Let's begin with the unrealistic things I thought when I was pregnant.
I was THAT pregnant lady who thought her baby would be fine to go straight into their own room - in a cot. I thought I would be fine to leave my baby with someone for a few hours easily. I even spoke to and (nearly) convinced Tom to buy tickets for the navy ball that was on just 3 short weeks of our sons birth.... OPTIMISTIC!
I never thought I would call daycare 5 times a day... after a month in. I never thought I would facetime my Mum on my lunchbreak when she came up to look after him and I never thought I would cry when I left him for a simple hour appointment.
But, I did and I do. These things are my life and I've learnt that it is okay to be doing these things and feeling this way.
We have been through a lot together; Thomas and I.
It took us ALOT to be able to welcome him into the world healthily so, in part I feel a little silly that I didn't see my resistance to let go of him a little earlier in the piece. I think when you are pregnant you are an awesome parent. You have all these things you will do and an even longer list of thing you would "like never ever do, in a million years" with your own child.
But, once that child is in the world; everything changes. In a split second your whole world is turned upside down and on its head.
All of a sudden you are a little less selfish and a whole lot of selfless.
Suddenly, everything you do and everything you think isn't for you or about you anymore - well, I now this was the case for me anyway.
As a lot of you know our pregnancy wasn't an easy, smooth or quite frankly, enjoyable. We had more downs than ups and it was a struggle to understand that our baby would arrive healthily in the end.
This and the fact that Tom was deployed when he was just 7 weeks old; I think are major contributors to what I like to call #stage10clingermum.
I never really knew it was an issue - I knew I hated leaving him. I knew it was a hard idea for me to grasp.
I knew that I suddenly would day dream and worry about insane things happening to him; like his pram rolling onto the road and getting hit by a truck or someone coughing over him and give him stage 4 cancer.
The "bubble wrap" so to speak was wrapped thick and tight. For a very long time, in some way - it still is there. It is just layered a little thinner.
When Thomas was 12 weeks old we had a wedding in the Gold Coast. Leading up to this I as adamite that my Mother-in-Law (who also attended the wedding) would take him home half way through the reception to bed and I would stay, party with friends and have some well deserved me time. I pumped for WEEKS (literally) leading up to accommodate this but, when the time came I actually couldn't it. The fear and anxiety struck and it struck hard.
Anxiety was not a new thing for me. I have suffered from this for many years but, anxiety on the level of a Mum when another human being is involved is a whole other thing to accept and understand.
It took me over an hour to allow her to take him and actually wrap my head around the fact that he was actually in safe hands (this I ever doubted) all I knew was that they weren't my hands. What if he needed me and I wasn't there? That's often what goes through my mind.
Anyway, she took him and I stayed a whole hour longer - I was proud of that. This was the longest I had ever left him.
It was at this event that I realised maybe my separation nxiety was a little more intense than normal but, I didn't seek any help for it. I just thought I was his Mum and it was normal to feel this way.
As the weeks went on we dealt with a lot. Being in Sydney, with no real support it was hard to juggle a newly diagnosed reflux baby with changing medications, finding out my ankle was still broken and being notified that my first surgery was unsuccessful, being in constant agony and chronic pain all day but, also showing up and being the Mum I needed to be. He didn't have anyone else - I was it.
I knew that if my ankle had swelled extra that day, he would still need to be rocked. If it had collapsed from under me again, he would still need to be bathed. I had to push on and push on I did.
If I craved garlic and tomatoes - I couldn't have them. They flared up his reflux.
If he was in pain again - the tummy massage was coming from me.
I clung to him - like a life raft. The one thing I as sure of. Me and him, him and me- always.
The only constant and unchanging thing was his company and the fact that I was his Mum. His only Mum. That was something that would remain unchanged. Our bond was something that helped me through.
When I needed to get my second surgery is when the full blown separation anxiety kicked in. I had to leave him for the night. This was something I struggled with a lot. This and the possible recovery process.
I cried, sobbed, and wept for what was weeks leading up. I couldn't bear the thought of being away from him. I had only ever left him an hour. I struggled a lot with accepting that during my recovery I would have to be a different Mum to him. I couldn't be what I was previously. That wasn't fair for him - He deserved the best Mum in the world for he is the best son.
I was convinced that he would be missing out. That caused me immense guilt and self blame. I was sure that he would know things were different and he would resent me.
The thought of being unable to go to him freely, to play and to actually have to get someone else carry my baby for me destroyed me a little inside.
It took a lot of talking to others, using coping strategies and well, accepting that the surgery was going ahead regardless. I guess I just had to suck it up. It would only be temporary and then I could be everything for him again.
That helped me cope a lot.
My surgery actually went a lot better than expected and all of my fears and worries were actually for nothing... go figure.
When I first recognised my separation anxiety I felt like I had to explain myself a lot- justify the way I was acting. I had to apologise for my tears, sadness and angst.
Now I realise that I never should of felt that way. Who is anyone to tell me how I should feel about my child.
Who is anyone to tell me to leave my child and get over it. Who is anyone to tell me that I should be okay to hand my child over to strangers or family members. Who is anyone to brush off my feelings and needs as my sons mother.
When a child is born everyone is so obsessed with the new baby and their needs. Which is understandable but, what about the Mum?
What about our needs? Shouldn't they matter too?
Nearly every person told me that leaving hi, is good for him. But, what if it isn't good for me? It brought me more stress than joy to even think about leaving. That was not something I wanted to feel. I didn't want to be a stressed Mum - that is not the energy I wanted for him. So, not leaving was the best for me.
I understood that family were trying to help by allowing us to have some time to ourselves but, I didn't need that time. I needed time to be his Mum. To deal with my own emotions and struggles with my son by my side.
It took a lot to realise that I wasn't his blanket. I wasn't his comfort. He was fine to be with others. It was me. I was the one who was so attached. At this time in my life, I need my son. He is someone I didn't know I needed and I never thought our children could actually support and be our back bone. I thought that was the parents job but, I've realised it isn't always that way.
Our children can mend wholes that we never knew existed. They can be our comfort and our safety.
Being attached to him is okay. The level of attachment I had may of been unhealthy but, it worked for us. It helped me cope in a really tough time with a really tough situation. He was my safety blanket and he still is - that hasn't changed.
A single cuddle from him can make me feel needed, complete and whole. When he cries for me and I can be what he needs - I feel like I have done my job. I have helped his character and his childhood be beautiful. Somet
Who is anyone to tell me that I have to let go of that?
Until next time,
Carly xx
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