Is 2016 Cursed?

So many people think so, mainly due to the number of celebrities who have died this year. But, in reality,  many celebrities die every year; what these people mean is that celebrities they particularly like have passed on.

Then there's been Brexit, ongoing horrors in Syria, and Donald Trump becoming the US president. Again, troubling things are constantly happening in the world. 2016 has been no exception.

For me personally, 2016 has been a horrible year. Much of what happened flowed on from 2015; while it is nice to draw a line in the sand and say a new year is a fresh start, one cannot always escape past events. This year, I have been so unwell with postnatal depression, I probably should have been hospitalised many times. I've wanted to walk away from my marriage and family, desperate to seek help in the city. Our closest mental health service is absolutely appalling. I am so glad to be rid of them.

I feel like I've achieved very little, apart from surviving. I love my little family dearly, and it devastates me that I must live with my mind and body shrouded by a dark cloud. It feels like I've spent much of 2016 struggling in my relationship with God, desperate for Him to remove this thorn from my side. But, in His kindness and mercy, we have had two wonderful live-in nannies - Jordie for seeding and Liz for harvest. If I'd been well, I'd never have had the privilege and joy of having met them.

In recent weeks I've received the news that three friends of mine are now separated from their husbands. This has affected me deeply. It seems that hearing about separation/divorce and babies dying is a big trigger for depression for me. I grieve and I pray for there to be reconciliation and change in those marriages. But I'm trying not to let it get me down.

I'm praying for a better 2017. I'm praying for Flynn to sleep, as sleep deprivation is a huge factor in my illness.

Do I think 2016 is cursed? No, but it hasn't been a good year for many people.

Bring on 2017. May it be a great adventure.

The Pendulum: Not Wishing It On Anyone, But Not Wanting To Be Alone

Having postnatal depression has been one of the toughest experiences of my life.  Sorry to use a cliche, but I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

However (and I feel kind of evil for saying this), I do sometimes wish someone else I know had it.  All of the friends I have that have/had postnatal depression, I have met through the Mother Baby Unit, or in groups dedicated to helping mothers recover from PND.  I only know of two people that I met in everyday life that have confessed to having had major PND (both before I met them).

Therefore, I feel kind of lonely.  The statistics say that one in seven mums will suffer from postnatal depression.  Either they hide it very well, or the stats just seem wrong.  Of course, many mums will admit to having had the baby blues or mild PND, but when it comes to being hospitalised and suffering majorly, I appear to be alone.  I've watched friends have babies recently and they appear to just be coasting on by.  Yes, they admit the sleep deprivation is tough, but otherwise they said they're doing well.

I don't want mums to suffer...I just don't want to feel alone.

12 Things You've Never Done

Rodney has created a list of 12 unusual things he's done or had happen to him in his life that most of his readers wouldn't have (at least not all 12).  Read it here on his blog.

This is my list.  I haven't done as many exciting things as Rodney has, but I'm guessing no-one reading this post has done all of them.  Let me know if you've had any of these experiences.

1.  Had a Transient Ischaemic Attack at 19
I was in my third year of uni when I woke during the night with agonising pain in my head.  Worse than a migraine, my head hurt just touching the pillow and it felt like my skull was going to blow apart.  I was so dizzy and I lost feeling in the right side of my face and down my right arm.  I was left with a pins and needles sensation in my face and arm for nearly a week afterwards.  After numerous tests and doctor's visits (including a CT scan to check for a brain tumour), ruled out a number of other possible diagnoses, the doctor decided it must have been a TIA.  My family on my dad's side has a history of stroke; my dad has had many TIAs.  I've never had one since, but I'm mindful that I need to reduce stress as much as possible and get plenty of sleep (haha why did I have kids?).

2.  Played a black cat, a farmer's wife from 1914,  and an old crone with a bucket on her head in some of the plays I've been in.
I'm willing to bet some people reading this have been on stage....but I doubt any would have played these characters.

3. Played tennis against Casey Dellacqua. 
It was 1996. She was 11, I was 13, and she was part of a group of state-level juniors who came down to Albany to play some of the local kids.  We thought we were to be playing against ordinary kids like us.  Talk about a mismatch.

