* This post was written in conjunction with Medela.
If there’s one thing I’ve been thinking about a heck of a lot in the last few weeks of this pregnancy, it’d have to be a cold glass of Secret Stone Sauvignon Blanc.. Well that and breastfeeding. Breastfeeding may even have topped my wine induced fantasies as we grow closer and closer to B-day and my second round of bebe feeding.
I’ve written about the battles I went through with feeding my son before but to summarise; it was hard. There were tears. It didn’t really get easier. I gritted my teeth through 6 months of feeding (whether this was admirable or silly, I’m still not sure), 4.5 months of which, we dealt with an undiagnosed tongue tie situation which would eventually be found out to be the problem and the cause of the difficulties I was experiencing. I wanted desperately to be able to breastfeed my son. I went to the classes, did the reading, asked for help every time he opened his little mouth. And yes, I fed him for over six months. He was filled to the brim with booby juice for the first half of his life. But things were never perfect. There was always an element of pain, ranging from slight discomfort (God bless you Medela Nipple Shields for pretty much saving my sanity) to all out agony.
I’m not going to lie, I have grieved for the breastfeeding relationship I never really managed with Ollie. It was one thing I wanted so badly, yet something that, biologically, just wasn’t great. Have you ever wanted something so badly that it becomes your absolute focus? The pinnacle of your thinking? The shadow constantly hovering over your busy mind? This was breastfeeding for me. I craved the intimacy of the act. I wanted to be that serene mum, sat on the rocking chair, gently nursing her gurgling babe. Sure, it was probably an unrealistic image but I thought if I worked hard enough, tried for long enough, I might just achieve it. Read More >
News Flash! News Flash! I’m still pregnant. Yessiree, I’m still waddling around, bebe firmly encased in my belly and I may or may not, at this very second, be typing while furiously stuffing a handful of lollies in my mouth from my hospital bag, in a furious rage that I’ve not yet met my daughter.
The problem with having your first a touch early (38 + 3) is that it creates a HUGE expectation that the second will ALSO do the right thing and arrive around the 38 week mark. Add to that the full week of pre-labour I’ve been experiencing and a glowing report on the state of my cervix from the midwife and it’s safe to say that I was feeling pretty darn confident I’d have a newborn by tonights State Of Origin. Seems the bebe has other ideas and is enjoying making her mother wait. I suppose patience is a virtue and all that jazz…
All this waiting has meant that I’ve tweaked by hospital packing list and now have a rather slick looking Country Road tote packed for the eventual day/night she decides to grace us with her presence (around 2016 I’m now thinking). The absolutely AMAZING (Not) Just A Mummy Facebook community (find the page HERE) is largely to be thanked for the below selection of stuff. They (as always) had the best advice for what to pack (and what to leave behind) as I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember what I’d stashed away last time.
All going well, I won’t actually be staying in hospital very long (my hospital has a 4 hour turn around as I’m part of the Midwife Group Practice program and will have at-home support in the week after birth) BUT I still need to be prepared just in case I’m in overnight.
Here’s my edited version of what I’ve packed for ‘B’ day. Please send labour vibes (seriously.. I’ll take any help I can get right about now Read More >
When I first started blogging, waaaay back in 2012 (did the internet even exist then?), I was in the thick of a handful of post natal mental health issues. There was the OCD that I’d been diagnosed with years before, but had reared it’s highly unattractive head again after birth, along with a generous helping of Post Natal Anxiety and what I now reckon was a dollop of PND, just to round that particular platter off nicely.
Blogging offered a way for me to get out of my head for a little while and re-connect with some of my ‘other’ skills, apart from being a human milk machine and constant singer of lullabyes. I wasn’t sure exactly where I wanted my blog to go but I knew I wanted to share my experience of redefining what motherhood looks like.
It made sense then that while posts about mental health would feature, there would also be other ‘stuff’. The (Not) Just A Mummy tagline has always been “Muddling through motherhood, while still rocking a red lip” and while I’ve mulled over changing it MANY times, I never have. Because, in a way, it epitomises what this little space is about.
