Something else out there

I can’t remember the correct timeframe, or how old she was. Everything is such a blur when you’re a new Mum.

But I had just come back home from one of baby girl’s Maternal Child Health Nurse check-ups. They are so frequent at the beginning – they visit you at home a couple of times, then there are weekly visits, they go to 2 weeks and 4 weeks and 8 weeks… maybe it was even MORE frequent. I can’t remember.

I think some things you choose not to.

I had been trying to breastfeed her for so long. She was just so little, and still learning. She was soooo little. Born at just under 2.5 kilos, she truly was a doll.

I had been told at the previous visit, based on her good weight gain with the formula milk I had been giving her, that I could try to wean her onto the breast, and rely less on the formula.

Which is what I did. It was really hard, and that is a whole other story, but I did it.

So when I came for my next MCHN check-up, the nurse was surprised to find… she had actually dropped in weight.

A couple of hundred grams is a lot when your baby is only weeks old. The nurse was actually quite nice, not judgmental, and didn’t question my tactics… yet I saw the concern on her face.

She suggested perhaps my breast milk wasn’t strong enough. Try some cheese, a handful of almonds before you breastfeed, she said.

She looked at the previous record and this current one, repeatedly, comparing the two and wondering if there had been a weighing error the last time.

She tapped her finger against her chin, thinking of what to do, wondering what was going on, and scheduled me to come in and see her again sooner than was necessary.

Through my haze of confusion and intense worry, I could see the answer, and yet it couldn’t come forth for me to speak up. It was too far away to catch, distant amidst all my sleep deprivation, anxiety, intense mood swings, and adjustment to life that I had not been prepared for at all.

I had only been somewhat prepared for the labour. That was it. None of the BEYOND. None of the important stuff.

I thought I had turned a corner in my breastfeeding, and that finally, I had succeeded at something. To have all of that questioned, to hear that my little baby girl was losing weight, NOT gaining weight as needed, especially as she was so petite, was the tipping point.

I don’t know how I drove. A friend was desperate for a group catch-up. I hastily wrote “it’s not a good time at the moment.” And I went home and bawled my eyes out.

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Photo by Jordan Whitt on Unsplash

Baby girl was asleep. I remember sitting on the table near the kitchen, feeling so alone. Those first few days, weeks, months, ARE LONG. You are waiting for your husband to come home, to help you, relieve you, hug you, love you, and tell you it’s going to be ok.

They go to work every day. Oh how lucky they are to leave those walls. To walk out the door and go back to some sense of normalcy, to speak in proper conversations with actual adults, when all the while you are dying at home and wondering when it will all end.

I was sitting there, and actually begging. I was begging God to send me someone to save me. I sat there crying, feeling so alone, and yet unable to reach out and call anyone.

It’s awful that in our worst moments, we are unable to reach out. To ask for help. To seek advice, a shoulder to cry on, and a listening ear when it is most dire to our wellbeing.

I was an absolute mess for what felt like the longest time… but maybe, it was really about an hour. Watching the clock, crunching on almonds, hoping someone would call, or Hubbie would come home early.

Soon, the phone rang.

Help had been sent. It was my sister.

She listened to my tears. We worked out what I had tried to grasp earlier, but couldn’t amidst the shock of the news. The formula was heavier than the breastmilk. She naturally dropped in weight as I went to exclusively breastfeed her, and within time, it would go up again.

She would regain it all.

And she DID. Being at one of the lowest percentiles at birth, can you believe this petite angel of mine is now in about the 90-95th percentile in height and weight?

People constantly tell me how tall she is for a 4 year old.

I never would have imagined.

But this is not the moral of the story. It’s got nothing to do with the breastmilk, early Motherhood or even how much you should listen to nurses…

It’s all about the sign. The help. The call out.

I had called out, and I had received help.

I’ve always believed in something greater out there… and this to me was further proof.

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Photo by Maranatha Pizarras on Unsplash

I don’t know what has gotten into me lately. Something is not right. I can’t get excited. I don’t know what it is, or why or how this has come, because I didn’t think, other than the normal crap that life sometimes throws at us, that I had anything that was weighing me down.

All of a sudden, I was DOWN. Not in the gravitational pull sense.

I mean FLAT. Uninspired. Losing interest. NO focus.