Image from here

4.  Been hospitalised for postnatal depression...twice
Related posts:
Where I Am and Where I've Been
It's Happened Again

5.  Had two short stories published in creative writing magazines
My first was in Brillig (a literary journal of prose and poetry for teenagers, which existed between 1995 and 2000) when I was in Year 10 (1998).  The second was in Sitelines when I was in my first year of uni (2001)....unfortunately the older editions aren't online anymore.  I want to try to get some more published. 

6.  Been diagnosed with Ankylosing Spondylitis
I never thought I'd get arthritis.  Thankfully, I'm feeling pretty good at the moment.
Related posts:
Life with AS 

7.  Eaten crocodile
Our local butcher stocked some for a while.  It was very expensive, but delicious.  It tastes like a cross between chicken and fish.

8.  Had my photo taken with a giraffe
It was when I was doing a play at the Perth Zoo in 2003.  I wish I had a copy of the photo.  You'll just have to take my word for it.

9.  Made a chicken hat
I've made this hat several times...once for an Easter hat parade when I was in primary school, once for a friend's mad hatter themed birthday, and once for a hat competition at our local agricultural show.
Related posts:
Show Business

10.  Made a watermelon bra
Another show competition creation
Related posts:
There Are No People Like Show People

11.  Seen The Doctor Blake Mysteries being filmed
It was in Williamstown, while we were on holidays in Melbourne in 2012.
Related posts:
Williamstown

12.  Written a novel about Aussie Rules football
The big one!  Still working towards publication.

In Light of the 'Dark Day'

Today is a year since I had the 'breakdown' that ultimately landed me in the Mother Baby Unit. Tomorrow is a year since I arrived at the MBU.

I wish I could say that everything is rosy a year on, but that would be a lie. There have been many horrible moments throughout the past year. While I'm grateful for the support I received and the friendships I made, the experience continues to highlight the vast differences between city and country, and the frustration I've felt because of where I live.

Thankfully, today was nothing like that dark day.

Slamming Doors

Since services for women with postnatal depression are minimal where I live, I've had to work so hard to build my own support network.  At times, I've felt very jealous of the support my city friends from the Mother Baby Unit receive.

Lately, it seems like every door of help has been slammed shut in my face...

My mum is not well and is therefore unable to help out at the level she used to.

Daycare are short-staffed, so they can longer take as many kids.  I'm not guaranteed of getting a place one day a week for the boys, so I can get six hours of respite.

Our search for an au pair for harvest time was becoming fruitless and frustrating.  Harvest is just weeks away.

Although I didn't want to, I was becoming increasingly angry at God.  Why was He taking away every avenue of support?  When I tried to find help, why was He slamming every door in my face?

Eventually I exploded and did a bit of door slamming of my own.  I walked out on Duncan and the boys one evening.  I drove off rather recklessly before realising I had nothing but the clothes on my back.  I sat on the side of the road in the dark and screamed and cried out to God.  Why?  Why?

Sleep deprivation makes everything worse.

Of course, I had to go back home.  I had nowhere else to go.

Maybe God was trying to teach me yet again, that where else have I to go but Him?  Maybe He wanted to break me to get me to stop trying to solve everything in my own strength, and turn to Him first in prayer?

Then...miracles.

I've been able to get a spot at daycare for the past couple of weeks, when it all seemed hopeless.
My mum was able to help out the past couple of days.
And....we might have found an au pair.

Once again, I've been humbled by our Almighty God's love and care for little me.  How nothing is impossible for Him.

My anger has been turned to repentance and thanksgiving.

Friendships Forged in the Trenches

I'm in two minds about whether friendships that start and bloom in the midst of shared suffering are a good thing, or not.

Take my experience in the Mother Baby Unit, for instance.

I bonded with most of the ladies in there quickly, and our shared experiences led us to become fast friends. They understood what I was going through more than many of my other friends and family could. That's not a slur on anyone....sometimes we just can't understand a particular trial someone is going through, unless we've been through it ourselves. While in the MBU, one of the ladies started a secret Facebook group so we could stay in touch after we were discharged.  As we were all gradually deemed well enough to return to the real world, we continued to share our struggles and sorrows via Facebook, and tried to spur each other on.

