Maternal Moulting!

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The toll on the female body when creating life is immense and it is only afterwards that you see quite how powerful hormones are!

Holy Hormones Batman I’m…..MOULTING!!!

And not just a little either. I am beginning to get rather concerned about my post pregnancy plumage!

My hair is coming out in handfuls, fistfuls, bucketloads! I’m scared.

I feel like the witch in ‘The Wizard of Oz’….’I'm Moulting….I’m Moulting!’

Apparently I am in the throes of ‘Post Partum hair loss’ and it’s quite common. It’s quite common for your hair to lose its grip all of a sudden and detach itself from your scalp at an astounding rate! What’s not so common is the feeling this elicits.

For all my male readers, I now understand the fear of the receding hairline. The fear that with every brush of your hair you notice a little more scalp than last time. The fear that when you wake up tomorrow, you may well have no hair left at all. I don’t want to belittle this feeling by saying that it’s acceptable for men to be bald but you have to agree that it must be far easier to be bald if you’re a man compared with  being a bald woman.

Why would I say this? Well it’s obvious surely? Lustrous locks are inextricably  linked to feminine beauty and allure. Think of all the adjectives that are used to describe your ‘glossy mane’ and ‘crowning glory’ and then imagine, as a woman, losing that symbol of femininity.

Google Images

Google Images Gail Porter

This led me to reflect on Gail Porter. For those people who don’t know who she is, she is/ was a presenter and achieved notoriety after posing naked and having the image projected onto the Houses of Parliament. I think she gained an army of adoring ‘lad mag’ reading fans from this too (oh can it get any better?). Well, for those of you that don’t know, Gail developed Alopecia and for someone who had been a bit of a pin-up and a prominent presenter, losing her hair must have been awful. I mean really, truly awful. I’ve been thinking about what she must have felt as her hair fell out with no explanation and no idea of when (or if) it would grow back again. She lost a lot and I’m not just talking about hair.

The amount of hair that I’m finding on my brush and floor prompted me to read up about post partum hair loss and how far it can go. Hmmmm. Shouldn’t have done that. Now I’m convinced that I have ‘Post Partum Alopecia’ and I will lose all of my male ‘Maternal Mayhem’ readers (ahem) as the weeks go on and my crowning glory winds up down the plug hole!!! Don’t even get me started about my eyebrows!!!! I mean honestly, why can’t I lose the inconvenient hair? The hair that I have spent years of my life shaving, plucking and preening so that I don’t look like something from the 1500s! The hair that Julia Roberts forgot to shave and caused an outrage with – remember that? Julia….no!

Google Images Julia Roberts

Google Images Julia Roberts

Google Images Gail Porter

Google Images Gail Porter

A woman’s self-esteem is a fragile thing and we are often our worst critics but at least I have an idea that when my raging  hormones calm down a bit, my hair should grow back. However, if you do see a new mother out and about, don’t mention her hair, eyebrows or the lack thereof; it’s probably a very touchy subject!!

We Can Rebuild Her!!

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I seem to be spending a lot of time lately worrying about weight!

After last week’s post, I began thinking about how much the parachute belly bothers me. I am not, nor ever will be a Supermodel. Clearly.

I read a post by another blogger this week about his concerted efforts to exercise and how various ailments were hindering his progress: mainly age, weight and recurring niggles! Go to http://scottkennedy.co.uk/2013/03/04/we-can-rebuild-him/  to read the post and see what you think.

I can empathise with this post and the feelings it evokes. When you’re feeling bad about: your health, your shape, your appearance, nothing can really lift you out of the quagmire of doom….apart from ACTION! And so, although I am mainly a ‘glass half empty girl’ ( ‘No way’ I hear you cry! Ha!) I have decided that I am…… The Bionic Woman!! Ooooh yes! We can rebuild her!

That’s right readers…just call me Jaime Sommers!!

I already have the extra sensitive hearing. I can hear a baby cry from four miles away! I also seem to have a left arm that can carry a small chunky boy with no bother whatsoever – obviously a bionic arm in place there methinks cos he’s not light!  However I need a new physique and a general improvement of appearance; something that I’m guessing most post partum ladies are desperate for.

