The diagnosis

I’m writing this on the last night of mine and my hubbies two night getaway. 

I’m sitting in front of the fireplace in the dark thinking about how much I’ve enjoyed these two days of bliss. 

I feel so guilty saying this but I have enjoyed every childless minute. I know hubby misses the kids and of course I do too but I really needed this time to calmly sort through everything in my head and put everything back into perspective. When im in the thick of parenting, everything is so overwhelming to me. I need just every now and then to remove myself from our everyday life to take a back seat and access everything. 

So during the week we were given the diagnosis we’d been searching for over the past few months for our youngest who instead of becoming easier after starting school became much more difficult to the point I had thrown my hands up saying I’ve lost control of the situation which was after he’d broken our third TV in two years and it also was around the same time he had gone to the kitchen when he was angry at me and came back with a knife saying he was going to stab me. (Calm down Karen’s, knives and sharp objects were put out of reach right after that so you can stop your high horse typing and delete)  

We had finally got to the place where I knew I had to make some phone calls to get some help. To me I thought after coming to this realization that I could sit back and take a big deep breath and exhale because in Mr’s Doubtfires voice ‘Help is on the way dear’ was coming my way.  But of course, life is never that simple. It was a good week of phone calls to children’s psychologists and psychiatrists leading to dead ends or being referred to another professional. I hit road block after road block of ‘Sorry we are fully booked for the year’ (what? How? It was like February? Did people know Corona was coming and booked in advance incase their kids needed to vent about not being able to play on the playground for two months?) I also got that concerned voices telling me they actually can’t help me (if I’m being honest it was usually after I’d told the story of the knife welding 6-year-old). We finally got a date for a Childrens psychiatrist for 4 weeks away only to get there and be told I wasn’t expected to bring my kid with me, (You know, the kid actually needing the help) Yeah, they didn’t think to mention that to me in the hour-long chat on the phone when booking in. They also chose to humour me so more by disregarding what I’d said about my son having an intellectual disability and severe language delay resulting in him not being able to hold proper conversations or understand a lot of things and went on to talk to him like he was a 15-year-old that was getting angry at his mum for asking him to clean his room. They were trying to get out of him why he’s angry and reason with him. No surprise we didn’t go back.   

When we finally found the right fit, we took our travelling circus on the road (AKA our car with our melt down, seat belt undoing, object throwing 6 year old) and  travelled a two-hour round trip once a week every Thursday night because we were that desperate and that dedicated to fixing our family as it was falling apart around us. We also got into a new pediatrician after sorting through some shockers (believe when I say shockers) which after a good month we have finally been given some answers on why we have been failing with everything we’ve tried. Autism level 3 and ADHD. The ASD came as no surprise but the ADHD shocked us. It explains so much though.  

So as you could imagine it’s been a lot to process so our time away came at a great time. I now have a clearer head and feel a little bit more capable than I did to tackle this next chapter. 

For any family going through a similar situation hang in there. If you feel you’re not getting anywhere keep pushing. If your specialist or therapist doesn’t feel like the right fit, they’re not. Trust your gut and try not to leave things as long as we did before realising somethings not right. I struggled at home for a good 4 years with my kid thinking I was just a weak parent that couldn’t control her son and to be honest my already bad mental health took a dive feeling like an in adequate mum when all along there was underlying issues making parenting impossible for us. 

Keep fighting but don’t forget to stop and refuel. 

BB  

xx 

One tough week

It’s hard, it’s exhausting and it’s emotional.

They’re the first three things that come to my mind when thinking of raising my two boys with special needs.

This week may have been one of the most challenging weeks my husband and I have had as parents. The last few months our youngest sons behaviour has started to become worse then it was. And I’ll be honest it was already an absolute circus of words that I can use here.

We have tried everything to get it under control including seeing a children’s Pyschologist every week for the past couple of months.  It’s an hour there and an hour back with a melt down, object throwing lashing out child but we are honestly desperate right now.

For some reason this week was what should I say? A shit show. I’m talking so bad that we made the heart wrenching decision to send our oldest son to his grandparents for half the week because we are so worried he is being emotionally traumatised by the things going on at home.