Recently, I was wondering about how one of the ladies was going, as I'd heard she'd been back to the MBU. She was also on my personal Facebook friends list, so I went to send her a private message, only to discover she was no longer on there. I assumed she must have chosen to deactivate her account. Then I wrote a message in our secret group, asking if anyone had heard from her as it appeared she was no longer on Facebook. A few of the other ladies replied, saying she hadn't deactivated her account, that they could still see her profile, but that she had removed herself from our group. I then realised what had happened....she had unfriended and blocked me.

I was in shock, I felt embarrassed that I was the only one she had blocked (I would understand if she'd blocked all of us, assuming that maybe she didn't want to be reminded of the MBU), I was worried that I'd said or done something inadvertently that had hurt her. The other ladies reassured me that it was highly unlikely I'd done anything wrong, that she must be just going through some stuff, and it was her way of dealing with it, and not to worry. I still couldn't stop wracking my brains for a bit, worrying about what I might have done. I have no other way of getting in touch with her, so I have to leave it in God's hands and move on.

That's the thing about friendships between two people with depression....as much as they can be comforting, there's also the potential for much hurt when one or both of you are going through hard times. People handle things differently, and I have no idea what goes through their heads that leads to the decisions they make, although I guess it makes perfect sense to them (or maybe not). When I'm really down, I make decisions to reduce the hurt (i.e. putting up walls to protect myself from certain people). Sometimes I just can't bear other people's burdens.

Friendships forged in the trenches.....are they a blessing?

Sometimes, yes. Sometimes, no.

Easter 2016

Good Friday is meant to be good for Christians, and it is in the sense that we remember Jesus' death was for us.  But there was nothing else that was good about Good Friday 2016 for me.

We were travelling to Dunsborough to spend the weekend with Duncan's family.  On the way there, I broke down and came close to returning to hospital.  This brought back horrible memories of the Easter weekend 2013 when I was taken to Bunbury Hospital.  By Sunday I was doing a lot better, and even made it to church.  At least I got to salvage a few good things from the weekend.

Flynn and Granddad

Flynn had a belly ache on Easter Sunday
afternoon due to eating too much lunch.

Duncan took Rory, his mum and his brother for a drive on
Sunday afternoon.  I stayed home with his dad and Flynn
to watch the footy.

Rory did not want his photo taken.

Flynn going for a spin with Grandma Win to collect
the corn harvest.

We Have a Nanny!

Just when I'd given up hope, when I'd threatened to move to Perth by myself to get some in-house help, when I'd yelled, pleaded and begged God to send someone to help me....

He did.

We have a nanny! She is a 22-year-old Christian from a town just north of Perth. She'd returned from travelling overseas and was looking for work. We found her through a mutual friend. She will be living with us until the end of July.

It's working out really well. She is a huge help. I'm trying not to worry about the financial cost, knowing that it's either this or I return to hospital. We are trusting God to provide.

Thank you, Lord! I'm sorry that I continue to doubt your goodness and love. Thank you!

Going Downhill

Today I had a follow-up appointment with our nearest mental health service. It couldn't have come soon enough as I've been going downhill during the last month or so. The bad days have become more frequent, I feel overwhelmed and unable to cope with daily tasks and stresses, and, to be frank, I've wanted to end it all. I'm probably on par with how I was when I first went to hospital, but I don't want to be readmitted. It would break Rory's heart. I can't do that to him.

My medication is getting increased and I'll have a mental health nurse visiting me weekly at home, but, other than that, there's not much more they can do. There's just no other support available locally. I really need in-house help, but there's no-one.

I feel angry. I don't want to move to Perth, but I want the support services that my MBU friends get. I don't have the energy required to move to the city, but I can't see how I'll ever get well out here.

In An Ideal World

In an ideal world, I would have more children.  I would love to have at least one more, maybe two.

But this is not an ideal world.

Due to my health, we have decided to stop at two.  I can't keep getting postnatal depression and ending up in hospital.  The likelihood of it happening again will increase with each child, and I have to have c-sections if I have any more.  I'm just putting it out there because people will ask.  They started asking before Flynn was even born.  If you reply, "We're done," you often get the response, "Aww go on, have another one."  These are the people who don't know what my family and I have been through.  I have to excuse their ignorance.  If they knew and had any sort of decency, they wouldn't say such things.

