WHY IM SO PASSIONATE ABOUT SUPPORTING MOTHERS

My story on my journey into matrescence

I always knew I wanted to be a mother – I was always fascinated by babies and ensured that my chosen career path pointed that way. After working as a nurse for a few years I became a midwife and worked in that field for two years (I left not long after finishing my grad program when I became so disillusioned by the system – a story for another time). I then worked in maternal and infant health research, where I worked with mothers and babies in a clinic setting and got to talk with to all kinds of mothers. I thought because of how much ‘experience’ I had, that it would come easily and naturally to me when I had my own.

I had my dream birth with my first boy, and it was a big crash that followed when I realised that for our little bub sleep didn’t ‘just happen’. I’ve previously shared how long it took me to confidently breastfeed him, and adding to that, naps were a struggle plus he started waking six, seven, eight times a night. I became a walking zombie. I had an expectation of myself to still be doing all of the things – to be the ‘good mother’. The washing, shopping, cooking and cleaning, appointments etc, all around constant breastfeeding or with a baby attached to me. I thought that I had to do it all, and because I was struggling, I was failing.

I became so exhausted that I backed into a car once, and did not hear my reverse sensors absolutely screaming at me (we were all fine, fortunately). I tried a ‘gentle sleep program’ which left me more tired than before. I was adamant that leaving him to cry was not an option, even though it felt like everyone around me was telling me that this was the solution. Even my husband, purely out of concern for me was pushing me to do this, so I stopped asking for help and tried to hide how much I was struggling because I knew that this was not the right choice for my baby. I felt like those around me were blaming me for how tired I was because I wouldn’t simply sleep train him. I was became highly anxious and hypervigilant that I struggled to sleep at all in between wakeups.

I went to my GP telling him that I couldn’t sleep, even when my baby was fast asleep. He gave me a sheet of temazepam and told me to leave him to cry. I went to Ngala thinking that there was something that I was missing in helping him to find more sleep. They left him to cry in a cold unfamiliar room and told me to me watch him cry in distress for me on the camera. “Protesting” they called it, abuse, I call it. He did not know that he was safe and that the adults around him were watching from afar – as far as he knew his only source of safety – of food, shelter and warmth was not coming for him. Eventually I went in and patted him to sleep, and the second time they tried it I asked if there was a better way. I was told that this was the only way to get them to sleep ‘properly’ so I picked him up and told them I was leaving – they told me that there was nothing else that they could do for me and I was obviously not ready to make the change.

I started to have what I call the ‘hospital fantasy’ – where you start hoping that something happens to you that warrants a stay in hospital so you can get some rest. That I might drive into a tree (sustaining only a minor injury – nothing more than that) or that I might develop a kidney stone even – something that might warrant a few nights in hospital where someone else would take care of me and I could just sleep. (I have since had a kidney stone, 0/10 – would not recommend).

My mum’s spidey senses must have gone off one morning after a particularly rough night when my baby was about 7 months old. She had stopped past before work to drop off a container of soup, and I completely broke down. I sobbed and sobbed to her about how little sleep I was getting and how I was beyond tired, how I couldn’t get a break and how I was failing as a mother and a wife and I didn’t even know who I was anymore. She called in sick to work that day and came up with a plan. She would come over about 7am and look after my baby for a couple of hours in the morning while I went back to bed, and she would bring him in to me for his first nap, and we would nap together. My mum did this for about 6 weeks while I caught up on some much-needed sleep and rest.

During this time, I started prioritising myself and my health. I would lie down with him for his nap periods and we would co-sleep at night so I could feed him back to sleep as soon as he woke. I went and saw a naturopath who diagnosed me with adrenal fatigue and postnatal depletion and put me on all kinds of supplements. I saw a kinesiologist who helped to balance my somethings (honestly, I don’t understand it but it seriously worked) and I started to get some quality sleep again. My baby still woke up multiple times a night, but because I was getting better quality sleep in between and was getting the right nutrients to support my body, I could function again and I started to feel more like myself again.

I had to learn to surrender to what my baby was asking of me – to be with him. That’s all he needed, and because I was fighting it for so long, listening to all the “shoulds” of motherhood instead of what he was trying to tell me, I made it so much harder for myself and I lost myself in the process. Building myself back up and healing took time. Learning to prioritise rest over housework was a learning curve and I had to let go of the ‘perfect mother’ ideal (the perfect mother doesn’t exist!!).

Having my second baby had a new learning curve with a toddler thrown into the mix – but I had learnt to give myself grace and treat myself with kindness. My expectations of what I could achieve in the day had dramatically changed and my standards of housekeeping had drastically dropped. I learnt to stop saying yes when I meant no and prioritise the needs of myself and my family, and I got through that season of my second boy’s infancy mostly without incident. I learnt to communicate my needs better to my husband and let him support me in the way that I needed.

When I started to come out of the fog of my second boys baby years, I started to get really angry. Why is there an expectation that the baby’s needs are overlooked in order for the mum to get a break? Why were healthcare professionals overlooking and ignoring clear signs of postnatal anxiety, and perpetuating the cycle by continually telling me to ignore my baby’s signals and my own natural instincts in order to feel better? When I started learning about matrescence and the changes we go through, I realised on a deeper level how grossly unsupported we are through this period – both physically and emotionally. If someone had been there to tell me that by baby’s sleep is normal, to tell me that I wasn’t failing and helped me to adjust my lifestyle and expectations, it didn’t have to be such an extreme situation. I would have better been able to advocate for myself and my baby to those around me instead of hiding my struggle, and I certainly wouldn’t have felt like driving into a tree was a good way to get a break!! This is why I do what I do, and why I believe matrescence is so important.