For a couple of years I honestly thought it was me. It was my parenting that was causing his behaviour as it only happened when he was with me. I blamed it on my depression and anxiety and thought that it was playing apart of me being a terrible mum and causing my son to be acting out. This sounds horrible it really does, but I think my son being diagnosed with Autism is actually in a way a relief for me. For me it means it wasn’t me, it wasn’t my fault. I always felt some shame that maybe I was too lazy with discipline or too much of a push over or something else that every other mother things if themselves.  Each day (especially during iso) was a non stop cyclone of screaming, smashing and crying that it was exhausting. I just wanted to crawl into a ball and cry my eyes out. Actually no, I wanted to run away and maybe stay at some beautiful resort with massages and fancy desserts for at least a week. I didn’t though. I stuck it out for 9 weeks and tried to home school amongst it all and came out of it stronger. I’ve never wanted to quit so much as I have this week. If you’re relationship isn’t working you break up, if you’re job isn’t making you happy you quit right? Yeah that’s not an option when you’re a parent. You just have to do what you can to get through. 

Everyone has been dealt a different hand in life. Surround yourself with the best quality people. No fake friends, no friends who are only there for the good times. Friends and family that will pick you up when you crumble and a partner that will wipe your tears and tag in when your legs wont run anymore. I’ve got them all. Not a huge crowd, but a great little unit always in my corner.

I don’t think anyone’s life is perfect or drama free. If it looks that way then they must be exhausted trying to make it look that way.

Everyone’s doing their best so be kind. Give a compliment to a stranger, drop a dollar in the buskers guitar case because something so little to you can be huge to them.

There’s a great saying by Regina Brett : “If we threw our in a pile and saw everyone else’s, we’d grab ours back”

BB

xxx

Depressed in iso

I’m going to be honest.

I’ve started to write this blog at least four times over the past month. I would think of a few things and write it in my notes in my phone. I would change what I was writing about so many times and when it came down to the crunch, I couldn’t bring myself to open my laptop and start. I like many others have not been doing well these past few weeks. I know I’m not the only one. Every single one of our lives have been affected in one way or another because of Covid-19 and isolation.

It’s strange because having depression I find myself isolating constantly and cancelling plans, so I don’t have to face the world. I much prefer a night in than a night out and I sometimes can’t even get out of the car at the shops because I’m feeling too anxious. Since being told we had that to isolate I have struggled since day 1. It makes no sense; it should be my jam, right? I feel like I’ve been practicing this for almost a decade now.

When you already feel trapped in life and in your mind and then physically, you’re confined to your home. Every feeling and every emotion are amplified inside these four walls. Every emotion and thought you’ve been trying to escape for years sit with you on the couch everyday. It blurts out your mouth in frustration at your kids. Every feeling of self doubt and self hatred rears it’s ugly head more often than usual each day when you have no escape and no distractions. 

I know this will sound dark and twisty but it’s everyday life or torture depending how you look at it or who’s eyes you look at it through. 

Feeling too guilty to speak up because there are so many others struggling worse than you, people are dying. The fears and insecurities I have are a luxury to some others. My life is a privilege: my house, my four walls, My food that I eat so I don’t have to feel any emotions with, My water that on my already spoilt taste buds tastes bland and lacks sugar and artificial sweeteners. My two children that my reproductive system easily let me produce. My luxury life is there for the viewing and there to be envied. 

Depression does not discriminate. It doesn’t care what car you drive or what your ATAR score was. 

A month ago when things would get too much and I felt like screaming I’d wait until everyone was asleep and go for a drive to try and clear my head by blasting feeling sorry for myself music and crying like in a scene out of a cheesy movie.  Why is it when you’re feeling sad we have to listen to sad music? It’s like we want to be stuck in our funk. We should be listening to upbeat tunes about poppin bottles and driving down to the beach of a warm summer night to get us feeling happy and motivated instead of crying our eyes out to old Avril Lavigne songs while stuffing our face with a cheeseburgers. (that was just an example of something someone might do, definitely not me, just an example)

However you are coping or not coping with this huge change in our lives right now is ok. There’s no right or wrong way to be dealing with something that none of us have had to deal with before.  There is no competition of who has it worse. There is no reward at the end. No one gets a toilet paper hamper at the finish line.

Stay safe and I hope we all come out of this stronger than ever.