Therefore the treadmill beckoned me back this week, and with the help of a lovely friend who looked after my exceptionally squidgy little baby, I hopped back onto the rolling nightmare machine.

Aaaargh! Why does it hurt so much? And why does it feel as if razor blades are cutting into the back of your throat as you struggle to breathe?? If something is so good for you then why does it feel so bad? And why when I glance down at the display does it say I’ve only been on the blasted thing for EIGHT MINUTES!! What??? NO WAY!!

Am I thin yet?

Surely that torture should produce immediate results? Alas, the world is a cruel cruel place. I am clearly not thin, nor less rotund than I was…eight minutes earlier!

Along with my treadmill endeavours, I have joined a class for mums…oh yes I have (I hate things like this but desperate times and all that). I have joined… ‘Buggyfit’!

Now for all you child free lovelies out there you can carry on sniggering at this but mark my words, you may also find yourself at ‘Buggyfit’ in future years and believe it or not it’s actually very enjoyable. I didn’t do anything like this with my first child as the Post Natal Depression was so crippling that I couldn’t face leaving the house but this time I’m branching out; trying new things and seeing whether I can get myself integrated back into society a little sooner.

Well what on earth is ‘Buggyfit’ I hear you cry! Well as the name suggests you keep fit with your buggy/pram/stroller whatever you want to call it. An exercise class outdoors (or in a big gym/hall) where you can take the baby and work on fitting back into your jeans. It’s also a place where it doesn’t really matter if your baby screams and then throws up all over the place because everyone’s in the same boat; no one’s going to tut at you or be put off by a wailing child – quite refreshing really. I’m actually enjoying going to these sessions and would definitely advise new mums to join something like this, especially if you have Post Natal Depression – it’ll show you that no one copes and that you’re actually doing ok!

After a week of exercise, much heavy breathing and a very red face, I am well on my way to regaining some sort of self confidence. Now all I need to do is sort out my hair, nails, plucking, waxing, underwear shopping……….

A Weighty Issue

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As a new mum I am currently in the throes of ‘trying to lose the baby weight’.

No pressure! Yeah right!

In ‘Celeb-Land’ it seems the norm to pop out a sprog and look incredible mere days later…or hours…or minutes! How? How do they do this? It seems as if some magical transformation takes place; a Fairy Godmother appears with her magic wand and..POOF… all fat  dissipates, dissolves, disappears! Hooray!

Just look at the stars that have had babies recently and the transformations that have ensued. Claire Danes at the Golden Globes for example! Really? Come on!

The 70th Annual Golden Globe Awards in LA

Claire Danes google images

This is Claire one month after having her son. ONE MONTH! I mean honestly, how does this even happen? It’s not just sour grapes on my part is it?

I looked at her on the red carpet and then looked at myself: milk-stained pyjamas; big M&S Granny knickers; greasy hair scraped on top of my head and the unforgiving parachute belly (we’ll get to this in a minute). How was she doing it? We’d had our children within a week or so of each other. Why didn’t I look like that?

Google Images

Victoria Beckham google images

What about Victoria Beckham? As you can see from some of the first pictures that were taken after the birth of her fourth child, she’s not carrying an ounce of extra weight! Grrrrrr!

In one way it’s amazing to have such women as role models. It shows that if you work hard and you want something enough then you can do it. On the other hand, it’s totally unrealistic for the mere mortals of this world to achieve these results weeks after giving birth. We don’t have the time, help, money or resources to enable us to concentrate solely on our figures.

I remember reading an article about the Supermodel Giselle when she’d had her first baby; probably around about the same time that I’d had my first son and was feeling like the walking dead. She gushed about how amazing motherhood was and…how easy it was to get back into shape. If I remember rightly her typical day went something along these lines: get up and have breakfast with the baby; go to the gym for three hours; come home and have lunch with the baby and then go and take the baby to watch daddy at his football practice.

Hmmm. Ok then. Yes I could probably see why it was easy to get back into shape. Three hours in the gym may indeed sort out the parachute belly!

