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Some of you may be thinking I’m a little bit early, some more of you may be thinking, “what on earth is Samhain?”
I best start with answering that question. It’s a Pagan festival that happens on the 31st October and it marks the end of the harvest and beginning of Winter. You will also know it as Hallowe’en.
So now all of you are thinking I’m a little bit early. But I’m not..
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I have to admit, this is a post about a specific conversation. But it got me thinking, and it got me thinking about something that I find tough to think about. So I figured getting it out of my system might stop it circling around in my mind.
You may have read before that I have struggled with disordered eating. I still struggle with the thoughts and still have the same triggers.
I want to talk about some of those. Shouldn’t need saying, but trigger warnings galore here.
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I don’t get on with my body very much. In fact that’s quite an understatement. And today that self loathing hit me like a sledgehammer. I’ve got a romantic day out with my husband planned, at a spa, we’ll be getting massages and spend time in steam rooms and jacuzzis. It all sounds heavenly. The problem is that I need swimwear now, so I thought I’d pop in to town and pick up a swimsuit. In my excitement about the spa day I forgot just how bad it could be. As I stood in the changing room, listening to the size 8 teen in the next cubicle complain she was too fat and needed to be at least a size 6, and staring at myself in the full length mirror I felt utterly broken.
There I stood, size 20, an overhanging belly, fat dimpled thighs and upper legs, sagging boobs, and massive silver stretchmarks cobwebbing their way across large swathes of my flesh.. I felt disgusting. I wanted to be sick, I wanted to starve, I wanted to binge, I wanted to cut and carve and tear away chunks of flesh. I wanted to physically hurt.
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Have had a less than positive experience recently with a local hospital, which is a shame because on the whole we’ve always had a lot of help at this particular hospital. And we’ve been there a lot!
But this particular problem is pretty big, and does make me nervous about going back there. Given the health problems my daughter and I have had this is not a good thing.
I’ve written about the difficulties faced both during and after my daughter’s NICU/SCBU stay. It really does mess with your head in a way that you just cannot anticipate.
I saw a post last year; it simply said “PTSD – The hidden cost of having a premature baby?”
Nothing can prepare you for parenthood, but you allow yourself to imagine the arrival of your baby; those first precious holds, taking them home to meet loved ones, the time together to grow and bond – and then suddenly everything you imagined is dramatically replaced with the alien and uncertain world of neonatal intensive care.
seeing our son for the first time
It is widely reported that parents who’ve spent time with their babies in neonatal care are a greater risk of developing anxiety or post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Some studies suggest that it affect as many as 70% mothers following NICU and given the nature of NICU this shouldn’t come as a surprise. Yet this is a topic that remains relatively unspoken about and more importantly there are limited, and in some areas…
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Monday 17th November 2014 is World Prematurity Day, a day for talking about around 15 million babies born prematurely worldwide. My daughter is one of them, and while I was aware of premature babies prior to her birth I was most definitely ignorant to how hard it could be for the families of these tiny little miracles. I learnt the hard way, and it could have been harder still, I am very fortunate to live in a country with an amazing health service where babies like my little girl stand a good chance at life.
Around 60,000 are born in the UK, and the best charity to follow about this is Bliss, also a wonderful charity to donate to, they have been a fantastic support through some very tough times and do a lot to help families with babies in SCBU, including working with doctors and nurses to make sure care for prem babies and their families is as good as it can be. I am writing my story to share, and I advise you to follow them on @Blisscharity for more stories.
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My mental health issues have been talked about a bit on here, so I’ll assume it’s known that I’m not always doing wonderfully.
I have previously used the Samaritans, and have always found them wonderful. When I’m able I do try to donate to them. Fantastic service, more people should support it!
That out of the way, I’m really not sure what I think of #SamaritansRadar.
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Thanks to my gender I’ve known from a very young age that the expectations for me were radically different than the expectations for a child born to the opposite gender.
Thanks to my gender I was taught that it was preferable to be;
– caring (even towards those who would hurt us – sometimes especially towards them)
– gentle (no raised voices, no swearing, no anger)
– accommodating (we learn to compromise, to put other people’s needs ahead of our own)
– carers (the eternal mothers, even before puberty)
– pacifists (we are mediators, the calming ones)
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