BB xx

The black dog, The grey cloud…Depression

So lets talk depression(come on you all knew it was coming its in the name of my blog so it was bound to come up)

It’s not fun I’ll tell you that but add into the mix kids..kids who wake at the crack of dawn(just joking earlier than dawn) and you’ve got yourself a pretty bad situation.

I’m not going to sugar coat it because I don’t think anything good comes from that.

The struggle is real just getting out of bed in the morning when you are depressed let alone having to be the primary carer for kids. It feels almost impossible to look after yourself when you’re going through dark times let alone look after and try and keep alive tiny humans.

Generally speaking having depression means you have less patience and by that I don’t mean getting frustrated waiting for little Jimmy to put on his shoes while you’re running late for that specialist appointment you’ve waited months on the waiting list for.

I mean you go from 0 to 100 in a matter of seconds..I mean he was singing the Wiggles song in the car so loud you swear the windows were shaking but you clinched your jaw and smiled, he took so long choosing what flavor chuppa chup he wanted that now the line to the check out is longer than the wall of china.

No no..I’m talking about the adorable moment he had trying to be all independent pouring his milk into his cereal bowl that most parents would celebrate, but the fact that he spilt most of it on the bench was the only thing you noticed and sent you into a rage that you’d later feel terrible for.

 The old saying of’ the last straw that broke the camels back’ comes in to play here when you keep on smiling through all the frustrating things that have been happening around you but as soon as the most minor thing happens you fly off the handle faster then a seagull swoops a chip at the beach.

The worst part about it is the guilt you feel afterwards when you’ve calmed down and replay in your mind the look on your kids face when you completely overreacted.

My youngest may not understand all too much but I am honest with my oldest and tell him I shouldn’t have become so angry and Im sorry if I scared him.

The other part I find almost the hardest is the anxiety. Having depression doesn’t mean youll have anxiety but most of the time they go hand in hand.

For me it’s a bit like the old ‘what came first the chicken or the egg?’ What did I have first anxiety or depression? It’s a mystery but I’m putting all my money on anxiety.

I remember when I finally got my son out of hospital after three months (remember he was sick, you read about it in my first blog? Stay with me now) I was always thinking people were staring at me thinking he isn’t strapped into his pram properly or he’s not appropriately dressed for the weather outside or just looking at me thinking wow she’s a young mum.

When he became older and was a toddler he would play up at the shops(like any toddler does) to me it felt like this. Imagine being so worried about giving a speech to your whole class and you finally build up the courage and get to the front of the class just to realize you forgot to put clothes on that day. Yeah that’s how I felt when I was already freaking out about people looking at me and then I had this kid screaming and having a tantrum on the ground drawing more attention to me than if Kim Kardashian(or someone more noteworthy like Ellen DeGeneres)

I was always so sure my boys were just being kids and had no control over their emotions or that my anxiety made their behavior worse when we were out(kind of like when an animal can sense your fear) my boys could sense my anxiety(the beads of sweat on my forehead were a dead giveaway) and they’d decide to make my day hell. I’ve only started to realise now that my boys having special needs and more to the point sensory processing difficulties, would have made taking them to the shops pretty overwhelming for them with all the lights, noises and people(not to mention the many aisles of toys that they didn’t understand they couldn’t take home) so now that I think about it you’ve got me freaking out over a tiny teddy dropped on the ground because im having anxiety and sweating more than if I was competing in a triathlon and then you’ve got my kid who is overwhelmed by all the stimuli including the newest Wiggles guitar they’ve just spotted and of course want but I know they’ll break it before we even reach the car park. I’m not great at Maths so I may be wrong but I’m pretty sure that equals one hell of a horrible experience.

Before I had kids I would see parents out and about with their kid wearing one of those leash back pack things and I remember it was always so rare to see (like one of those pink dolphins in the Amazon) but you’d see it and you’d stop In your tracks admiring its beauty, no not really but thinking who in their right mind would do that to their kid. What they can’t control their kid and it was the only way to get things done?

The day I changed my judgmental uneducated opinion was the day my son got away from me and ran across the car park. Right then and there I knew they weren’t lazy or cruel. They were parents that loved their kid and didn’t want them to get hit by a car or lost in a shopping Centre.

