When are you going to have a baby?

Doesn't it seem five minutes after you and your partner have moved in together and someone is asking you, 'When are you going to get married?' or 'When are you gonna pop the question?' ..... Then at the wedding you get the 'When are you guys gonna have a baby?' or at the family party, 'When are you gonna make me a grandparent?' ...... Then as you are presenting your baby, fresh from the hospital, some smart arse asks; 'Are you going to have another?' and your I'm-still-wearing-a-muma-nappy-because-I-just-finished-pushing-this-one-out face gets greeted with, 'Wouldn't it be nice for them to have a sibling to play with?'

I mean, don't get me wrong, I have been guilty of asking these questions myself; but when you take a moment to stop and think, how blooming rude, impersonal and nosey is it to ask a couple those questions? What business is it of ours to ask without knowing what that couple are going through, or even what their preferences are? Society for hundreds of years has moulded us to believe we should be getting married and popping out babies. This is especially more fitting for women, because what else are we here to do but to marry and produce a male heir to the family kingdom? I like to believe society is starting to turn a corner with changing its ways, and as each new generation grows that these questions will start to either be better worded, or extinguished altogether.

As mother's day is this weekend, I thought I would share my motherhood story, but buckle up- this is not a fairytale!

I fell pregnant with Adam 3 months after my third miscarriage. All three were extremely early losses. We had booked our wedding for the following year so I had convinced myself that maybe I couldn't have children and I should concentrate on planning. I had gone dress shopping and brought my wedding gown when I was unknowingly 6 weeks pregnant. So, as I sat in our bathroom looking at that 'Pregnant' sign on the test my first thought was 'Oh shit' followed by a wave of happiness. This all changed with Chris's reaction of, 'What are you going to do?'

It was evident that Chris did not want this baby, he wanted me, but not the baby.

The worst part was, I got it, I completely understood his feelings- he was scared, unsure of the unknown and not wanting the changes that would come our way with a baby. I wasn't mad, just extremely sad. Chris would have quite happily just lived the rest of our lives just us two.

I spent the first 3 months of my pregnancy very sick, and feeling very much alone. All my family lived miles away, but I remained where I was hanging onto that little sliver of hope that Chris will come through for me. As the date of the first scan loomed towards us, I gave Chris the option of coming with me, supporting me and the baby; or, that I would go back to my parents and raise the baby myself. Chris came to the scan, we brought nursery furniture and we started planning the future. Unfortunately, the damage had been done, I was counting the days until the baby was out of me, I developed gestational diabetes and had to inject insulin every day. I already had developed depression and I didnt feel this connection with the baby that I thought I should have. It took Chris right up until 3 days before I was induced to touch my pregnancy belly.

My induction was long, I was in labour for 31 hours and pushed for 3. Adam arrived and my first feeling was pure relief that he was no longer in me. He was handed to me, but within minutes he started to grunt.

He was struggling to breathe and was taken down to the SCBU to be put on a ventilator. I was left alone in the delivery room completely unsure on what to do, numb, not feeling any kind of bond at all with Adam and in shock.

The next day Adam was moved to a hospital an hours drive away so I had to discharge myself to follow him. He had caught an infection which was attacking his lungs and had now developed pneumonia. I stumbled through the 2 weeks before we could finally bring him home whilst Chris stepped up, he took us back and forth to the hospital, made sure I ate, and was completely smitten by our little boy.

Naturally with the difficult pregnancy, the traumatic birth and afterbirth, I was in deep Post-natal depression. I was in robot mode for 9 months. I cared for Adam, made sure he was fed, clean and happy, but I wasn't really there. I would panic without Chris and eventually tried to end my life. It was a huge wake up call.

The main thing I learnt coming out of that period was to talk. Its ok to not be ok. I didn't say anything to the midwives about how I was feeling, I pretended everything was fine because I was so scared of being put away or being branded a 'bad mother' because I wasn't feeling the right feelings towards my child. As soon as I started talking I felt so much better; its taken me years to get to where I am today, I really do think we lose ourselves when we become mothers, I read a quote about flamingos and how they lose their pink feathers because motherhood is so stressful, but you know what? They get them back. You start to find yourself again.