I don’t like to use this term casually, but even… DEPRESSED.

I started to worry. Was this a hormonal cycle thing? Was I just having a bad day?

I woke up after my first bad day, my DOWN day, and… was still DOWN.

Day 2…

Day 3…

Day 4…

No interest. Lacking motivation. Feeling hopeless, for no apparent reason at all.

When I realised I wasn’t looking forward to anything, I started to worry.

Because this wasn’t like me. I always had something to look forward to. Even when I was sick I’d be looking forward to getting better. I would even look forward to work, believe it or not. I had many things to look forward to, and even amidst shit people and events and spanners thrown into the mix, I would find a way to look past all that and look forward to something bigger and brighter in the future.

I think of things now, and my mind goes blank.

I actually have no reason to feel this way… that concerns me too. Nothing notable or significant has happened to make me feel this way, and yet there is this niggly, annoying feeling at the back of my mind, there is something weighing me down, making me feel moody and lowly and telling me that all is not right.

It is a scary place to be.

I didn’t ask for ‘help’ while I was at work yesterday. But I was thinking a lot about the state I was in, and getting upset and emotional within myself. Because each time I spoke to someone, and they asked me how I was, I felt like I was trying to convince myself, more than I was trying to respond to them. 

“Yeah,” I replied nodding, thinking. “Good.”

No, I was not GOOD.

I went through these emotions, this thinking, ALL DAY, trying to get myself out of the funk, to no avail.

And then without any kind of request, other than me asking myself “WHY?” a series of small interactions occurred.

Because within a 5 minute period, as I packed up my belongings for the day, I came across three women. Not necessarily women I see or talk to often at work either. And all three of them expressed great interest in me, in how my life was going, and they had such big smiles as we spoke, that it was hard to not get affected.

Now don’t get me wrong, a simple chat wasn’t enough to take me out my funk. I was still a bit helpless. But I had gained a bit of something that I talk about often here.

HOPE.

I don’t know why, but that series of small chats made me feel like there was something, or someone, trying to get through to me and lift me up. Those three women were thrown at me, so unusually, and with such force, that it was difficult to deny that there was something other than divinity at work here.

Someone or something, had responded to my unanswered question.

Life can be hard. No, Life IS hard. We are fortunate when we call out and receive a response to our cry for help.

Other times we may not ask, but we get assistance in unspoken form.

And then there are times, when we need to seek it out ourselves.

There is no shame in asking for help, or telling people we feel like shit. It actually takes all the courage in the world.

And whether you believe in a higher power, a greater good, or NOT, that is also ok… as long as you seek what you need when your soul is crying out for it, because every now and then, we all need a lending hand.

And maybe, just maybe, you have somehow been led to this post, and I am lending my words of advice, my experiences, and my Hopes for something greater, to YOU.

If you or someone you care for needs help, you can call Lifeline on 13 11 14, or click here.

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Photo by Paola Chaaya on Unsplash

 

 

 

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Move straight to the centre

Radius Restaurant
RACV Resort, 70 Cape Paterson-Inverloch Road Inverloch

(Visited June ’16)

Our trip to Inverloch in June 2016 was in celebration of many things. And it was our first family holiday together as one, so it made sense that there were people and events to celebrate.

When I say family, I mean ‘family,’ in the all-encompassing, all-inclusive sense.

Road tripping it over was myself, Hubbie and baby girl… my MIL… my parents… my sister, bro-in-law, and my two nephews.

It was a BIG one.

Although it was a very short trip, it was jam-packed and still a lot of fun.

On the night we arrived, we dressed ourselves up and headed on over into the dining quarters of Radius, the restaurant at the RACV resort that we were staying at.

If you can stay at the RACV resort, do it. You have so much accessible to you, the rooms are new and modern and luxurious, and then you have a view like this from your window.

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Highly, strongly recommended. So, back to the restaurant. There was a fairly big group of us, so it was a given that one of us had booked ahead to guarantee a table. We arrived by 7pm, and it took a while to settle with so many.

After all that though, we started getting into the holiday spirit with some drinks

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and then it was the long and arduous task of deciding what to order.

Not that there weren’t any good meals. It was just that our parents wanted ‘easy,’ ‘simple,’ ‘recognisable’ options, and translating what everything was, and what they would eventually get (understanding some menus requires study in itself) took a bit of effort.

