From DINKS to baby Bennett #1

My hubby and I met at 24 and 21 respectively. In a mutual friend's garage at her 21st celebration. I remember none of my friends or family taking it seriously as I had only broken up with my previous, and first, boyfriend days earlier. But love is love and timing made no difference. He was it. My big love and I never looked back.

After less than a year, he finished his apprenticeship and wanted to go and backpack throughout Europe. After many emotional discussions, we decided a long-distance relationship was a no-go. But if I could scrape together the funds and go with him, we would soon know if we were meant to last. Travelling together non-stop for 9 months sure was a test but I'm pleased to say we both grew so much over that trip and grew even closer. A massive challenge during this time was after I had a bicycle accident in France. A broken collar bone, dislocated shoulder, a haematoma on my hip as well as a large amount of gravel rash, skin damage and black eyes meant I needed a lot of help and support from him. He had to do things for me that I wouldn’t ask him to do now, after 14 years!!!! Although at times I think he was a bit too tough on me, I certainly toughened up and became a stronger person. I also knew that if we could get through that together, whilst overseas with no support from family and friends, we could get through anything!

So after coming home, we enjoyed many years as DINKS (double income no kids). We took more trips overseas, I purchased my first unit, we got engaged, married and then Craig built our own family home... which was certainly a labour of love.

So what comes next? A baby...

I would never say I was maternal. Friends were always oohing and aaahing over babies. But not me. Most of the time I had to remind myself to offer to hold my niece and nephews as it certainly never came naturally. I was worried I was missing the maternal gene. We were extremely lucky that we conceived easily and the pregnancy went very smoothly. I loved being pregnant and was always reading up on all things pregnancy-related. I was able to keep working right up until I gave birth and all seemed well.

On the inside, however, I was panic-stricken. What did I know about looking after a baby? I hadn't ever even changed a nappy!!!! How would I get it to sleep? What if I couldn’t breastfeed? How would I cope with being so tired? I had always been a big sleeper. The questions just kept going around and around.

I still swear to this day, that I never went into labour naturally because my body was too tense and my mind was not ready. But at 41.5 weeks they induced me. It took forever. I was admitted in the afternoon and put on a monitor. I was given a “membrane sweep” and also given the prostaglandin gel on my cervix to try and get it to ripen. Nothing happened. After a sleepless night, they applied more prostaglandin gel again in the morning. Nothing. After many laps of the hospital with nothing changing, they took us to the birth suite and broke my waters. Still nothing. After hours of waiting, they gave me a drip of Syntocinon. And oh my god it went from 0-100 in no time at all! I tried the gas and have a very clear memory of feeling so high and realising that when I sucked on the gas, it sounded like Darth Vadar's heavy breathing. I remember laughing at this. It's funny the things that stick in your mind.

Then when it felt like I could stand no more, I asked for an epidural. Because my contractions barely had a gap between them and seemed to be very intense, they thought it might be too late so sent for the Obstetrician to have a look. I WAS ONLY 3 CENTIMETRES! Some people get to 3 centimetres without even realising! Why was my body not cooperating?

So then came the epidural. Going in, like most women, I wanted to try and NOT have an epidural. I was petrified that I would end up paralysed. I even said to the poor anaesthetist when he arrived "you better know what you're doing and you better not paralyze me!" I'm sure that was a great workday for him. I don’t know why it is, but I feel like we are made to think we 'should' be tougher and not need one. But I call bullshit. Everyone feels pain differently and none of us would go to the dentist and willingly let them do surgery without an anaesthetic just because "people survived back in the old days". I also wouldn’t let anyone amputate a limb of mine without anaesthetic even though that happened a lot "back in the day". Anyway, hats off to those of you that never needed an epidural. You're a great person. And hats off to those of you that DID have an epidural. You're also a great person. Chapter closed.

Anyway, after the epidural, I felt much better. I could still feel the contractions but they were back to a manageable level. They did have to adjust the needle though as at one stage it was only affecting the right side of my body. Not the left. A very strange feeling indeed. Now that my pain was manageable, I felt like I could continue like this for a while. But baby Bennett had other ideas. He started to get very distressed. When they turned off the drip, his heart rate would normalise and everything else would stop. No contractions at all. Then when they pushed the meds again, his heart rate would spike. So after a slight lull in proceedings, things ramped up very quickly. We were raced into surgery for an emergency cesarean. I clearly remember 3 distinct feelings.

1. Panic, that something was going wrong and that my baby or I would be hurt.

2. Relief, that it was nearly over and I was going to meet my baby soon.

3. The alleviation of guilt, that I had felt at asking for an epidural. Even if I had managed to "tough it out" I would have needed one for the cesarean anyway. Pheeeewwww.

The cesarean went well although I have never been so tired, scared and relieved all at the same time. It was exciting to finally know we had a son and that he was very healthy.

I am hesitant to write this but in the spirit of honesty, I will.

I did not feel an overwhelming surge of love for my son. I had been led to believe that the moment he arrived, I would forget everything else and bask in the glory that was my child. This did not happen. I knew that I loved him but it wasn’t what I had been expecting. Again I felt that I must be missing a certain maternal gene. Everything hurt. I was so tired. He seemed to never sleep and always cried. I didn’t manage to get through a single night at the hospital without the midwives coming and taking him for a few hours. How was I ever going to cope at home?

Reluctantly, we were discharged and I was full of fear and anxiety as we made our way home. This little guy relied on me for everything and I had never been responsible for anything but myself in my entire life. I had always been a perfectionist and obsessive neat freak. I liked control. This little guy was about to teach me a HUGE lesson in how to cope with the chaos that is real life.

Gradually my love for him grew and grew until I did in fact feel like I loved him with all my heart. However, I certainly did not love motherhood with all my heart.

My family were extremely supportive and helpful, as was my husband. Which only made me feel like more of a failure. If I wasn’t coping, how the hell did all the people out there cope who didn’t have so much love and support around them.

I struggled to breastfeed but refused to give up. I had never had any particularly strong feelings for or against breast or bottle feeding, but I knew if I stopped I would just add that to the never-ending list of failures I was experiencing as a mother. Or at least things I felt like I was failing at.

I now know that I was suffering from terrible post-natal depression. This went undiagnosed for over a year as I refused to go and seek help. Another thing that I felt would make me a failure. But once I did start to receive treatment, my entire outlook on motherhood and life changed. I was a lot more responsive to my son’s needs and was ultimately a much better mother. I just wish I hadn’t been so stubborn and got help sooner.

I’m pleased to say that after 2 gruelling years in the trenches, I was ready to try again. My experience with my second son, Nate, just made it clear to me, actually how horrible my first experience was. But more on that later.

We had tougher things to get through first……

Love to you + your tribe

Casey xxx