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MASKING INSECURITIES WITH HUMOUR AND SARCASM SINCE 1987

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  • Pregnancy after Post Natal Depression

    Pregnancy after Post Natal Depression

    / November 7, 2019 / 1 Comment

    Hesitant to say ‘better’ or ‘healed’, the post natal depression, or depression (at what point do we switch and drop the post natal?) I suffered is very much off the boil, not even on a lower heat…

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  • Parenthood after depression

    Parenthood: Once bitten, twice not so fucking shy

    / September 11, 2019 / 2 Comments

    Parenthood changes your entire life. Heck, even wanting children changes your life. The journey into parenthood is different for each family, and so, the ride of parenthood is different. Of course, parents share similarities, the overwhelming responsibility,…

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  • baby announcement

    My pregnancy is not a secret, just none of your business.

    / August 22, 2019 / 1 Comment

    The choice for us to not share a baby announcement when we found out really early at about week 5, was primarily my choice. I knew before the 2 lines appeared that I wanted to keep this…

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Kirsty
Art installations no2. From the illusive artist. A Art installations no2. From the illusive artist. A call this wan 'Really?!' It's a pandemic mate. You're better using gold leaf for yer art, loo roll is in short supply. #whytho #kidart #kidsareweird #moreshittoclean #whodoneit #awonderwho
Some days, not even this bright smile can make me Some days, not even this bright smile can make me enjoy motherhood. Some days are just hard for a reason you can't name. Lack of sleep, tensions and monotony of parenthood can just flick the switch and you're in 'this is shit' mode for the day. Boredom and loneliness are huge factors. Everyone else seems to have a life, doing things, busy, working. And I'm a mum, a lil babies bitch. 90% of my day is doing things for other people, usually I don't mind. Usually I enjoy it. But there's days like today, when I don't want to do anything for anyone. I don't want to entertain the grumpy baby, get him down for a nap, only for the 5 year old to ask 'do you want to colour with me?'. I really, really don't. But I do. Because that's part of family life. The 5 year old isn't to blame for me wanting to climb the walls. Some days you just want freedom. To shop. To sleep. To eat. To just potter around the house doing whatever it is you feel like. Some days I wish I could hit the snooze button on that baby alarm, the one that moans after 20 minutes. Some days being grateful for your life just won't cut it. Some days I'm heard, spoken, looked and entertained out never mind touched out. Motherhood can be so, so rewarding. But make no mistake it's hard and boring AF on the dark days. #babiesareboring #7monthsold #7monthbaby #babyboy #motherhoodthroughinstagram #parenthood_moments #honestparenting
Are you really doing a jobby if you don't have a w Are you really doing a jobby if you don't have a wain in the bathroom with you? There is no other way to really enjoy a jobby without the tired eyes of a grumpy kid looking up at you. Chewing loo rolls that are more than likely covered in god knows what courtesy of the 5 year old. Sometimes a look up the word 'Privacy', just to get ma juices flowing. 'a state in which one is not observed or disturbed by other people' "she returned to the privacy of her own toilet to do a jobby in peace" Oh man, tell me more. Tell me more about privacy. It's a filthy and taboo word here. I'd love me 50 shade of privacy so a would. #widejobbyeyes #mawlife #honestlymothering #toiletbanter #privacyiseverything #privacyleftlongago #wimadignity #scottishblogger #glasgowblogger #onthepan #wibenjamin #itrhymes #jobby
Mid October, single figure temp, as per. 'Jess, ge Mid October, single figure temp, as per. 'Jess, get your shoes on' Jess.... Lovely. Weather appropriate and looks banging. Wee side note, this is 1 of 2 pairs of shoes that caused Jess to have a shit fit in nursery. They crumpled her socks and 'didn’t fit right'. Talking huge meltdown and kicking off of shoes kinda shitshow. With nursery staff and kids flocking to the scene of the drama. Meanwhile I had my hugely pregnant belly squatting down to her level, trying to contain both her upset and the need to void my bladder. Sweat bursting out of me. Unknown if I would be able to stand back up, and with my bladder dignity intact. Those shoes. At least we are getting the use of them now eh. Cani wait to hear how wet her feet are and how cold she is. #fashionhun #lookitup #lifeofkids #youdoyou #5yearoldfashion #kidswear #somethinglikethat #autumnvibes🍁 #fallvibes🍁 #jessvibes #pickyourbattles