Now if you’ve never had children you won’t be aware of the parachute belly, although you can probably imagine. After ten months of pregnancy your big stretched preggy tummy expels it’s precious cargo and you’re left with…..well I can only describe it as a parachute without any wind. Perhaps a deflated hot air balloon will allow you to picture it more clearly? Either way it’s rather disconcerting to say the least; even more so because of the exceptionally hard stomach that you’ve been waddling around with.

Where do the celebrities store their parachute bellies, that’s what I want to know??? They mustn’t have them – it’s the only answer!! Nearly every friend of mine that’s recently had a baby is talking about their weight, or their tummies and how on earth they’ll ever regain their previous figures. After my first child it took me eighteen months to get back into my jeans!! Eighteen months! That’s unheard of in celeb-ville!

I have therefore come up with the following as possible explanations as to why, with an 11 week old baby, I don’t look like Claire, Victoria, Adriana Lima or Allesandra Ambrosio..

google images Allesandra

google images Allesandra

  • celebrities are all really tall – at least 7ft and so at 5ft 3in I am bound to look like a fat hobbit in comparison
  • they never eat – ever (I can’t do this)
  • if they do happen to eat it’s only lettuce and steamed fish – mmmm
  • they only drink water from natural springs located in the Scottish Highlands and so have amazing skin
  • they have magical powers
  • the skin on their stomachs is super elasticated and snaps back into shape within minutes of giving birth
  • they also have abs like Superman, which, like the elasticated skin, pull all internal organs back into their previous postions beautifully
  • their babies sleep
  • then feed calmly once a day
  • then sleep again, thus enabling said celebrity to have at least 10 hours of sleep a night
  • a Fairy Godmother looks after their baby during the night and most of the day when they will be at the gym, enabling them to have a serene demeanour in all paparazzi photos..

I think I may be spot on with these theories. There can’t really be many other explanations can there?

What’s Breast for Baby?

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Breastfeeding.

This one word can drum up such a heated debate amongst men and women of all ages and generations. As with most things baby related, everyone has a fervent point of view on the subject! And quite rightly so don’t you think?

Right then. Here’s goes. Look away now if I’m likely to offend you with my point of view but you see it’s a topic very close to people’s hearts  (see what I did there?) and so is bound to ruffle a few feathers.

Breastfeeding sucks (sorry I couldn’t help it)! I mean both literally and figuratively: it sucks. It really really does.

Women however, are under immense pressure to breastfeed in today’s society. If you don’t breastfeed it’s almost as if you are an outcast, doomed never to be part of the the elusive ‘Baby Club’. Strangers look at you with scorn and derision as you produce bottle instead of  breast at social functions and random people ‘tut-tut’ you, as you empty your formula into the bottle for your baby’s feed. Mothers that you’ve never met before draw in a sharp breath when you say that you are no longer breastfeeding, or that you’re ‘giving a bottle at night’. Woweee! You’d think you’d committed a crime against humanity!

I have breastfed both of my babies and let me tell you that it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life!  I was adamant that I was going to breastfeed and that I would give my child ‘the best start in life’. Of course I understood that my body was going to produce the best food for my child and that I, in my new role of ‘Mother’, was going to be able to feed and nourish my offspring.

I went to the relevant ante-natal classes with a lovely Midwife, who extolled the virtues of breast milk and all of the ways that it helps both mummy and baby bond after the birth. Quite exciting really. A bit magical if you think about it.

Then…..

birth: horrendous

husband: frightened

me: shell-shocked

baby: starving

nurses: constant

doctors: painful

sleep: non-existent

depression: absolutely!

You see within the first few hours of my son’s life, the text books and midwives’ advice had gone out of the window. It was MATERNAL MAYHEM!!

Breastfeeding is difficult! Very difficult!

If you are tired – you don’t produce much milk.

If you are stressed – you don’t produce much milk.

If you have post-natal depression – you don’t produce much milk.

If you are all of the above then – you don’t produce much milk.

In my experience I’ve found that not having much milk and breastfeeding a hungry baby leads to all sorts of delightful ailments. For example: cracked nipples. Nice.