This decision has caused me untold amounts of grief.  I never thought it would cause me to feel this way.  I always thought I'd be happy with two.  Two kids would suit my personality - I'm an introvert, I like my space, I like to do things besides raising kids, yet I don't cope well with too much on my plate.  I've told myself that there are lots of advantages to only having two kids. We don't need a bigger car to fit more luggage and an extra carseat. Once they're both in full-time school I can do other things, like nursing home visits.  We won't be so busy with extracurricular activities.  Holidays will be cheaper.

But still I grieve.

I never understood people who have felt unhappy that they couldn't have lots of kids.  Be grateful with the ones you've got, I've thought.  Some people can't have any.  I've had that said to me.  It hurts.  Now I understand how they feel. 

I just don't understand why I feel this way.

2015: The Year of Limitations

I'm heading into 2016 much the same way I've been moving throughout 2015....straining.

It has been a challenging year. My physical health had suffered. The pregnancy with Flynn was just all round harder than it was with Rory. I was sicker, I was tireder (read: exhausted), my body was depleted of vital nutrients. Flynn just seemed to suck everything out of me, and I feel like all I have left is a withered shell. Next year I'll need to put in the hard yards at the physio if my abdominal diastasis has any chance of repair. I know it's normal for the body to not be the same after multiple pregnancies, but I've lost a lot of self-confidence since people have been commenting on it.

My respite this year has been my afternoon naps with Rory. Is it sad that these have been the highlight of my day? Around the time of his second birthday, Rory decided he was going to drop his afternoon sleep. I thought, Not on your life. So, I started having afternoon naps with him in my bed. He loved this and we'd both sleep for about two hours. It was the only way I could get through the day and face 'arsenic hour'.  I was criticised by a few people for this who thought he should learn to sleep alone. But what was initially bothersome became a blessing. It was a wonderful time cuddling with my little boy. I'm a bit sorry it has now come to an end, and he's gone back to sleeping by himself in the afternoons in his new big boy bed.

Not only has my physical health taken a battering, but so has my mind. The two are connected and it's horrid what sleep deprivation can do. Most days, my mind feels like a scrambled egg. I'll remember someone's birthday, but can't remember why I opened the fridge door. People joke about mothers being forgetful, but it just shows why sleep deprivation is used as a form of torture during war time. Due to my postnatal suffering, Duncan and I have had to make some hard decisions about family planning. This has caused me more grief than I ever thought it would.

I'm not the only one who has found this year difficult. I know of marriages that have ended and, being pregnant and emotional, this has affected me quite deeply. My cousin and her husband of 18 years split in April (they have two children, aged 14 and 12). The director of the two plays I was in last year also had her marriage end and she moved to Perth. This meant the sequel to the World War 1 commemorative play I was in last year was in jeopardy, but a friend who was in last year's cast put her hand up to direct and the show went on.

This year I was limited theatrically. When the dates for the next play were announced, I knew I'd have to decline reprising my role (it was a month after Flynn was due).  It was flattering that they wanted me so badly they found a way for me to be in it. My role was pre-filmed and shown on a giant screen. So, I was in it, but not in it.  I was actually in the Mother Baby Unit for the show's entire run.

There were other disappointments - the Eagles losing the Grand Final, my book being rejected four times so far, the death of my hen, Gloria.

It was not all bad. I got my Flynn.

Still, I think 2016 will be a year of recovery.

What It's Like Being Home

I was discharged from the Mother Baby Unit two weeks ago tomorrow.  While it's a relief in some ways to be home, in other ways it's frightening.  I was dreading being left on my own at the mercy of two small people.  Despite stern talks with myself that I'm the adult here, the isolation still scared me.  I didn't want to spend my life counting down the hours until Duncan came home.  Plus it's harvest, so I'd be really thrown in the deep end in the early days of mothering two kids.