These art installations are becoming such a regula These art installations are becoming such a regular occurrence that I can no longer deprive the world of their splendor. Always a surprise, covertly created, the artist is yet to be named. As are these incredible works of art. I'm open to suggestions. Currently, this particular feast for the eyes has been named: 'Curry Night: Almost Made It' Stay tuned for more imaginative creations from the illusive artist. #artinstallation #installation1 #bathroomart #trooserart #whodoneit #kidart #whytho #imagination #durtywashin #bathroomsurprises #whyisthatahashtag
Be that person that gives more than an ear when li Be that person that gives more than an ear when listening to someone speak of their mental health. Tell them your story, if you can. Make it awkward. Be the person that whips out the word depression in the store when a stranger asks how are finding parenthood. Some people look on like you've just ate a jobby in front of them, others gravitate closer needing the solace you are providing. IDGAF for the discomfort of others who do not want to hear the words mental health being said. Discomfort means nothing in the scheme of people feeling alone or taking their own life or living under a weight that causes families to fall apart. Just be that person who puts the chat on the table. You'll be surprised how many people want it to be there, even if they do start to twitch. You'll take a weight off them and you. Mental health can control people. But it doesn't mean that is who they are. People need to know that. #wmhd #worldmentalhealthday2020
When I was in the thick of depression, I HATED say When I was in the thick of depression, I HATED sayings like it gets better. The storm passes. It's a phase. Because, who are these people to see into my life and my future? I never felt belittled and yet, it pissed me off immensely. This makes me hesitant to share my joy and give words of comfort to others. I've been there. I've felt like no one cared. No one got me. There was no point or hope in speaking out. Parenthood and my mental health would always be a chore, forever hated. But darkness cannot last forever, one way or another there will be a break. Luckily, my break was the light. It beams out the laughing faces of my children. I look at them every single day and think 'how did I get so lucky'. When they play together, I'm reminded that's a noise we very nearly chose not to hear. A son we almost denied for fear of depression returning. I think of that, think how powerful the dark can be. Yet here I am today. A stranger to who I was even 2 years ago. I truly mean it when I say life can get better. Your frame of mind can change. You can feel love and connected again. Those mind demons are temporary, months or years, they will go. Not on their own, but it is possible. You can flip from the mother who hated, and I mean dreaded going home kinda hate, parenthood. To a mum that soaks up her children, almost wishing the days could be a little longer on occasion. You can stop the intrusive and utterly illogical thoughts. People do care, no matter what the mind tells you. I care! People are not out to get you or to hurt you. You don't need to be a victim to your demons. You are stronger and far better than they make you feel. If you love your demons, accept them but politely say 'fuck off', they will stop. Life isn't all roses, not everyday. I struggle, I have stressors, I snap and lose my shit. I'm always learning who and what I am. Thats OK. I am happy, content and grateful. At peace. A place, 5 years ago, I could never have seen. And I would have bit your face off for even suggesting it was possible to be here. #keepgoing #postnataldepression #mentalhealth #findingmyself #findingpeace #realparenthood #honest #lifeafterdepression #lifewithdepression
Sorry pal, the decision has been made. You will be Sorry pal, the decision has been made. You will be asking for that Nintendo shite. And you will be over the fuckin moon about it. No like that time at yer birthday when you stuck a dagger into ma heart saying 'but a wanted the LOL coupe car. I suppose the caravan will do'. (A hunted for a week for that caravan btw. That caravan she DID ask for. Asshole) #iveseenthetypo #butitsdonenow #truestory #savage #merrychristmas #yarocket #mawmemes #mumlife #ivestartedshopping #dontatme #naereturns #youwillbehavinit #lifewithkids