To be honest ‘cracked nipples’ didn’t sound too bad to me when they were mentioned in the books. So they crack a bit. I could deal with that.

Ummmm, what it really means is a lot more gross and a lot more painful than I could’ve imagined. It’s safe to say that the milk was often pink and didn’t really help me to ‘bond’ with anyone!

Engorgement! Ha! Sounds quite nice really I suppose. I can quite imagine gorging myself on some yummy chocolate eclairs….but alas…no. It’s more like someone twisting a hot knife in the side of your boob and scraping downwards really. Then shoving the heated blade in from the front of your nipple and leaning on it. In a nutshell.

Leaking breasts… you walk around smelling like a lump of mouldy cheese and there are wet patches on your t-shirt where the milk has soaked through. Not the best look.

IMG_0454

Nipples. Who knew they could look like that anyway?

In fact, who knew boobs could look like that? Ouch!

So, after eight weeks of feeding my second son, I’m done with breastfeeding. He is officially weaned off and a happy podgy contented little soul.

Which leads me to think about the women who can’t let go…..what’s that all about?

time-magazine-breastfeeding-cover-time-mag

King Kong meets Godzilla!

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I’m sure that we’ve all seen the wonderful sugary sweet, picture perfect Hollywood film depiction of a family; two perky , positively angelic children that talk so eloquently and share everything wondrously well. They are never: dirty, pick their noses, poo their pants, scream in your face, batter the living daylights out of each other or play with their winkies in front of all and sundry!

Of course they don’t and we all know why don’t why don’t we? Real life isn’t like that! You can’t create the perfectly behaved child!! They are always going to be fascinated with their private parts and who can blame them eh? Most men I know are still unbelievably fixated with their Tinkie Winkies and fiddle with them all day long!

Children are obviously going to develop their personalities and work hard to assert their independence with no regard whatsoever for the dainty nuances of social etiquette.

You will of course, know exactly what I am referring to if there is a toddler in your family! Wilful? Blimey! Now there’s an understatement!

Bringing a new baby into the realm of the toddler is always going to be a tricky thing and so, like most people with good intentions, I read up about it – I was a Brownie you know and find that I often like to ‘Be Prepared’! There are lots of handy hints in the pregnancy books about how and when to introduce your other children to the new addition; what to say and how to act in order to make your toddler feel at ease. Indeed, some books go into minute detail about how you should position yourself in the hospital bed and what you should do with your eyes (what?) when your toddler comes into the room.

So…as per the instructions in my pregnancy handbook, I promptly bought a present for my eldest, all beautifully wrapped by the newborn (he’s very advanced you know), and told my son that ‘the baby had bought him a present because he was excited to meet his new brother’. As per instructions, I positioned myself as far away from the baby as I could (well, I actually couldn’t move as I was still paralysed but hey ho), and focused all of my attention on son number one.

Great! Brilliant!! It was going well…

He was super excited about: his present and seeing mummy and being in a new room and touching buttons on the bed and trying to have a poo in the hospital toilet cos he hadn’t tried that one before, and touching the curtains that went round the bed and wiping his dirty hands on my bed sheets and playing with his doctor’s kit that the new baby had bought him and shouting so we all knew he was in the room and climbing on the sofa to look out of the window and touching the baby’s head…a lot! Phew!

So we all agreed that apart from the over exuberance it went quite well. There were no tears or tantrums and I was feeling a bit like a Supermum that had not only managed to get chopped open and survive that day (hurrah for me) but I’d also successfully navigated unchartered terrain and ended up with a happy normal well-adjusted toddler……

Hmmmm. Then we brought the baby home.

GodzillavKong1

King Kong seemed to be none too pleased when the very noisy and ever so slightly annoying Godzilla entered his domain!

During the course of my first day back at home I could clearly see the hairs on the back of King Kong’s neck bristle when he heard the noise that Godzilla could emit! This, of course, would never stop him from lording it over his minions, who up until now had always given him their undivided attention and so he cranked up his own ROOOAAR!! My husband and I were being warned in no uncertain terms that there was only one King of the jungle here and no reptile was going to usurp him! The ROOOOOOOAAAR increased.