For awhile though, I wondered if chatting about beauty/makeup/why I worship at the altar of the holy rosehip oil daily was a bit.. shallow. Superficial if you will. Here I was, experiencing all this massively serious mental health stuff yet posting about the world’s best body scrub or how to master a bold lip. Was I being a massive hypocrite? Or worse still, hiding that part of myself away from my audience? Read More >
It’s happened people! I’ve somehow, through the fog of late pregnancy, managed to put fingers to keys and not only create but PUBLISH an entire blog post. This is rather momentous as lately I’ve struggled to finish writing my shopping list (there’s scraps of paper with random words like ‘organic mince’ and ’3 ripe bananas’ strewn all over the house at the moment).
It seems a bit of a sleep in and morning spent in the sunshine, down by the harbour, kicked something into gear and I’m feeling clear headed and ready to roll. As this may last for less than 3 hours, I’m flying around tying up every possible loose end while I can manage coherent thought.
I’m unbelievably excited to bring you this weeks ‘Mum Who Rocks’ and really quite awestruck that this particular mama managed to put her own fingers to keys after the arrival of her second little bundle just a few weeks ago. It should come as no suprise really as Georgie Abay, today’s featured mum, is a bit of a creative superstar and multi-tasking genius.
Not only did Georgie launch one of THE most gorgeous, stylish spaces on the internet, ‘The Grace Tales‘ while on maternity leave after the birth of her first gorgeous creation, Arabella, she’s also got a chic new children’s wear brand, Atelier Child, in the works at the moment as well. Oh and did I mention that when she’s not on full time mummy maternity duty, she’s also the Deputy Editor of VOGUE Australia (yep, Vogue.. I’m slightly in awe that the gal sitting here wearing a pesto stained Bonds singlet has managed to exchange emails with someone who’s every move is seemingly wrapped in glamour and style). And that’s also aside from her role as mama to two. I’m deeply impressed at the way Georgie manages to juggle all these different balls with aplomb as well as the way she seemingly finds an amazing amount of balance in her work/creative/home life.
Read More >
Hip hip hooray it’s Friday! Once upon a time (more accurately, 8.5 months ago-ish) Friday Eve would mean an icy cold beverage, usually of the alcoholic variety while the husband and I would toast another week. He’d toast standard topics while i’d toast managing to sail (sometimes crawl) through another week, juggling a small child who enjoyed smearing the floor with Vegemite with work, play and life in general.
While I can’t indulge in a crisp glass or two of Sauv Blanc currently (3 more weeks.. 3 more weeks.. Hopefully) I figure I CAN raise my mocktail and toast the good stuff that’s happened this week. It’s basically a ‘Thankful On A Thursday’ post re-branded for Friday.
Here’s what I’m toasting this fair eve..
Read More >
It’s the little voice that comes floating down the stairs. ‘Mama, mama, MAMA.’ It sounds different to the chatty tones heard throughout the rest of the day. There’s more urgency. A deeper desire and need to be heard. I don’t know whether it’s ‘mothering instinct’, honed through countless hours spent observing each and every mannerism, listening as garbled sounds become clearer words and those clearer words are strung together into reasonably coherent sentences, but there’s something about those night time calls that triggers such a strong response.
He wants me. Me! The mother who has spent the day feeling as if she’s not been especially attentive to his needs, caught up in a spiral of general busyness and the desire to sit quietly and read at least three features in ‘Marie Claire’ without being interrupted. Me, the mother who muttered a string of less than pretty words when a planned afternoon nap got pushed into non-existence by an early wake up time and bouncing ball of energy who wasn’t all that fussed by the fact that mummy had planned to sleep between 1.30-3pm.
As time continues to fly by at warp speed, independence has slowly replaced some of the needs that I used to fulfil. And this has been welcomed (sometimes with open arms). The hours spent feeding have become shared bowls of porridge at breakfast and cheese toasties at lunch. Little hands are now washed and dried, completely independently of my help. Shoes are selected. Snacks are chosen. Books are perused before being given the tick of approval and brought over to be read. My son is firmly in the drivers seat of so many aspects of his life at the grand old age of 2 and 3 months. Read More >