Posts Tagged "Tough Times"

Right Now

Posted by Josie on Jan 29, 2010 in Uncategorized | 49 comments

You have all been so lovely the last few days. The comments on my post about the Health Visitor’s worries about Kai have been endlessly comforting and supporting and I am so grateful for you taking the time to respond so thoughtfully. Thank you.

I had a bit of bad day with it all yesterday. Actually, I had A LOT of a bad day. There were moments there were I could genuinely have opened the front door and run as fast as my legs could carry me.

I didn’t, obviously. Instead I wrestled the ferocious ball of frustration and bad-temper that is my son till bedtime, put him to bed without a bath and went downstairs and cried. And cried. And cried some more.

I doubted everything yesterday. EVERYTHING about myself, about Kai, about my abilities and suitability as a mother, about my perception of my life and how perhaps that differs from reality.

And do you know what scared me most? That maybe there is absolutely nothing wrong with him at all. That he is just spirited, and wilful and frustrated with the world  – no different from most other toddlers.

And weirdly, this made me feel like shit.

I convinced myself that every toddler is like Kai, that all mums have to manage behaviour like his, and as such, the fact that I’m struggling to cope with it so much means I am just weak, neurotic and failing miserably. You probably have three children like Kai. Ten. And you still manage to do normal things like brush your hair, and eat, and go out.

Everyone tells me he is delightful, and fun, and charming and he IS! Maybe what I endure behind closed doors I have blown vastly out of proportion.

Maybe I am just not cut out for all this at all.

No, don’t get me wrong. I don’t want there to be anything ‘wrong’ with Kai. It’s just that the thought that it is supposed to be like this, supposed to be so impossibly hard and feel so unmanageable ALL THE TIME just made me go cold.

Luckily, I have good friends. Good, kind, honest, supportive friends who listen (and I could list hundreds of you, thank you so much).

I have a husband who has been through it all with me and keeps me grounded.

And after being told an awful lot of sense, I realised this.

Do you know what? Kai is hard work. He is really, really hard work.

I’m not saying its some kind of competition about ‘who has it the hardest’, or that other parents don’t find it hard either,but the reality of life with Kai is incredibly challenging and I don’t think anyone could question that.

He’s always been hard work – early months of constant crying and refusal to be any where but attached to me, followed by endless battles getting him to cope with transitions and change and him resisting everything. The speech delay and the near-constant tantrums and the freak outs at the slightest thing are just a continuation of something that’s been going on from the beginning.

He can be lovely of course. He is obviously bright, and can be so much fun and entertaining. He charms everyone around him and can be fabulous company. He plays beautifully, when in the mood to, and if you get it right with him you get it SO right and it is wonderful.

But this is offset by the most rigid personality I have ever come across. It is offset by moods completely dependent on things being just how he wants them to be and endless frustration and tears and anger when they are not. And I can honestly say? The hard times far outweigh the good times right now.

I am not enjoying motherhood right now. It’s not much fun to be honest.

A vast proportion of my day is spent ‘coping’ with Kai, managing his moods and single-minded determination and enduring the frequent screaming, crying, hitting, pulling, outpouring of his emotions. Every single day involves a good deal of time listening to long bouts of crying. It’s incredibly draining, exhausting. And I defy anyone to not find it hard.

And the speech thing IS worrying. The constant, weird, babbled gobbledegook? The fact that has somehow ‘forgotten’ how to say the odd word he could say a few months back? That he makes NO attempt to imitate words yet will copy the sounds he hears himself making on recordings? Of course it’s worrying. I’m not saying it won’t right itself, I’m sure it will, but obviously it’s going to be a concern to me. What kind of mother would I be if it wasn’t?

Whether he fits some kind of ‘label’ or not, whether he is like other kids or not, whether I find it harder than you or anyone else? It doesn’t really matter. Deep down I know it will be fine. I know that he will be fine, that he will grow out of most stuff, and we will survive. I know that really I am very lucky, he is healthy, so am I. I know it could all be so much worse.

But it doesn’t change how hard it is right now. It doesn’t change how much I am struggling.

What matters is I love him. I love him so much it actually hurts me to think about it. I see so much positive in him, despite all the bad stuff, and I am so enormously proud of him, of his fierce strength and passion.

I know I am doing the best I can, I know I am doing a good job, even, because I care about all this stuff and I think about it and I want to make Kai happy.

I just want to be a better mother for him.

I want to figure out what is he needs that I seem to be missing.

Mostly, I just want to see him happy.

And I want to see me happy too.

Please Send Wine and Cake

Posted by Josie on Nov 28, 2009 in Uncategorized | 51 comments

*WARNING: In line with my honest disclosure policy and commitment to blogging with integrity, I should warn you that this a whiney post*

Kai is going through a phase.

At least, I think he is. It could be teething, it often is. I fear not, however, I fear that this is just HIM.