Just taking ma maw on the school run tae get the l Just taking ma maw on the school run tae get the love of ma life, ma big sis Jess. Sporting ma new hat. Ma maw says it makes ma face look even more bawfaced. She's a cheeky witch. But she's no wrang. Might have a Milky bar after the gym the night, no sure. See how a feel. Need ma calories and aw that eh #bigbabyben #bencheeks #bawface #newhat #schoolrun #babylife #mawsbackisbreaking #bigbaby #halftheweightofmasister #andim7month #giesasandwich
🤔 interesting, I've had over 5 hours sleep and 🤔 interesting, I've had over 5 hours sleep and of all of sudden I'm only at level 6 of shank a bitch. As opposed to level 10 yesterday when I could have rammed my car up a slow drivers arse and slaughtered my partner if he dared ask me 'are you ok?' while I glared at him over ma cup of tea. A could have reached nirvana states of tranquility today, but a woke to yet another empty toilet roll tube on the floor, a wain wi an attitude like shes been oot aw weekend on a comedown and a baby that did an almighty jobby which interrupted his morning nap. Lovely. #parentlife #ineedsleep #babiesaresavage #kidsarehard #funny #nofunny #losingmamind #losttheplot #enjoyeveryday #naebother
So glad I gave up my body to grow the child, my pe So glad I gave up my body to grow the child, my perky tits to feed the child, my glorious neat vagina to birth the child, my sanity to endure the child, countless nights of no sleep, nights of sleeping upright with her on my chest when croup prevented her from restful slumber. Protecting her precious wee mind from absolute slaughter and dismay by telling her 'oh aye, this play doh pizza is delicious'. Am so glad a dragged ma anxious arse to those maw and babies groups, which lets be honest, were a gateway drug for ma PND to really tear me apart. Am so glad I gave this little shit everything, for her to turn round and say, hypothetically, she would pick her dad to live with *if* she needed to pick. Thats just lovely pal. Am sure you and yer da, and his non torn skin from not actually growing that cheeky pipe hole you call a mouth, will live in fucking bliss. Took that like a bullet, a did. Or should a say like the stab of lidocaine injections, yea know the several injections in the genitals you ripped on yer way out. Asshole.
When we think of grief, we think of losing a loved When we think of grief, we think of losing a loved one. A death. An end. It's taken me a while to understand what the saddness is I feel when I catch myself loving every soft, chubby little roll of Benjamin. His bright smile that fills the room. I feel so sad because I'm grieving all that I missed with Jess. I've fallen in love with Ben straight away, I adore being his mum. He isn't a chore. This time couldn't be further from having Jess, my emotional state, enjoyment and love. Honestly, I hate that. I try not to feel that way, but I do. What I'm going through is grief. Hurting from the loss of this happiness I feel now, the life I didn't get to live with Jess. All the head sniffs and smiles that I didn't get to enjoy. I'll add grief to the increasing list of shit associated with PND that I never knew about. The hidden side of mental health that many parents will be suffering in silence, not even knowing exactly what they are feeling or why. I knew it was painful to not love your baby, but grieving what I missed never entered my mind. I wrote a blog post describing it in more detail, to help make sense of mind. It's available via my bio on the linktree or on honestk.com. #pnd #postnatal #postpartum #depression #honestmentalhealth #glasgowblogger #maternalmentalhealth #mumsmentalhealth #mentalhealing #griefjourney #grief #lostlove #selfcare
100% maw made chunky arm bracelets. 6 months of ex 100% maw made chunky arm bracelets. 6 months of exclusive breastfeeding, with no plans to stop. During the first few weeks in the transition from nips to nips of steel and HORRIFIC uterine contractions while he fed, I dreamt of the 6 month mark. So I could stop feeding, get my body back, be a little more free. Now we are here, I don't want it to end. Not even with his 2 very sharp teeth and 2 more on the way. Breastfeeding is one of the difficult parts of my parenting journey. Mentally damaging with my first, liberating and healing with my second. I still find it intense and exhausting. Theres a constant worry that my body somehow will stop feeding him correctly. That I'll eat something and upset him. Every ache is a sign of infection. The very real feeling of being touched out or having my boobs permanently in 'mum mode'. I do get fed up being his source of food and comfort, particularly when he switches up his sleep schedule and wakes 4 times a night wanting a feed. It can feel