I honestly wish I could’ve sucked up my pride and given zero f*%’s about what people thought of me and my parenting. Instead of avoiding the shops or wrestling  with what can only be described as a toddler shaped crocodile into a pram I would’ve let my kid have the freedom to walk with me while having the safety of knowing they weren’t in any danger.

But it’s exactly what they say when they tell you parenting is a learning curve. We literally have no idea what we are doing when or even how we are doing it. The early days are basically a blurry trial and error phase where you must keep a tiny human alive while functioning on the bare minimum of sleep and wearing baby vomit stained clothes (don’t worry the vomit stains then turn into vegemite stains after about a year which goes really nicely with a randomly placed fruit loop in your dirty hair)

I think it should be a legal requirement to have at least three friends in your circle that have had babies before you to give you the raw, honest unsugar coated version of how to get through.

Depression or not, parenthood is the hardest thing you’ll ever do.

Don’t ever be ashamed or embarrassed to reach out for help when you need it.

Fit your oxygen mask first before helping others.

Your kids don’t care that the house is a mess or that you haven’t folded the washing since the start of the year (what? They’re clean) They just care that you’re there. There to cuddle them when they scrap their knee and there to celebrate their wins big or small.

We’re all doing amazing, don’t ever forget that.

BB

xx

Milestones

So lets talk milestones. Love them or hate them, they’re always there and there’s no escaping them. The maternal health nurse constantly talks about them and I mean constantly like to the point they should really be called maternal milestone nurses. The constant questions of how many words can they say? Are they able to use a sippy cup yet? Crawling? Walking? Seriously it never ends.

Which usually it would be fine. Why wouldn’t you love to be able to say yeah little Jimmy is saying 5 word sentences, not only walking but he actually prefers to skip while tapping his head with one hand and rubbing his tummy with the other oh and he prefers to just drink straight from the 3 litre bottle of milk instead of using a sippy cup.

But what about if your kid wasn’t like little Jimmy? What if your kid has a developmental delay or was a premie or just damn right lazy (let’s face it why would you want to be using all that energy crawling around when some pretty lady with your lunch attached to her chest will carry you around?)

The worst thing you can do as a parent is compare your kid to others kids but unfortunately that’s all medical professionals do and I get it, its their job.

Parents of kids who aren’t reaching those milestones have the feeling of worry and that sinking feeling you get when they pull out that graph to show you where your kid should be for their age.

My oldest son has a condition called Microcephaly where his brain is extremely small and grows tiny amounts a year. I would always dread that paper measuring tape they would pull out every time at the Pediatrician and health nurse because most of the time it hadn’t grown at all in 6 months and even if it had it was the smallest amount. They would then go ahead and show us on the graph where he was. That dreaded graph that shows the average kids head size. His head was off the chart but not in the good way, right at the bottom of the page literally off the chart was our sons’ straight line with the tiniest incline (you know that tiny incline you set the treadmill on at the gym because good old Karen next to you has her treadmill set like she’s training to tackle Mount Everest next week and you don’t want to look weak)

Mums do it too though, they don’t mean to but at most playgroups or Wiggles book swap meets(I may have made that last one up) you’ll most likely hear the old ‘Is he walking yet?’ ‘Mine was an early walker at 9 months’

I get it though. As a parent everything your kid does since being evicted from your womb makes you beam with pride. I’m the first to admit, when they do that first crap on the toilet… I wanted to set off confetti cannons and belt out the lyrics to Katy Perry’s Firework but I didn’t. Well maybe I sung just the chorus of Firework, but I didn’t do the cannon thing (apparently you need a permit).

What I’m trying to say is when your kid isn’t reaching those milestones around the times your told they should, you feel pretty crap.

As a young mum at 21 I’m not going to lie, it definitely got to me watching everyone else’s kids thrive. They were all walking and talking long before my son did. When he did walk it was way more special though. The doctors told us he may not ever walk from the brain damage so when he did walk, we didn’t care if it was 16 months, 25 months or 3 years, he walked.

We may have waited a few more years than most parents to hear our kid say the alphabet or say his what he wanted to eat but I kid you not when the day finally came that he could say ‘Mummy you look beautiful in that dress’ and’ Daddy I want to be just like you when I grow up’ none of the waiting mattered. I mean sure there was that time he told me I looked like a handsome man wearing that belt but hey take what you can get with kids ok.