This was then accompanied by some random tears and some quite inexplicable tantrums, rounded off with a few visits to ‘The Naughty Step’, where there was a flat refusal to say ‘Sorry’ for any Gorilla-like escapades that he had been involved in!

HANG ON!! I read the manual! Surely  because I’d followed the instructions this shouldn’t happen?? Where had the Golden child gone? He had morphed into a gigantic ape in front of my eyes!!

Meanwhile, let’s not forget Godzilla. Although small, he definitely had the lungs of a scaly sea creature and was not afraid to do battle for noise supremacy and overall Alpha Male status!!

Couple the din with a lack of sleep, major surgery, hormones and the dreaded breastfeeding (that particular wonder of nature is for another blog) and it all goes to blow that rose tinted perception of ‘my new lovely little family’ out of the water! I wonder if Hollywood is interested in taking them both for a few years and making a new ‘King Kong meets Godzilla’ flick, to more clearly represent the modern family?? Just a thought!

Too Posh to Push?

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New-born-baby

If you’ve noticed the absence of posts recently it’s not because I’ve been overdosing on the Christmas pudding (more like resembling one) but rather I have been mainly birthing. Yes…this Christmas period has seen a new addition to my little family and it has, yet again, thrown life into a spin to say the least!

Childbirth…something that most women expect to go through and ‘experience’ at some point in their lives. And although expected, I,  like most women was slightly, shall we say ‘taken by surprise’ when I ‘experienced’ it for the first time.

Why you may ask? Didn’t she go to ante-natal classes? Speak to her mum? Talk to a midwife? Read a book on the subject? Well yes dear reader, I did all of these things, however, it is one thing to talk or read about something and quite another to go through it.

For a start, all of the books you read speak about things in a matter of fact way, as if the whole process is a breeze. There are chapters on ‘how to manage your pain’ for example. What? Really? You can manage it? Brilliant…nooooo problemo then. I’ll just read this chapter and everything will be fine. In reality however, I can’t even manage the pain of a paper cut , so I don’t know how I ever thought I’d manage labour!!!

What’s missing from the books of course, is a detailed, intricate account of the pain. A real insight into it: the sensation; the depth; the overwhelming fear involved as the pain intensifies. And of course, when you find yourself in the midst of it, whilst telling yourself to be brave, you can’t really escape the feeling that this may be curtains for you!

Manage it…pah! Give me some drugs and that’ll manage it a hell of a lot better thanks very much!

So why am I talking of the pain? Well, surely that potential pain and the avoidance of it has a lot of women nowadays veering towards the option of a Caesarean Section? The operation of choice. The swift and easy way to avoid the drawn out, embarrassing and exhausting ‘labour’. The way that celebrities do it ! Well if it’s good enough for Victoria Beckham, surely it’s good enough for me?

If this is something you’ve been mulling over and its affecting your birth choice let me just set you straight. Believe me…you’d rather push!!

Why? Well for starters it isn’t the ‘easy option’ at all, quite the opposite in fact. Of course it has certain advantages, such as you know the exact date your baby is coming and you can plan around the date. And……..that’s about it for advantages. Honestly.

If you’re thinking of avoiding the pain of labour by having a C-Section, let me just tell you that there is NO AVOIDING THE PAIN!!! EVER! The pain is just located in a different area of your body. Get used to it – popping out a sprog hurts and you can’t really dodge it by opting for major abdominal surgery! What you really want to do is have an Epidural – Wow! Brilliant!! As soon as you have one of those everything seems better!! Epidural and push! Forget the C-Section – trust me!

So why do the stars seem to opt for the C-Section? I’ve no idea! Work schedules seems an obvious idea but then the recovery time from the operation is a minimum of six weeks! Six weeks without driving, walking, sitting upright unaided even initially going to the toilet without help (nice)!

What I do know is that through the choices of the ‘stars’, the current ‘too posh to push’ trend has allowed random people to make judgements about how your baby enters the world.