lonely, stuck and frustrating. We are 6 months in, a few months shy of when I stopped with Jess. A stop I was thrilled with, a mutual unspoken agreement between mum and baby that it wasn't working anymore. No looking back. I already know this time will be very different. I'll miss it. The tit slaps and sharp nailed side scratches, not so much. But I'll miss this huge part of our relationship, the function of my body, the quiet feeds at night when he gives me secret cheeky smiles after he has tried his best to remove my nipple from my body. I'll miss stroking his chubby wee hands. I'll miss his furious impatient nuzzles on my chest when I'm taking 0.01 seconds too long for his liking. I'll miss his bolting upright before he has removed my nipple, then lying back telling me he wants the other boob, now. I'll miss how he just uses me as a buffet then passes out, milk dribbling on his cheek, no shits given. I'll miss breastfeeding. Who knew. What an absolute mind fuck parenthood is. #breastfeedingjourney #titstothewild #6monthsebf #ourjourney #chunkybaby #mawmilk
Top quality baby entertainment in this house. Also Top quality baby entertainment in this house. Also known as scraping the bottom of the baby barrel finding ways to keep a tired grump happy. And then there's keeping Ben happy 😏 #sleep #whatsthat #6monthsleepregression #or #teething #or #justbabies #whoknows #savagebaby #giespeaceweeman #giessleepweeman #help
I love him 💜 with everything I have, I do. We s I love him 💜 with everything I have, I do. We shouldn't see our children differently, they are equals and to be treated as such. My love for my baby pains me as I couldn't love my first born. It doesn't eat at me, there is no guilt, no shame. But I can't express how much it hurts me. I look at videos of my first baby in wonder. Here is my second baby, I adore him, grateful for this love, lapping up every day I share with him, wanting time to slow. The experience with my first couldn't be further from this. I ache watching her as a newborn. I see what I missed. How could you scream at such an innocent, small face. I was so ill, I know this. But like love for my children will never leave, nor with this hurt. My baby was stolen from me. It's been 5 years and it's still excruciating. When devastation happens, we say hugs your kids tighter. The same is true for getting out the other side of depression. I kiss his cheeks a little more, I hold my daughter when I can, I cherish my time with them. For I know my privilege and my hurt. Both seem to be just as powerful as each other. That's not always a bad thing. I say I couldn't love my first, but in reality, there was love there. Not the rainbows and glee we are accustomed to, a different form of love. Love strong enough to keep us a family and climb our way out from the dark. A love that can endure the lowest form of theft no mother should feel. A love that kept the family together despite several pleadings to end it. A dark and selfless love, that made me tolerate my baby yet made sure she thrived. Still, it feels poor in comparison to how I adore my second baby. I hold no quarrel with the past, but it hurts. The comparison hurts. The loss hurts. Who I was hurts. The illness that warped my mind hurts. I take light in the pain, as a sign of knowing how far we have come and how much I truly and deeply love my children. For that alone, I'll welcome the hurt. Love is a luxury we don't all get to feel. #lifeafterPND #postpartumdepression #Depression #honestparenting #mentalillnessrecovery #myloves💕
A wee reminder that it's not the best idea to go f A wee reminder that it's not the best idea to go for a bath and mermaid yer hair when yer 5 months post partum. Unless you want to look like Chewbacca, well more than usual that is. The only time a treat anyone to a shave is when am goin oot wi ma pals, and since its been lockdown av hung the (stolen) Gillette up for a while. Mixed with mothering, av barely got the energy to eyeroll my teen self who wouldn't be caught dead out the house wi leg hair, never mind have the want to dust off the razor. Anyway, a fully expect to hear the rumbles of 'a think the shower is blocked' soon. A cani quite hear it right now. Ma head is too far up the fucking hoover, unwrapping what appears to be enough hair to facilitate the wigs necessary for a Lady Gaga world tour. Should have bought the pet version of ma vacuum. What an oversight that was. Do you know how fucking annoying it is to be wiping yer wains arse, over and over and over to get off what used to be ma side parting?! A don't know how or why the babys arse is constantly covered in ma hair. Truly. It boggles the mind. But it is what it is. It's no bad enough he is shittin for Britain, but now a need to add 'hair picking' into the routine. I'll no be committing any murders soon, nae chance I'd be able to leave a clean murder scene. Not even Dexter could pull this one off. Aye well, it was lovely to have ma lush locks. But it's back to looking like Gollum caught in the torrential rain - on a good day. #myprecious #5monthspostpartum #byehair #mrmuscle #drainunblocker #needstosponsorme #baldpatch #butnoonmalegs #mightmakeawig