My youngest never crawled and didn’t walk until he was 2 (doesn’t sound that bad until I tell you I had three bulging discs in my back from carrying 10 kilos around on my hip all day)

Most kids can write their name by the time they start prep. Mine couldn’t but we were ok with that because we knew they eventually would. Last week was week three of prep for my boy and for the first time he wrote a letter, the letter ‘S.’ And oh my god…. that feeling when I saw it..that’s a feeling I want to bottle up and sell because that’s a feeling everyone needs to experience.

If you take anything away from reading this blog let it be this.

No one asks you when you go for a job interview questions like what age did you walk? or how many words could you say at age 2.

No one cares how you start the race, its how you finish that matters.

xx BB

Where it all begun

Hello Hello,

Sit down, put your feet up and pause what you’re watching on Netflix just for five.

Ill be straight up with you…I have no idea what I’m doing….in life….in motherhood….with this blog or quite frankly for dinner??! So come along for the ride while I fake it until I make it.

I’m Bec and here’s my journey over the past 10 years

When I was 20 and thought about becoming a mum, I thought how amazing I was going to be at it. I had so much love to give and couldn’t wait to have kids to give them a fun and exciting life.

I was 21 when I had my first son and it wasn’t all butterflies and rainbows like you see in the movies. It went horribly wrong. It’s something that will stick with me forever even though my boy came out of it reasonably well considering.

I guess that’s when I changed. All I know is that I was different.

I felt everything in my life much deeper from that day on.

We were young and we had to grow up the day he was born because it wasn’t about us anymore. 

Skip ahead 9 years and we have a healthy boy who has an intellectual disability and Microcephaly but completely perfect in our eyes.

We also have a 6-year-old boy who has had a few issues at the beginning (nothing like our first) and has an intellectual disability also.

After our first son I suffered from post natal depression which I was told after everything that happened was more than understandable. 

I’ve always thought of myself as a fairly happy person. I can’t even remember being down and sad as a child or teenager so this was something completely shattering for me but it was under control and it was mainly anxiety that was the one thing I remember. Heart palpitations and the sweats when I’d leave the house but it was manageable.

2 years later I was still suffering with depression so I went back to my GP.

I started to see a counsellor which was a great outlet for me. 

We talked about the child birth and also my anxiety when I go out. It turns out I care too much what people think of me haha I wish there was an off switch to that because on the surface I couldn’t careless but buried under something it turns out I do. Who would’ve thought? 

I had about 10 sessions and was magically healed!! No not really but she was happy with my progress so she was happy for me to finish.

A few years passed and they were pretty hard. My son was a terrible two year old and a terrible threenanger and really made life a little bit more tough for me.

He was constantly throwing tantrums and banging his head on the ground. He would bite and hit me but it was completely normal for him apparently but a nightmare none the less. We tried time out, the naughty spot ect and nothing ever really worked. The main problem was that he couldn’t express to us what he wanted or needed because he was so delayed with his speech so he’s constant outbursts were mainly from frustration.

There were so many days where I’d call my husband Josh crying telling him I couldn’t handle him and that I felt I’d lost control. 

I felt like such a failure every time. 

Then along came our youngest boy.

Our now 6 year old.

Yeah…turns out my oldest is actually a saint in comparison. He did/does all of the above and then some. Long story short we’ve had two broken tv’s in two years just to give you a rough idea.

Because of my depression I find my emotions sit pretty close to the surface. I have a short fuse. I cry literally over spilt milk some days. The worst part well my least favourite part is I have no patience. I always thought when you become a parent you develop the patience of a saint. I don’t know if it’s because I have two very testing boys but boy they can push my buttons and quickly. I feel so horrible when I snap at them and to be honest it could also be the fact that hubby and I have been sleep deprived since Mason was 4 months old and started waking 85,000 times a night. Ok yes a little exaggerated I know but it’s a lot, that’s a story for another time.

So why am I starting this blog?

I want to bring awareness to parents who are battling mental illness behind closed doors and trying to keep it all together for the sake of their kids.

I want to help parents with kids that have special needs feel less alone.

I hope I can help just one person going through a rough time by sharing my stories and my journey.

Enjoy

BB xx