My first day alone with them was exhausting.  While nothing went drastically wrong, I felt inadequate to meet their needs.  Rory wanted me to play with him.  Flynn wanted to feed.  Flynn needed to be settled to sleep.  Rory needed stories and an afternoon nap.  Then there were baths.  Thank goodness for a lovely friend from the farm who dropped off dinner and dessert for us (she has five kids herself; she's amazing).

I've bought a Manduca baby carrier off ebay and I'm just waiting for it to arrive.  Flynn still catnaps in 15 minute blocks and I need my hands free sometimes.  Then I might actually be able to cook occasionally.

Duncan has his break between 5:30-7:30 each evening to help me with arsenic hour before jumping back on the header to work 'til 1am some nights.  But one night he couldn't come home and I had a panic attack.  I was completely over it!  Last time I came home from the MBU it was seeding.  This time it's harvest.  God willing, there will be no third time though.

I've been lamenting the lack of support available for country people, and part of me wishes we could move to Perth where there are more options for those with mental illness.  We've been trying to find a nanny, then we thought we found one, but she got another job!  But now we have a friend from church coming to be our nanny part-time as she was looking for some work before she starts studying in February.  This is a HUGE blessing!

Each day still feels like a hard slog.  There have been times when both boys have been melting down at the same time and all I can do is sit on the couch and hold both of them while they cry.  Other times, it has been a joy to play with them.  Rory is a very loving big brother to Flynn, and not a day goes by where he doesn't make me laugh at least once.

Quote of the Day

When you have depression, simply existing is a full time job.
- Unknown

5 More Health Problems I Had While in Hospital

As if having postnatal depression and anxiety wasn't enough...

1.  The Flu
At first the nurses thought it might be mastitis, but it turned out to be the flu.  My temperature went up to 39 and I had a sore, achy body.  I was kept in isolation for a day so as not to spread it to the other ladies and babies.

2.  Low Vitamin D, Iron and Calcium
I've only ever been low in iron before.  I guess the pregnancy and postnatal period drained my body. Now I'm on a variety of supplements.

3.  A Rash
A hideous rash started on my face and spread right down my chest and my arms.  The doctors think it was an allergic reaction to an antibiotic they put me on (I've never been allergic to any medication before).  In the new year, I'll be heading back to this hospital for testing in the immunology department to confirm this.

4.  Abnormal Blood Tests
Routine blood tests showed there might be something wrong with my thyroid and hormone levels, and there was a possibility there could be a growth on my pituitary gland.  They repeated the tests, just to make sure it wasn't a mistake, and thankfully the initial test was wrong.  Phew!

5.  Abdominal Diastasis
The nurses were concerned that my stomach was still rather protruding and wanted the doctor to check me out.  After ruling out a hernia, he got a physiotherapist to see me and it turns out I have a 3cm abdominal muscle separation.  I carried all out the front with Flynn and my already weak abdominal muscles were stretched to capacity.  I have a few months of physio ahead and, if that doesn't work, I'll opt for surgery.  The last thing I need is people asking me if I'm pregnant again!

What It's Like Here

I've been in this special hospital ward for mothers and babies for almost four weeks now, and I'm pleased to say it looks like I'll finally be discharged this Friday.

It has been a turbulent past few weeks.  I entered this place at a very low point and Flynn was the most unsettled he'd ever been.  He screamed so much the first night I was in a strange place of feeling glad the nurses were handling him, yet yearning to go to him at the same time.  For most of our stay, he's been sleeping in the nursery at night, with the night staff bringing him in to me for feeds.  Now he's in my room as I prepare for home.  He was in our room at home for the first five weeks of his life as I felt I needed him near me.  Duncan wasn't too happy about this as he is a light sleeper, but he agreed because it was easier for me.  Now I can't wait to get home and get Flynn settled in his own room.  Every snort and snuffle keeps me awake!

At times it has felt like one step forward, three steps back.  My thoughts have descended to some very dark places as my relationship with Flynn deteriorated at times.  The anger and frustration at his lack of sleeping was like a volcano threatening to erupt, and I'm thankful for staff who have stepped in to help.  Thankfully I am feeling much more settled, and Flynn is now on medication for reflux and is starting to sleep a bit more (it's still a challenge though).  I now have mandatory naps in the afternoon and the staff watch Flynn for me, as they noticed I find the afternoons a real challenge with sleep deprivation.

