You plan and prepare meticulously for a baby. You think of names, you read all the baby books (well some of you do – i like to wing it cos I’m dangerous), you decorate the nursery, you buy stuff (oh so much stuff – how does a person so small take over your home with that much stuff?) car-seats, pushchairs, nappies, wipes, cute little vests, rompers, hats, booties, going home outfits, muslin’s (Oh, so, so many muslin’s), bibs… I could continue forever. You even manage to think of yourself briefly and purchase breast pads and giant panty-liners, even splurge and treat yourself to some of those gigantic knickers, you know the ones that should have a built in bra, cos lets face it, you’re having a baby and you need comfy knickers now – adios thongs and strings – there’s no room for you here in our trousers now, comfort trumps sexiness – probably until baby is married with their own children!
We think of all these things when having a baby, yet we don’t consider the ‘after the newness has settled’ phase. We prepare meticulously for baby, yet we don’t consider ourselves beyond those first few weeks, and especially not in any way other than our physical health. We realise we will bleed, produce milk, need to consider contraception and possibly have trouble pooing (its glamorous having kids eh?) and know we will discuss these things candidly with professionals and not care. We know we will be monitored, via a tick sheet produced twice in babies first year, for signs of Post natal depression (twice in a year by a health visitor you probably see 3 times!) We know that. We are (semi?) prepared for that.
But what about the rest of who we are as a person? What about our mental, emotional and social needs? Why do we not plan for this?
For me the answer is simple. I was not told about this need for myself. Everyone offers advice on what you’ll need, where you should get it, what you should and should not do; but no-one, and I mean no-one, told me about the need to socialise and the support network it would produce.
Having a baby is a wonderful beautiful thing. Its magical. Its also life-changing in a way you never ever thought possible. You learn to have patience, you find strength, you realise your capacity for unconditional love. But you have also never ever felt exhaustion like it in your life, you feel as though your body is stuffed with cotton wool and are walking around in a bubble. You feel overwhelmed; you’re responsible for this small person. You feel like you have no idea what you are doing; this is all really new to you, no amount of reading could prepare you for this. You feel emotional all the time – I have been known to burst into tears at the postbox for posting a letter without a stamp! You feel alone at 2,3,4 am when you’re up with the baby again and the whole world is snoring soundly; even hubby over there. His pillows right there. You could do it. You could hold it over his stupid sleeping face. Or fill it with coins and smash him with it!!! Ahh… plotting hubby’s death kept me occupied on several night feeds with my babies.
All of these things seem less scary when you have someone to share it with; a support village. And I don’t mean hubby when he gets in from work and you throw the baby at him (not literally – although I have been tempted on occassions) so you can eat or bath quickly and spew every adult thought you’ve had all day at him cos he’s the first and only grown up you’ve seen all day. Don’t get me wrong, dads are amazing, even though you plan to murder them in the small hours, they provide support and care and don’t get enough credit, a lot of them (some are pathetic but that’s another topic for another day). But dad’s alone can’t provide all the support network we need, its too much pressure on them and somethings they just don’t get.
This is one of the most important reasons you need a support network, some respite, some genuine moral support; others in the same boat, plodding along, learning the same as you, facing battles you have overcome or are yet to face, sharing experiences you relate to, sharing ideas and advice, providing a genuinely emphatic ears with regards to teething, sleepless nights and hubby’s ability to sleep through it all (sorry hubby, getting a grilling in this one!). A support network is so important once you are learning a new role.
But support networks can be very hard to come by and some short lived and for a purpose only. All of these things are ok. You may be lucky enough to have friends who are experiencing all this with you too and learning things together and supporting each other; but lets face it, this is rather rare. And even if you are experiencing things together, your friendship has changed because you have children, the whole dynamic is different now. You might have friends you can lean on, who aren’t experiencing the same as you but are good supports and remain that way. Again, this is really rare (in my experience at least), but as before the dynamics have changed and the friendship changes too. So where do you start?