Our waitress was lovely from the outset. She was kind and extremely accommodating, not at all like the nose-in-air customers who were dining nearby, looking over questioningly every time baby girl or my nephew made a sound. They did it with such rudeness, when they weren’t even being that noisy, that I almost asked THEM to leave. The inconsiderate nature of some people just astounds me.

But the waitress worked hard to make us happy, even telling sis that we could chill out on the empty table behind us, if it helped to make my nephew happier.

She had forgotten our bread rolls early on, but that was easily forgotten with her kind gestures, making her the ideal waitress that night.

Baby girl spent some time drawing in those small kid’s packs that come with some paper, 4 crayons and a sheet of stickers. That kept her busy, keeping us relieved.

When our food came, we were all raring to go.

I got the Bass Coast fettuccine, roasted cauliflower, charred corn, with gruyere cheese sauce and toasted hazelnuts

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Hubbie got the Porterhouse with red wine jus, with duck fat roasted baby potatoes and a resort salad, and an additional side of Steamed vegetables, local olive oil (not pictured)

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And finally baby girl had Chicken Nuggets, chips and salad

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Baby girl’s meal was good and even we ended up pecking away as the minutes ticked on! All our meals were pretty enjoyable, I enjoyed my fettucine, the hazelnuts gave it a definite crunch, and it was a very creamy and satisfying dish, which I didn’t eat all of, only so I could make some room from the desserts I was eyeing off in the display cabinet.

Hubbie was happy with the preparation of his meat, it was done as he liked. He enjoyed the meal, and though it was substantial, he felt it was missing something, and needed a bit more beside the meat, potato and salad component. Nonetheless, he was still happy.

There were main meals, entrees, and sharing plates everywhere. By the time we were done with that, the waitress suggested we could go into the adjoining bar area, where we could lounge out on the couches there and have our coffee and cake delivered to us!

So, why not?

The 10 of us meandered across and fixed ourselves over about 3 couches, before indulging in some yummy coffee and desserts

I got a cap and a mango ‘something.’ I don’t remember the name, but I know there was a pistachio cake layer, pistachios, jelly, mango of course, and a custard. I didn’t like the cake part, but I preferred the creamy/jelly/mango layer on the bottom. So it was half good, half not. The cappuccino was smooth and easily knocked back after all of that food.

After drinking and eating some more, and baby girl going out of her way to greet everybody… it was nearing ‘late’ time, and we so we headed off down the hallway… just a minute or two walk to our rooms 🙂

Food: 8/10. Good menu, and satisfying food.

Coffee: 8/10.

Ambience: It was warm and relaxing, yet there was enough noise to still put you at ease and not have to worry that you were dining in a library (ahem, nose-in-the-air diners).

People: Apart from the above annoying people, there were a lot of families and groups, being a resort restaurant.

Staff: Our waitress was overly accommodating if there is such a term. Brilliant, so lovely and genuinely warm.

Price: Surprisingly, for our large group, where there was a multitude of drinks and all kinds of meal plates, as well as desserts and coffee, it only came to $205! I actually can’t believe that, but it was true. So clearly I am saying, due to this it was definitely value for $$$.

Advice: Book ahead, being a restaurant within the RACV resort, it is a given to be busy most nights.

In a nutshell: I really enjoyed this resort, as we all did, and because of the fond memories made there, both at the resort and restaurant, how could I not want to go back? We dined at Radius for breakfast the following morning, and I can confirm their consistency, as the buffet breakfast selection was great.

The holiday was short and sweet, but so, so good. I want to go back, now.

Radius at RACV Resort. Keep it on your radar. And then zoom in.

RACV Inverloch Menu, Reviews, Photos, Location and Info - Zomato

Happiness Is… #10

My Sister.

You know how most people only have time for themselves? I don’t mean that in a selfish way, I mean just generally how people can barely look after their own dramas, let only those of others?

You know how people promise that they’ll show up, or help you, and most of the time they’re just empty words?

You know how people pretend to care, but secretly they’re envious of your position, what you have, or something you’ve achieved?

All of the above: not my sister.