The staff and patients are lovely and I will never forget the love and support they have shown me.  I have formed good friendships with the other ladies here (we even have our own secret Facebook group) and we plan to keep in touch after discharge.  I have refused visitors a lot as I need to focus on my recovery and I really haven't felt like talking.  Some people don't get it; they think it's going to be like visiting someone in hospital with a broken leg or something.  I don't have time for people who expect me to be my old self.

So, now I prepare for home.

I want to go home.  I want to be with Rory.  It has been really hard on him.

But I'm scared.

How it Happened

How did I end up here again?

I felt so good after having Flynn.  When I had Rory, the 'love button' switched off on Day 3 and I struggled to feel warm fuzzies for him.  With Flynn, it continued and, despite a few teary days from tiredness, I felt well.  I had a good experience in the Albany hospital.  Despite being short-staffed and under the pump, the midwives were lovely and professional.  Yet I still wanted to be discharged three days after giving birth.  The hospital environment was much too noisy, and I missed Duncan and Rory.

Since I felt like I missed out on enjoying Rory's newborn days, I was determined to relish the cuddles with Flynn.  On Day 1 he mostly slept.  Day 2 was a different story.  He wanted to feed constantly and wouldn't settle when I tried to put him in the bassinet.  That was fine with me.  I enjoyed having him in my arms and holding him close.  I even co-slept with him, despite it being against hospital policy.  Too bad, I thought.  The midwives were too busy to help me sometimes and I'd be waiting for ages.  Plus, I couldn't get out of bed all the time after my c-section.  Flynn just wanted to be nestled in my arms, so we made it work.  I told myself it wouldn't last forever.

When we went back to my parents' house, Flynn continued to want to sleep in my arms and would wake immediately if I attempted to put him down.  Sleep deprivation started to take its toll, but I thought I was still coping well.  My huge stomach was slowly shrinking and I was in good spirits compared to when Rory was born.

After we went home to the farm, Flynn's pattern of only sleeping when held continued.  His cries broke my heart and I didn't want him to feel abandoned.  I just wanted to protect him.  As the weeks went by, I realised I had not slept longer than two hours at a time for a fair while.  But still we were back at church when Flynn was 11 days old and the week after that I even did mission news.  I couldn't wait to get out and about and show Flynn off, even though there was a lot more organisation involved with getting out of the house with two kids.

Gradually old patterns of thinking began to take hold.  I was frustrated with the restrictions placed on me after my c-section.  I felt like I was stuck in Groundhog Day.  My mum came to stay after Duncan went back to work and despite our good relationship this time, it was hard on both of us.  Rory was tiring my mum out.  We played pass the baby as Flynn still wouldn't sleep in his bassinet.  I missed spending time with Rory.  I rarely went outside.  It annoyed me that I didn't get to have a shower until midday, if at all.  I felt Duncan and my mum were getting tired of doing a lot of things for me.  I was getting very little sleep at night and no chance to nap during the day.  I started to shut myself off, refusing visitors and no longer looked forward to going out.  I was starting to get fed up with Flynn's refusal to sleep on his own.

When Flynn was two weeks old, I discovered he had thrush in his mouth and I ended up having to be treated for it, too.  Then I suspected he had reflux, but when I raised this with health professionals, they just fobbed me off, saying lots of babies were windy and vomit etc.  But my gut instincts told me it was more than that.  I'd seen it with Rory, but it was worse with Flynn.  It explained why he liked to sleep held upright.  We tilted up his bed, but it didn't make a lot of difference.  He appeared to be in pain when lying flat, gulping, burping, farting and vomiting.  His nose was congested, like he had a bad cold, but I knew it was the reflux getting into his nose.  Flynn spent many nights sleeping on Duncan's chest as it was the only way we could get any sleep, but Duncan still wasn't getting much sleep.

On Wednesday 28th October, I finally crashed.  I had an argument with my mum and she said some things that hurt me deeply.  Rory was having a tantrum, Flynn was crying, I was crying and just couldn't cope anymore.  I called the PANDA Perinatal Depression and Anxiety Australia helpline because some dark images had started to come into my mind and I wanted to end my life.  They called Duncan and he came back from Perth as fast as he could (he'd gone up just for the day for an appointment).  A lovely friend from church came over to help.  I spent that night in our little local hospital where I could be kept safe and get some sleep.