First of all, understand that support networks come in a variety of forms; especially now we have access to internet and smart phones and social media. You don’t even have to physically meet people if you don’t feel up to it. Even breastfeeding support etc is available over the phone now via live-chats and telephone calls. And the internet never sleeps! This fact opened up a whole new world for me when I had my first child. It formed the foundations of my support ‘village’. So here’s my story…
I joined a Facebook group when I was trying to conceive. We were having difficulty and we had been trying for a while (5 years) and were starting to undergo fertility testing and it felt really personal. I didn’t feel able to tell my close friends about our ‘trouble’ (for want of a better word) because they weren’t in the same place and I didn’t feel they’d understand. And to tell family felt like adding a lot of pressure when we were already putting pressure on ourselves. It felt very lonely and isolating. But a friend of a friend added me to a Facebook group she was in and in these strangers I found friends and solace. I found 2 women who were experiencing the exact same thing and genuinely empathised. We became very good friends and started a group message. I could log in and tell them personal things, like feeling a failure as a woman for getting my period again, or that I was crying in the bathroom in a shopping centre and they got it. They were doing or had done the same. They became my rocks – complete strangers who lived in my phone! We all shared our news – good and bad and were very supportive of one another. We shared our pregnancy journeys together, swapping stories of symptoms and cravings and weird pregnancy dreams. We shared bump pictures. We were there for each other when we went into labour or after labour (some lasted minutes) and supported each other in the night with breastfeeding or just not being alone in the dark with a small person; there was always someone around to share with – whether it be 2am or 2pm. These women became a life line for me – support, advice, a listening ear and all of this without having to leave the house! This group chat is still going (4 years and 5 children, between us, later) and we talk honestly, every day; and though I’ve never met these two women in person, they are my best friends and know everything about me. They are my first network. The first residents in my support village!
The next resident in my village was … my mother. This may strike you as odd because shes my mum and we already had a mother daughter relationship. But, I never truly appreciated her and all she did and how hard she worked until my first baby came along. I was always independent and never asked for advice but as new mother; in a very unfamiliar role and not knowing what I was doing (I still don’t now, three years in. Do any of us really ‘know’?) I found myself leaning on my mother and seeking her advice more. She became one of my first port of calls if I had a question and the first one I’d ask to babysit, I trusted her so I lent on her more. We became much closer and I think I even apologised for all the stuff I did as a kid and told her ‘I get it now. I get it. All of it. I’m so sorry’.
Several weeks later after a rough few days and nights with a reflux baby and I was going stir crazy. On the advice of my villagers I got out of the house and attended a weekly weigh in session for baby. The health visitor there mentioned about a baby massage course that was being held and how it may help my reflux baby and benefit us both. After very little sleep I was desperate to try anything so I booked us on. The group was very small and very encouraging of talking to each other and sharing experiences. There I met some ladies just like me. We had babies of the same age, we had babies with similar reflux issues, we had very little sleep. We shared remedies and laughed at some of the lengths we had gone to to help our babies get some respite (including sharing a bath with a baby who then decides that the perfect time to empty their bowels, after days of not pooing, resulting in a contended sleeping baby and mummy needing another bath to clean up after the last one). We swapped numbers, met for play-dates, we became friends; more residents moved into my growing village.
Children growing also provide you with an opportunity to meet new villagers. I met a mumma at a slimming world group after my second daughter was born. We arranged to meet up to do some exercise together to earn our body magic awards. We brought our children along (hers was just 3 years old, mine where just 2 and 10 months old) and they got on so well, laughing and playing together whilst we all walked around the park making small talk. After we had left my daughter talked about her friend ‘M’ for weeks and kept asking when we were going to see her again. So I got in touch with them again and we arranged to go for a coffee together. Our meet ups became more regular and we shared so much of ourselves with each other. We became friends, very close friends and our children are now best friends. We see each other regularly and talk almost daily (either on the phone, on messenger or face to face) and although neither of us attends slimming world anymore (I think I’m heavier now than when I joined) we gained a fantastic friendship and permanent village members.
Some villagers move on and some are just temporary (like some of the massage mumma friends); you fall out of touch or find you no longer have things in common and you drift apart, and you know what?, that’s ok, people move. Appreciate the support you got and let it go. You’ll always meet new villagers. The point is, these villagers could be anyone, anywhere, anytime. You never know when a stranger may become your next-door neighbour.
The child-bearer chronicles 