journey I have been on and how fortunate I am to be enjoying another Christmas with my family. I did not suffer the symptoms of Post Partum Psychosis as many are seeing in the current plot of Eastenders. But I contemplated ending my life numerous times, each time wretched with guilt and torment as to what it would do to my family if I did. Yet it was harder to stay. I constantly critiqued my dire mothering skills. I was overwhelmed by washing the never ending pile of washing, picking up everyone’s crap over and over, cleaning and cleaning again, on no sleep and with very little support around me with the exception of my husband and some close friends none of whom I felt I could share my inner torment with. I would lock myself in the bathroom sobbing into a damp towel, toying with the dressing gown cord wondering if that was my way out of it all. I would dismiss it and move on to thinking about the knives downstairs. Then tablets. No I couldn’t do tablets, too close to home, that one (my father had overdosed only a year or two before). Eventually I would stop thinking such things, conceding that I was a coward for not being able to carry any of them out, tell myself there would be a day I could. I would dry my tears and soldier on downstairs until the next thing pushed me close to the edge. My life was like this for 2 years at least. I told myself I was crazy everyday. That actually I needed to be locked up. Many would think I was suffering Post Partum Psychosis but actually I had PND. In hindsight with my involvement with PNMH I have discovered it was more likely PND with Maternal OCD and intrusive thoughts. I wish someone had been able to tell me that although frightening, intrusive thoughts are very common and can be dealt with. I would never have carried any of them out ever. I knew that really deep down I think. But they still kept coming as much as I tried to shut them away. Over and over. It was enough to terrify me that something may happen. I told myself it was because I was a coward that I was still battling through it all but it wasn’t. I was strong. And because I was strong (or a coward-whichever one you believe) I am here five Christmas’ later counting my blessings that I have been able to be bored to tears by countless school assemblies, frustrated by so many nativities and carol concerts that I could not see because of the tall people in front of me, elated by so many proud parents evenings and have had thousands of stretched out bedtimes that should have been 7pm and ended up being 9pm. I whine at my family ALOT. I whine to others about how hectic my life is ALOT. But Raja and Eve have reminded me this evening that I am lucky to be here to whine as there are many who aren’t. I never ever thought I would reach this day. My new years Resolution is going to be one that must remain unbroken for the mums lost to PND and other PNMH disorders. Each day as much as I may whine about the washing, the cleaning, the fighting, the never ending crap everywhere, the dog fluff in the corners of the room or the MOUNTAIN of washing up that faces me countless times a day (All of which is quite normal for a family of 6 I have now discovered!) I WILL count my blessings EVERY NIGHT before I go to bed.

As said to Eve earlier this evening. There is LIGHT at the end of the DARK LONG tunnel. You just have to HANG ON IN THERE!

Thank you Raja and Eve🙂

10 tips on coping with Christmas from the #PNDFamily | PND and Me


Great Blog entry from the lovely Rosey at PND&Me on surviving Christmas.

Source: 10 tips on coping with Christmas from the #PNDFamily | PND and Me

Fighting fistula: Razia’s brave recovery from pregnancy nightmare – BBC News

Razia’s pregnancy became her nightmare. After losing her child, she is left with chronic incontinence. Her condition, known as fistula, is treatable, but the journey to getting treatment is a tough and humiliating one, writes Shahzeb Jillani,.

Source: Fighting fistula: Razia’s brave recovery from pregnancy nightmare – BBC News

Child in Mind: Is Postpartum Depression Really Postpartum Neglect?

Shared on Facebook, I thought I would repost here.

Source: Child in Mind: Is Postpartum Depression Really Postpartum Neglect?

When Mom’s Depressed, What Happens to the Kids? | Dr. Peggy Drexler

Mothers who experience depression and other forms of mental illness can’t help what’s happening to them, and surely they’re suffering. The mentally ill often aren’t capable of seeing the impact of their illness on others, so all-consuming it often is.

Source: When Mom’s Depressed, What Happens to the Kids? | Dr. Peggy Drexler

Life just got a wee bit easier

Life just got a wee bit easier

A busy day for a Saturday today. I only found out yesterday that the kids (3 older ones) have a dress up day for Children In Need next week. My own fault really, I never check the newsletters. The theme? Heroes. So my kids chose The Descendants (I really don’t get the hero bit there but who am I to argue??). So off we went to town to look for cheap bits to put together to make something that resembled the outfits. I spent lots. But I also found a great fabric shop and bought some bits from there in the hope that I can chuck something together in the non-existent free time that I have this week (I am no seamstress, but it only has to stay together for one day!) Whilst I was there I discovered Wunderweb. Awesome. Less sewing for me.

The mother-in-law also brought over an early Christmas present today, which I am very excited about. No, it is not a night away, or even a brand new dress. It is a Slow Cooker. Am I so sad that such a thing excited me? Maybe so, but I just realised my life just got easier. I struggle to juggle the kids, college, the animals, the husband and even looking after myself. So if I can save time or manage my time more effectively with a Slow Cooker, then yep, I am excited! It may be sad to some people and I get that, but to be able to provide the kids with a nutritious meal on my college days rather than fish fingers and chips, is a right Brucey Bonus.

Not only did I discover Wunderweb and Slow Cookers today, I also found Pinterest. That time I have just saved myself with the Slow cooker is now being used to look up recipes for it alongside Descendants outfit ideas. So I am not sure how much better off I am with my discoveries today, but I have two lots of bolognese in the freezer for the next couple of weeks and one in the fridge for tomorrow. And I am getting there with the outfits, so it can’t be too bad!

I have to say having browsed Pinterest, I think it is a useful tool for information and advice on maternal matters and mental health, so watch this space as I am sure I will be utilising it at some point!

Anyway signing off for the night as a happy mummy.

Goodnight xxx