I never realised this about babies, before I had one that is. I figured that they grew and stuff (obviously), but I never realised THEY changed so much. Their needs, their personalities. That periodically they would become demon children from hell as they transitioned to a new stage.

Kai I think is in one such transition. After he started walking we had a month where he was absolutely delightful – everything was fun and exciting and interesting. We’d spend all day going on adventures and discovering the world from an upright position and all the many delights it had to offer – puddles, pidgeon chasing, running with wild abandon through the shopping centre and trying to steal things from shops. I loved it, and, as I always do I stupidly, rested on my laurels and thought “Ahhh this is lovely. THIS is what Kai will be like now. Life shall be good from now on”.

And then came this week.

This week where the my lovely, smiley boy was replaced with Lord of the Nazgul, complete with ear piercing shriek which he proceeded to unleash, with tears and biting and hitting and thrashing around, roughly every 7 minutes.

Here he is in all his glory:

NOTHING has pleased this boy this week. He doesn’t want to play, he doesn’t want to go outside, he doesn’t want to make dens on the sofa, or build things, or colour. He most certainly does not want to take a nap. All he wants to do is shout at me with nonsensical words, throw things, attempt to scale the furniture and get his mitts on every type of easily breakable thing in the house. Every trip to a public place has resulted in a prostrate, screaming child, and me trying to wrestle him, plank-like, into his pushchair by pinning him with my knee and fending off well-aimed kicks to my head. I am THAT mother, smiling wanly and embarrassingly, as the world looks on slightly pityingly obviously wondering why I seem unable to control my child and worrying that his head seems to be covered in rather nastly looking bruises (from throwing himself backwards and hitting it on every protruding edge in sight).

Our routine has gone to pot. Again. This is the other thing you don’t expect as a parent. You are told that routines are important for a child so you do your upmost to settle into a consistent rhythm of eating and sleeping. And it works, beautifully, for about 6 weeks. Two months max. Then you find they suddenly change the rules – they want to get up earlier, or aren’t ready for bed at the same time. They need less naps, or shorter naps, or more snacks. And you are left running to keep up.

I HATE these times. They never fail to make me feel incompetent, insecure, useless and doubt every single aspect of my parenting.

Of course, it will settle again, it always does. But in the meantime I am in my own personal hell and miserable with it. I’m still so tired anyway, with my blood pressure all over the place (turns out that’s why I keep falling over), and I’m having to spend my days wrestling with a small, ferocious ball of rage.

The worst thing is that he is always as good as gold when in the company of others, like his grandmas, so meaning they don’t really understand what all the fuss is about or why Ant and I periodically take on a grey, shrivelled look and look at our child slightly fearfully, worried he might ‘go off’ at any second.

God only knows what’s up with the child. I fear a lot of it is frustration – we had a similar patch just before he learnt to walk. He is obviously so desperate to communicate, babbling desperately and earnestly at every moment. Shaking his head and gesturing wildly. But what ever developmental thing that needs to ‘click’ to make talking possible just hasn’t happened yet. He struggles to formulate more than a handful of basic words although understands nearly everything you say to him. You can almost see him, trapped in this little body of his that hasn’t quite caught up to his brain. It’s no wonder he’s so angry really, I think I would be too.

Luckily time heals all ills, no doubt he WILL learn to talk eventually and this frustration will ease and all will settle again. Until the next thing of course.

And in the meantime, I’m left with this…

Please send cake. And wine. I mean it. For the love of god. Please.

I’m sure you’ve all been there. Any advice always appreciated xx

Fatigue Wars Episode IV – A New Hope

Posted by Josie on Nov 13, 2009 in Me | 24 comments

First of all, can I just say… how lovely are all you lot??! The answer is VERY lovely. Very lovely indeed. Thank you so much for all the comments on my last blog post and the many emails and twitterings you have sent my way.

I’m back from the doctors minus two great big vial’s full of blood with that wonderful Tony Hancock sketch running through my head. And since all nine of my pints have been seriously compromised this morning by at least a foot’s worth I am having a sit and a bacon sandwich to make up for it.

I’m feeling much more positive. The doctor rightly pointed out that, given my history, if my Fibromyalgia was relapsing she would expect my pain levels to have increased along with the fatigue and for me to have crawled into her office begging for drugs. And this is a good point as, actually, my pain levels are ok. I did a lot of walking around yesterday and although nearly fell over a couple of times and had to prop my eyelids open so as not to fall asleep in my over-priced under-heated microwave burger at the Blue Planet Aquarium, I did make to the evening without much pain. More importantly I didn’t wake up with ANY which if it had been the Fibro would have been very far from the case, given it’s tendency to make a 20 minute leisurely stroll one day feel like you’ve been run over by an 18 wheeler truck the next.

So we’re testing for low iron and thyroid function and liver function and WI Christmas Tombola and Beatle Drive function all the other usual functions they need to test for in these cases. Results will be back on Tuesday so I’ll keep you posted.