Breastfeeding seemed like the lesser of 2 evils fo Breastfeeding seemed like the lesser of 2 evils for me. Less to do with bonding and nutrition, the choice was based on my own needs. Im terrified of my baby being upset, it tenses my shoulders, makes me unable to focus. I have this belief a boob will sort everything. Its quicker to whip out than make a bottle. No hungry screams. No frantic hurry to make a bottle. I willingly placed the sole responsibility of feeding on my own shoulders. Now I see why breastfeeding contributed to my depression. It's so much more than sustenance. Being the machine that creates another humans food can play terrible mind tricks. Every cough, upset, perceived sore stomach you wonder what you done wrong. What you ate. If your latch was wrong. You question what YOU have done to upset your baby. You fret over what YOU can do to make it all better. All too often society reinforces the idea that the mum is at fault when the baby is upset. What did you eat? Maybe he's still hungry? How do you know if he is getting enough? Do you want me to bottle feed him? Maybe nothing more than concerned words of help, but they can also cast doubt into the already washed out mum. Who has been sold the image of a mum and baby, smiling as they feed. Abundant in love. We don't often see babies pulling and squirming. Upset with letdown force or lack of. Fed up suckling at hind milk, impatiently wanting the other breast. We dont see babies refusing breasts, for reasons only known to their own little minds. The slapping and nipping of chests and faces. Full feeds being thrown back at the mum, while screaming in pain at something. You wonder why this 'natural' process isn't like the warm, fuzzy, happy pictures you've seen. You wonder, with every single challenge, what YOU are doing wrong. As a 2nd time boob feeder, I know I am doing nothing wrong. I know this is hard. I know a perfect latch will not help soothe nipples being sucked 24/7. I know I have really little to do with breastfeeding, it's more about the mood and age of my baby. What he is going through rather than what I'm doing. I know, this time, it can be enjoyable. #breastfeedingawareness
This was Jessica's little pink hippo. One of many This was Jessica's little pink hippo. One of many baby items we kept. Each one of them bring forward a memory, all with a string in the tail. I found the mobile we had on her crib. I remember adding it to her made up crib, all clean and ready for the arrival of our little lady, sending a picture to my mum. This thought brings me to tears. In this mobile I see the excitement of first time parents, then the crash and destruction that quickly followed. I have no memory of using it, only the pre baby happiness. Yet the mobile symbolises unhappiness. PND not only stole the joy of my first baby, it continues to gut punch me as I revel in love and contentment with my second baby. I feel what I missed. I feel sad all over again for myself, my partner and my baby. I feel the strength in my growth and happiness, but it hurts to close the door on that chapter of my life. We don't want more children. This is the last time I will use these items. I've always been ready to be rid of PND, and now when that is happening I feel a sense of grief. I never thought I would be sad at leaving behind a very difficult stage in my life. Who would mourn such a darkness? But this is where I find myself. Emotional closing the door on a shitty time. Reminded every day of the love I missed when I look at my happy baby chomping on the hippo. My past seems so foreign to my life now. It's strange to hold a baby I love completely while holding a toy that was given at the height of my depression, to my daughter that I couldn't love. I didn't expect to be happy this time, let alone be wading through the emotional leftovers of PND. Fucking glad I am though. I'll take blurting out crying at a hippo over crying about self hate any day of the week. PND isn't just something you get over or deal with, it's going to be life long. Pulling up memories and pain when it sees fit. Replaying the most horrible and upsetting replays of events when you get a whiff of baby shampoo you used first time around. Everything is a trigger. And I'm not even sure im ready to give up those triggers just yet. #PND #Depression #depressionrecovery #Mentalhealth #mindfuckery