If everyone had a sister like mine, there would be no war in this world. Because if they did, she would talk them out of it, so that everyone would be singing and dancing and holding hands ‘We are the World’ style.

I don’t say this because she is my sister. You may think I am bias, but trust me, I am not. I am the luckiest person to have someone as beautiful, inside and out, as her in my life. Growing up, my friends without sisters, wished she was theirs. Even my friends with sisters, wished she was theirs too.

I have never met anyone else so giving of her time and energy like her. She will lend an ear when you need it, and not even be irritated if you call at the wrong time. She will drive across town to help you out, despite having to take her boys to school or get them babysat. She will move all her events and plans around, so she can get to the other side of the earth, and help you, willingly, and happily, with a smile. She will do so, genuinely, and not expect one ounce of help for her, in return.

Despite hardships she faces, she will give you her time and wisdom when you’re facing a problem. She won’t get mad when you whinge about something trivial, and she won’t have a go at you because your problems aren’t as big as hers. And God knows, she could complain, if she was that kind of person. She has problems, she has challenges. If anyone were allowed to be angry, or sad, she would be completely forgiven for it. And yet, she smiles. She continues to be positive and thankful, and does everything at once, to please everyone at once, because that’s just her.

She gives so much of herself, of her inspiring, beautiful energy, to everyone around her… even those who don’t deserve it. I get mad sometimes, because I find myself thinking ‘why are you so nice to them!’ That’s her greatest fault, right there. She is too nice.

She is so selfless with her time. She will drop the 101 things on her plate to help you out. I am still sometimes bewildered by how giving she is of herself in spite of all the things going on in her life. She works, has a husband, and 2 boys, and I just don’t know how she fits it all in, and is still able to be there for others. She is wonder woman.

She’s one of those people, that everyone loves. If you were to not like her, sorry (actually I’m not) but something is severely wrong with you. You can’t even say she’s too nice, because she is so much fun, so happy, so up for doing new things and partying and drinking with you, that she is genuinely an EVERYBODY’S person.

I actually can’t put into words, how amazing she is. Because it’s one of those things, that until you see it, and experience it for yourself, you just don’t know. She’s one of those special, once in a lifetime people, that once you find, you hold onto with all your might.

She’s my sister, and I’m so freaking blessed and lucky and stoked that she is mine.

Thank you Big Sis, for being the best person there is. You make the world a much happier, lighter and brighter place with your presence.

I love you. We all do.

Love, Little Sis.

You can FLY!

Something to think about on the very eve of this Christmas Eve.

I came across this on facebook a while back. I immediately fell in love with the thought.

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It’s a fairly simple, inspirational sentiment. It plays on that voice we all have, that inner-critic, that doubtful, insecure part of us that just doesn’t know, just isn’t sure, and is just scared. Scared to try. Scared to fail. Scared to fall.

I have a fear of falling. I have a fear of steep inclines. Through much in-depth research via family recollections, I think it may have originated from an incident that occurred when I was a toddler, and went stumbling all the way down the flight of stairs we have leading to our back yard. Dad says, despite my fall, I ended up with no scratches on me.

It took a lot of willpower when I first went skiing years ago. I tackled the easy slope in a heartbeat, and after half an hour was bored of doing the same trek up, the same basic ski down… until my sister pointed me to the next, devastatingly scary slope. It was very steep, for me as a beginner anyway. Seeing how far down I had to ski, at that angle, terrified me to no end. Even now, I don’t know how I did it. Was it my teenage no-care guts? The fact that it was this, or the boring slope? Or her words to me: “Don’t look ahead. Just stare immediately in front of you, and it won’t seem so scary when you’re skiing down.”

Her advice worked. I fell a couple of times, yes, totally stacking it when I ‘accidentally on purpose’ looked ahead and quite frankly, shit myself. But it was nothing insane. I fell. Got tangled in my skis. Struggled getting up at times, but each time, I got up. And then, I skied down again. And I got better at it.

We all have that fear in us, of failing, of falling. The sad thing is when that fear actually takes over, and disables us, paralysing us into no action. That is a terrifying concept. Staying where you are, static and unchanging, because of your fear that you will not make it.

We need to take that chance. Really, there is nothing to lose. The worst that will happen is you will have to try, and try again. Not doing anything won’t bring you closer to what you want, so really, all you really do is GAIN from the experience. At the very least you come out with more courage, capability and in some cases, a great story to tell in hindsight.