And I am stopping panicking. Chances are this is fixable, just a blip on the radar of my unstoppable plan to write a best seller by the time I’m 30, or, at least, be the first person to achieve world domination through the power of Twitter.

In other news, I made a big decision this week. It is probably not beyond the realms of possibility that my low energy levels are not being helped by the fact that a certain little 16 month old has still been breastfeeding up to 7 or 8 times a day, day and night. Lets face it, he does NOT need this much milk any more, whatever his opinions are on the matter. He eats well and is a big grown up boy now who could probably make pigeon chasing into a successful athletic career, can do all the actions to ’round and round the garden’ AND ‘wind the bobbin up’, and could show you the difference between a train, a tractor, a digger and a car without even blinking. His separation anxiety is significantly better; time away from me now being more treat than trauma. His independence and self-confidence is growing more and more by the day.

It is time. I am ready. Weaning Kai off the good stuff has begun.

I’m not expecting him to stop feeding completely but I am expecting him to substantially cut down the amount he feeds to just 2-3 times in 24 hours And guess what… he’s done it. Nearly every day this week he’s gone from early morning to bedtime with lots of snacks, good meals, distraction and lots of cuddles, and NO distress. Which proves to me that he’s ready too, in a way I hadn’t expected. Kai now has a good breastfeed before bed, one in the night, and then one in the early hours (after which he’ll sometimes go back to sleep). My plan is that eventually we’ll drop the night-time one (when I’m feeling VERY brave and not so tired!) leaving two feeds a day, which is plenty for a boy his age and will still be giving him all the lovely nutrients and immunity boosting benefits that longer-term breastfeeding still offers.

That gives me ALL DAY for my body to do something other than make milk and get to work doing more important things like digesting large quantities of cake and stopping me from falling asleep at random and inappropriate moments.

And the best thing? I look forward to sitting and feeding Kai now. Rather than it be a draining chore that I resent (which is what it had become) with my mind wandering to what I would rather be doing, I sit and I am present and I enjoy the feel of him close to me and breathe in his baby smell and relish every second, re-connecting after a long day of adventures and growing up in which he seems to need me less and less.

I am so proud of him. And so proud of me too. This is a big step for us but the right one.

So there we go. Now, I’m off for a sleep. My bed right now is more alluring than blogging, than twitter, than eating biscuits, and that’s saying something – I must be really tired. I am tired, I’m exhausted in fact. But hopefully only temporarily. And thanks to all of your wonderful supportive words and positive encouragement I am NOT going to let it get me down, whatever this is.

Onwards and upwards. Or sideways and downwards as is more the case for me right now.

Whatever. BA-DOING!! (that was me bouncing back)

x

Fear

Posted by Josie on Nov 11, 2009 in Me | 32 comments

I am blogging this morning in a desperate attempt to stay awake.

Kai is busy doing things that Kai bear’s do: hiding things in various places to be retrieved later, pushing things round in his beloved new fire engine. He has a small plastic duck in his mouth and my cardigan wrapped around his neck. So normal day for him.

I, however, am not feeling quite so breezy. I keep falling asleep, my limbs feel like lead, I am dizzy and wobbly on my feet. And I am scared, very, very scared.

I don’t think this is low iron, or lack of sleep, or over-exertion. I think this is my FUCKING Fibromyalgia (and yes people with sensitive ears I WILL swear), and the thought of that taking a hold again makes my stomach lurch and my skin go cold in a way I can’t possibly make you understand. The doctor won’t see me till Friday but I know that’s what she’ll say. The pain levels are ok, but this overwhelming fatigue is how it starts. I have been here many, many times. Hopefully this will be a bad couple of weeks, maybe a month and then it will lift. But last time it was years. I thought I had beaten it, I really had.

I cannot go back to being ill again. I can’t. I am grabbing you by the virtual lapels right now and shaking you because you have to listen here. I cannot be that person again.

For six years I was a pale, floppy can’t-do shadow, managing to walk to the end of the road and back  on a good day. I won’t tell you about the bad days. My life revolved around wheelchairs, and overwhelming pain that makes labour look like a walk in the park, pacing, and positive thinking and TAKING IT FUCKING EASY.

I don’t want to take it easy. I want to be alive and not a ghost person. I want to DO and get to be the person that I AM – full of energy and enthusiasm, and not some miserable, pathetic not-Josie.

And the real bitch is that everything was going so well. I was feeling happy and settled, I was FINALLY getting going with life and doing things that felt right and that were taking off. I wasn’t depressed or anxious or all the other things that no doubt my doctor and everyone else will assume is respsonsible for the relapse. I was doing great, I really, really was.

It.is.not.fair.

I don’t care if I sound petulant and whiney. I know it could be a lot worse. This illness won’t kill me but my god it kills my life. It kills my plans, my ambition, my potential.  And it has done this over and over again my whole life.

I will not let it do it to me again.

I will not put my life on hold again.

You hear me?