Annoying Man: Your baby came out of the sunroof didn’t it?

Even More Annoying Man: You were too lazy to have your baby properly weren’t you?

Exceptionally Annoying Man that I want to punch: Well you didn’t really give birth though did you?

Aaaargh!! Your hormones are raging, you’ve had no sleep since….who knows and people like to impart their point of view upon you. Well thanks but…keep it to yourself!

Even worse than this is if you ended up with an Emergency C-Section after labouring for hours!! This happened to me the first time and after a 43 hour labour I had to have a C-Section!. A 43 hour labour!!! Are you joking! I still can’t believe that happened. It’s worse than a Medieval torture session in The Tower of London (well maybe not but there’s nothing like a touch of the dramatic to make me feel better)! And yet people will still assume that you ‘took the easy option’.

It is currently week 3 of my recovery and it’s safe to say that although I can now go to the toilet by myself (phew!) I still have a way to go to resume ‘normal life’. That’s ok though, as I have a husband on Paternity leave to help me out…….Darling, is the kettle on?

What’s in a Name?

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how-to-care-for-roses-11What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;

Nice sentiment Mr. Shakespeare but is it true? Does a name really matter?

So..does your name affect your future? Do people really care if their child is going to be bullied in the playground or possibly have to apply for a job in the future?

As I’m currently pregnant, I find myself with a daunting task ahead of me: namely… naming a child. It has to be one of the most difficult jobs of all time. I am responsible for their identity after all! So what’s my motivation here? Should I be thinking about giving my child the best possible start in life or should I  be thinking about: the place that he was conceived; my favourite cocktail or movie star?

Me: Mohito! Come on it’s time to go!

Husband: You too DeNiro! Your Spag Bol is ready!

Hmmmm! Obviously if I was a celebrity or Rock star I would be expected to come up with a ridiculous name for my child. It is quite simply a prerequisite to label your newborn with a wholly outrageous moniker. Think about that crazy world of celebrity, where it seems ok to dish out names such as: Zowie Bowie; Pilot Inspektor Lee; Heavenly Hiraani Tiger Lily; Moonunit Zappa; Apple Martin; Jermagesty Jackson and Prince Michael II,or Blanket as he is more fondly known!

Surely however, ‘normal’ people don’t do this sort of thing? Surely the general public has more of a grip on reality and understands the singular embarrassment that could come from having a name, that when read out in assembly, causes your peers to openly guffaw, whilst your teachers titter behind their hands?

Well the answer to this is a resounding NO THEY WOULDN’T!!!

In the quest for ‘uniqueness’ it seems that the modern parent is quite prepared to make a laughing stock of their child. How do I know? Well, coming from a teaching background I have been privy to a number of particularly cringe-worthy names over the years. Some of them, quite frankly have been bordering on: insane; cruel or tantamount to child abuse as far as I’m concerned! Let me bamboozle you with one in particular that I can’t seem to forget..with a surname of Mortis, what would be your first thought on a forename for your beloved? Well, these parents decided to call their child: Rigor Scooby-Doo Mortis. And the sad thing is that I’m not even joking!

Then there’s the new-fangled craze of sticking a letter and an apostrophe in front of an everyday name to jazz it up a bit! There’s nothing like a: D’Shawn or a D’Paul or indeed a L’Rachel to get you pondering over the intellect of some people!

Then what about the wonder of naming your baby after the place he/ she was conceived?? Oh deary me!! Really? As well as Brooklyn, Denver, Colorado and Montana are we going to meet up with some Huddersfields, Blackpools and Glasgows over the  next few years? Why don’t we go the whole hog and narrow it even further to Park or Pub or even Toilet? I’m sure if we did that, then the name Bed would become increasingly common and boring wouldn’t it?

Of course not everyone is going to like the name you choose to give your child and..of course, personal preference is your prerogative. Just give a little thought to your child in the playground and whether you want them to have any friends after all! Just remember that they will grow up and have to meet prospective in-laws and employers!

So…will I be naming my child in a weird and wacky way? No siree…although being a Christmas baby I was toying with the idea of Santa….or Elf?? What do you think?