You know what I really love about the above poster?

‘But baby, what if you fly!’

!

There is no question, despite the second part being an oppositional thought to the first. There is no question of flying. It is just such:

‘fly!’

Nothing but an exclamation of thought.

You will fly!

Every dog has their day

Dogs and Days. This idea has been flitting around my mind the last couple of weeks. It provides me with hope for the future, yet reminds me that life has its ups and downs, and to be grateful for the wonderful things that come my way, while they are around.

An old clock my sister used to have said “Good times and bad times have one thing in common. They never last forever.” Quite appropriate being on a clock.

Having to be different, I look at the dog saying in another way – not just in terms of ‘your success will come,’ but the meaning for me personally, has always been ‘every one will get a bad day.’ I know it’s not meant to be interpreted that way, and is probably a rather odd interpretation for a glass half-full gal, but if you just think of the way people say it: it’s always a mellow “every dog has its day,” rather than a chirpy “Every Dog Has Its Day!!!” – complete with cartwheels and a full cheerleading routine.

It depends on which way you look at it. You could be dismayed by the thought of good times ending, or be relieved by the promise of a rainbow at the end of hardship. Having gone through a rather difficult year, which has, as it’s gone on become better and better, especially with the meeting of our baby girl, I have to say that the thought of each dog having their day actually makes me feel ok, and grounded.

As much as I’m loving Motherhood (really, it’s cliché but so true what they say: It’s the best, and you don’t know ’til you’ve done it), I see and hear my friends and family out enjoying their lives, being free from major responsibility, and just generally doing whatever the hell they want to do AT THE MOMENT THEY WANT TO DO IT. And I can’t help myself, but I think: ‘That’s ok. They will have their day.’

I’m not trying to be cruel. I don’t mean it in the way it probably comes out. In fact, I can’t wait for all my family and friends to be in the fortunate position we are in and know what a blessing it is to have a beautiful family you are so, so proud of. I’m so happy, I’m rapt. But I guess sometimes I feel like, ‘they don’t understand,’ and it’s probably what our own family and friends with kids wished for about US, before we had kids, and I see all the childless couples out there living it up, and I remind myself ‘we used to live it up,’ and then I say ‘we’ll live it up again’…

We will get our days too. The good doggy days I mean.

I think what really frustrates me, is that if I’m wanting something else, does that mean I’m not happy now? No. It just means as normal, that we want too much. I want too much. I want what I used to have, while still having what I have now. I don’t think I’m that unique, I think it’s the natural order of things to be thinking like this, especially for us Mums. We don’t get many breaks (every sense of the word) and we just wanna every now and then let our hairs down and out and get smashed on cheap wine because we haven’t had alcohol in over a year but then we still wanna come home and be watching our babies sleep before running off to barf up yellow and green bile in the toilet.

But it’s still annoying. Because, as society tells us, we should be content with what we have, and if we’re not, we’re bad.

You know what other discoveries I’ve made in Mumhood? You really do find out who your friends are. And family. I’ve learnt who really cares, and in the case of my cousins, who would drive across town to come see me and baby girl, time and time again… while that ‘close’ friend I thought I’d reconnect with, because she all loves kids and stuff? Well yeah. Just that.

But you know what I think about her? ‘She will have her day.’

I won’t be a bitch, as somewhat gratifying as it would be. When she has her day, I will be there for her. Not saying “I told you so.” Just being. Because I wouldn’t want anyone to feel the way I’ve felt in the past.

I know that Hubbie and I have had a rather big year. A couple of huge ones in fact. And when you go through heavy shit, people tend to leave you alone, and give you space. But they don’t realise that after a little while, you want someone around, you want someone to reach out, and you want to know that someone cares and is thinking of you.

Same goes for having a baby. Apart from the never-ending 1-2 hour visits to meet baby girl, people then leave you alone. They think you need your space – and too right you do. But then they continue giving you that space, past the 2 month, 3 month, 4 month… 7 month marks. And you’re like ‘really? I do still have a life you know.’

And then you realise they don’t yet know. It still hurts a bit, but you realise they don’t know. And that’s ok, because one day they will. They will have their day too.