They wanted to get me a bed in a Mother Baby Unit, but I didn't want to go.  I didn't want to be away from Rory as I was already feeling guilty that Flynn took up so much of my time.  When I was in the MBU with Rory, there was only one with eight beds.  Now there was a second one (also with eight beds) at Perth's newest hospital.  That one had a bed available and I eventually agreed I needed to go.  I was angry at myself for 'failing', that I hadn't learnt anything from last time, that I'd slipped back into old ways of thinking.  Like last time, the staff and patients are lovely and supportive.

So, here I am.

It's Happened Again

I thought I'd beaten it this time.

I thought I was doing well.

Maybe I was fooling myself.

I'm back in the Mother Baby Unit with Flynn - a different one this time - after relapsing with postnatal depression and anxiety. I've been here for 11 days so far and discharge seems like a long way away.

I'm reading Trusting God by Jerry Bridges at the moment because it's a fight to trust God when I feel so angry and I don't understand why He's allowed this to happen again.

Diary of an Incubator: The Battle Plan

Having had postnatal depression with Rory, there is a 50-70% chance I'll get it again with this baby.

But while I'm at higher risk, my doctor has also told me I'm at lower risk as well, because I'll know the warning signs and where to get help.

I've been encouraged by my doctor and various friends to think about what to do in advance.  I need a 'battle plan', a way to fight PND and put boundaries in place to protect myself.  The sad thing is that family and friends are sometimes the ones I need protecting from.  Not ALL of them - but some don't seem to understand.

Here are some things we've put in place to protect me from pressures and expectations as we adjust to being a family of four:

• Have the baby in Albany.  Part of the reasoning for this was that we know less people down there.  Less people = less visitors at the hospital.  When Rory was finally delivered by emergency c-section, I hadn't slept in 24 hours.  Then I couldn't sleep from the adrenaline high from having just had a baby.  Then it was the calling and texting everybody.  Feeds took an hour and a half.  Then I was hooked up to an electronic pump because my milk didn't come in until Day 5.  Even when Rory was asleep, I couldn't rest because I was either (a) like a cow on a milking machine, (b) in discomfort from my c-section, or (c) dealing with staff coming in all the time, banging doors (I know it's their job, I just wished they'd go away).  With visitors on top of that it was all too much.

• Put on my Facebook status that we are very grateful for people's messages of support etc., but ask them please not to call.  The last thing I want to deal with when I'm too sleep-deprived to construct a sentence properly is people calling to have a chat.  They're welcome to email, but it may take me a fair while to get back to them.

• Step down from the ladies' fellowship deacon position at church (this will happen in August) and the secretary position for our tennis club (I did this in April).  Say no to everything else.  You'd think some people would have more sense than to ask a pregnant lady or new mum to start doing more stuff, but some people are a bit thick it seems.

• Not do anything, go anywhere, see anyone unless I want to.  I don't want to sit inside, feeling trapped inside my own house, but nor do I want to be pressured by other people.  I realise now I have Rory to consider, so we'll probably have to go out a bit otherwise he'll go stir crazy.  However, I did get really cross at Duncan for wanting to go visit his relatives after the baby's born.  "Oh, but Auntie So-and-So will want to see the baby."   I don't give a rat's about what Auntie So-and-So wants.  Some people have not made A SCRAP OF EFFORT to visit us on either farm we've lived on and keep expecting us to go to them.  NO WAY!

•  Say no to visitors, unless they're the helpful, encouraging kind.  I don't want anyone staying with us who thinks they're here for a holiday, or is offended by breastfeeding.

• Get outside for some fresh air, even if it's just to sit on the verandah and watch Rory and the dogs play in the garden.

Last week, a whole range of emotions from when Rory was little came flooding back.
What if my mum goes from being the great help she is now to how she was when Rory was born?
What if I end up surrounded by unhelpful people?
What if I can't juggle spending time with both Rory and the baby?

I was panic-stricken, but then I realised that many of these fears are unfounded and God will be there right with me. 