'What can I do for you' he asks. 'Be mum' I reply. 'What can I do for you' he asks. 'Be mum' I reply. Mum is tired of her role. The constant 24/7 demands. Being chained to the baby who wants to nap, yet hasn't mastered the art of napping quite yet. The baby that requires entertainment in his wake time. Mum wants a break from trying to work out what the baby wants, confused at his refusal to feed, then accepting the boob 3 minutes later. Mum is being torn in her role of 'mother of 2'. Watching her 4 year old's mental health nose dive as we continue in lockdown. Mum cannot give her babies what they need and it hurts. The guilt and pain kills her, the adjustment to 2 kids while being in lockdown is taking it's toll. Mum feels the immense weight of parenthood and the household pushing down hard on her chest, suffocated in this stifled environment. Combined with her post partum body, worries, changes. Her thoughts on her own future, the future of the family, our goals and aspirations. There is no rest bite in her mind. There is no peace. There are no sleepovers, no babysitting, no days out which the 4 year old thrived upon, no nursery, no social norms for her children, no village. Mum cannot 'give' anything more than survival right now. And even that is beginning to crack. I don't want to be mum in this environment. It's more than relentless. I want to be free of the extra pressures lockdown is causing. I want my 4 year old to wake with a spring in her step again. I want my baby to let me shower without shouting for me. I want my shoulders to drop without my instruction. I want the roof of my mouth to be clear of my tense tongue. I want not to dwell on the mental impact this is having on my family. I want a break. This burden is too much to carry. But I'm a mum, a parent. This is our job. Albeit in one of the most trying of times. And so I say 'be mum', not to be cruel or aggressive. I say it fully expressing this daily torture for wanting the best, yet not able to provide. Not for my babies. Certainly not for me. I say it because this is hard. And there is nothing I can do about it right now. I will continue to endure, but make no mistake. If I could hit the pause button on 'being mum' I'd smash it.
There are all different types of babies. And there There are all different types of babies. And there are all different types of mothers. Some mums relish babies, the cuddles, the rocking to sleep, attached at the hip, sniffing up every ounce of their baby. Some mothers embrace and adore the relentless need for some children to be close to them all the time. I'm not that mother. For a long time I thought it meant I was a bad mother. It goes without saying that I adore my children, but fucking hell, I do not want to be in contact with them more than needs be. This mother needs space and silence, alone time to recharge. Space on the sofa void of tiny feet. A baby who likes his crib more than the rocking of his mothers arms. This mum is easily over stimulated, a noisy room and a crying baby tighten the vice around her head. Making soothing a baby and answering questions too much. We are told to enjoy and lap up every second of parenthood, to have independent babies, yet always be with our children 🤔 else we are just not mothering enough. It's ok to be whatever type of mother you need to be in order to raise kids. Being less excited about cuddles and co sleeping doesn't make you less of a parent. Judging and maintaining your own boundaries and mental health should be a priority. Setting your limits doesn't make you less loving or a bad parent. I for one, endure parenting some days, and others I love it. But each night after my hour of being alone, I'm recharged and ready to do it all again. Excited for the future, grateful and thankful for my family, for each day we get to spend healthy and happy. And so I give myself the kindness we all should allow ourself. I'm not a bad parent, I'm just not one who would add 'loves babies' to her parenting CV. I'm not happy being constantly needed, not all the time. It's taken a lot of mental work not to become agitated when this happens. Some days, I can't handle it and it is too much. Some days I need to cry and escape into a quiet room for 5 minutes. I don't see this as a bad quality. I see it as a result of me giving my all to my family. Maybe too much for me to sustain, but I am trying my best. And that's all we can do. #mawlife #wainsgotmelike #lockdownlife
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