Diary of an Incubator: FAQs the Second Time Around

I answered these questions I was commonly asked during my pregnancy with Rory here.  I've decided to do it again (with a few extras) to see how much has changed the second time around.

Where are you having the baby?
Last time we went to a private hospital in Perth.  It was a pretty good experience, but there are still out-of-pocket expenses when you go private.  We can't afford maternity cover on one wage, so we've made the choice to go public in Albany.  The new Albany hospital wasn't open when Rory was born, but I've since visited a friend and her baby in there and was impressed.  There are all single rooms and it looks very flash.  The only downside is that partners can't stay the night, but my parents live a stone's throw from the hospital, so Duncan and Rory will stay with them.
It's also much easier going to Albany for appointments with my parents there to babysit, instead of going all the way to Perth with a toddler in tow.

Public or private? 
As above.

Are you having a boy or a girl?
My 19 week scan is next week, but, like with Rory, we won't be finding out the sex.  It's really nice having a surprise after all the hard work of giving birth.  Finding out the sex to me is like unwrapping your presents early because you couldn't wait until your birthday.

Are you excited/nervous/*insert some other emotion here*?
Again, all of the above.  The scourge of postnatal depression still lurks in the back of my mind.  The statistics are that if you've had PND previously, there's a 50-70% chance you'll get it again.  But then a lot of women are also fine.  My doctor has tried to reassure me that this time I'll be watched like a hawk, there will be safety nets in place because others are aware of my history, and I know where to go for support.  I've remained on my antidepressants throughout the pregnancy because my doctor has assured me it's safe to do so.  However, towards the end, she's going to reduce the dosage slightly as there is a chance the baby will suffer from withdrawals when he/she is born.
I'm actually a lot more excited about meeting the baby this time around.  I know what it's like now, and I do miss newborn cuddles (an active toddler who is too busy for cuddles is not quite the same).  I feel a lot of love for the bubba already.

Have you had any morning sickness?
Yes, oh yes.  See here.

How are you going with the low starch diet?
I haven't been on that for over a year now, thanks to my Bioflow wristband.

Have you had any strange cravings?
Nope, I'm always very boring in that regard.  No chalk or gravel for me haha.  Like with Rory, I've craved a lot of carbs (pizza and ravioli are favourites at the moment).  I also can't get enough Cookies and Cream icecream.

Do you have a bump?
I've had a bump since I was six weeks, and being summer, there were only so many 'tent dresses' I could find to hide it.  Winter is definitely a lot easier to be hiding pregnancy in the early stages.

Are you wanting a girl?
No, I'm not.  I don't need a 'pigeon pair'.  I love my little fellow and I'd be more than happy with two boys.  For us, it's all about numbers, not gender.  When people tell me they're praying I'll have a girl, I tell them, "Please don't.  Pray that the bubba will be healthy and sleep well.  Thanks."

Is this the last?
We honestly don't know.  A lot hinges on my postnatal health this time around.  If I get PND again, we'll stop with two.

How do you think Rory will go with the baby?
This has been bothering me a bit.  Rory doesn't like babies.  When one crawls up to him, he looks disgusted and whinges at it, likes he wants the bubba to go away.  He much prefers hanging out with big kids, but I've been telling him gently, "The big kids were nice to you when you were a baby, now it's your turn to be kind to small bubbas."  I do worry that he'll be jealous and will hate me because I won't have enough time for him anymore.  I'm a bit sad that my special time with just my firstborn is coming to an end.  But I guess we'll all adjust...eventually.

I Can See Clearly Now by Johnny Nash

Today is the two year anniversary of the day I went to hospital.  Two years since I hit the bottom of the pit and began the long and painful process of recovering from the grips of postnatal depression.

Perhaps I shouldn't be remembering this date, but it's kind of hard to forget, especially since it's also a good friend's birthday.

This song reminds me of how far God has brought me since that time. I praise His name that I can see again, that He has cast the darkness and the fog away.

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone.
I can see all obstacles in my way.
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind.
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright) sun-shiny day.

I think I can make it now, the pain is gone.
All of the bad feelings have disappeared.
Here is the rainbow I've been prayin' for.
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright) sun-shiny day.

Lyrics sourced from here.