Long time, no see...

So it's been over a year since I wrote my last blog post, and what a year it’s been! Thinking that I wanted to document our transition to a family of five, write about adapting to being a mum of three boys, how they all coped with the transition and change in family dynamics, was what prompted me to start this blog in the first place. Well, how naïve I was!

Who the hell has the bloody time for such indulgent activities?!?!?!

Along with managing a newborn again (do they ever bloody sleep?), my eldest started prep, which was a lot more consuming than I ever imagined, and Nate started family daycare. Managing my small business (even without actually teaching, it takes up a lot of time and mental energy) as well as finding time to shower every day and remember to feed everyone, I’m not sure when I thought I was going to find this miraculous “free time”, and the even more elusive, “motivation and energy”, to do anything other than collapse into a coma on the couch once all 3 boys were finally in bed.

So that just about explains why it's been so long since I’ve sat here, with my computer, in a peaceful house and managed to write. It took a bloody global pandemic for everything to slow down enough, for this to happen!

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve furiously scribbled on bits of paper at random times throughout the year. Mainly when my brain has been on the cusp of bursting. Often in the middle of the night, after breastfeeding, when I couldn’t shut my brain off. Or more memorably, one Saturday night when I was admitted to a psych ward (more detail on that in a later post, obviously) where I poured my heart out over more than a dozen pages, which are basically illegible.

So I’m finally here, to catch you up on the craziness that is life with my little man tribe.

THE BIRTH of darling baby Edward.

This little possum of mine is about to be ONE and I simply cannot believe it!

Thinking back to this time last year, I had just recovered from a mystery illness that no one was able to diagnose. It had started on a Friday night when we got fish and chips. I could barely eat anything because the salt was stinging my mouth so badly. I looked in the mirror and had, I swear, no less than 20 ulcers on the inside of my mouth. Now I’ve never had an ulcer in my life, but my sister has always suffered from them, so I knew right away what they were. Over the next 3 days, the pain in my mouth and throat grew so bad, I couldn’t eat and could barely even drink water. I remember we had our family maternity photoshoot on the Monday evening and although they came out wonderfully, I remember whispering to Craig that my lips felt like they were going to burn off, from the wind at the beach, and I ended up vomiting in the car on the drive home! This just shows how a picture can be very misleading. Anyone who saw them would have thought we were the “perfect family” and that things were going smoothly.

Anyway, a few days later, after blood tests and swabs showed up nothing, I was admitted to the hospital's maternity ward. This was very strange as the ward is so familiar to me, after having 2 babies there. But to be there without an actual baby and knowing I would be back in 6 weeks was very strange. All the nurses had to wear gowns, masks and gloves (global pandemic anyone?) just in case I was contagious. Being in the same ward as newborn babies with a mystery illness is not ideal, but they needed to monitor bubs and make sure he was ok. After a few days of morphine for pain relief and fluids to keep me hydrated, I was finally able to drink water and gently eat some food. More swabs and tests and they still never figured out what it was. Their best guess was that it was my body’s autoimmune response to being run down and exhausted. This gave me a swift kick up the bum and a much needed “reality check” about slowing down, before bubs arrival.

The next 6 weeks were spent recovering and gradually handing over my Pilates sessions to my trusted employees. We also had the first term school holidays which allowed for some wonderful quality time with the boys.

Edward arrived by scheduled caesarean, with no fuss or fanfare! He was born the same day as Notre Dame was on fire and taking over the news.

He was such a dream. The most gorgeous little face and head of dark hair, that spiked up all on its own. He slept like a “newborn”. I never understood this saying as my other two boys never did it. But Edward would sleep for 3-5 hours at a time and wasn’t even disturbed when the hospital fire alarm went off, three times during our stay!! Being in hospital with him was very relaxing, compared to being at home with 2 boys. Other than the pain and bleeding of course.

The Paediatrician noticed a tongue tie and snipped it straight away. None of the horrendous drama we had with Nathaniel’s tongue tie. He fed very well and was generally very happy. We had no schedule and I was able to just follow his lead. He had very clear signs, when he was hungry, tired, needed a nappy change or a cuddle. I wonder if he was any different to my other boys? Or if I just finally understood what I was doing, the third time around? Oh well, we’ll never know as our family is DEFINITELY complete.

Coming home and he settled into our crazy household very well. The best surprise, was actually how beautifully Nathaniel adapted to being a big brother. I knew Alexander would be great, as he had shown us this before. He was also busy with school and activities, so I didn’t have any concerns about him. However, Nathaniel wasn’t even three yet and seemed to enjoy being the “baby” of the family. I was very worried he would get jealous and act up and possibly be too rough with him. Well, what a waste of time and energy that turned out to be (like so many things that we stress about, that never eventuate) Nathaniel couldn’t have adapted any better. He was so gentle and caring and absolutely in love with his “baby Edward”. Everything seemed a bit too good to be true.

At about 9 weeks old, Edward and our whole family got sick. It was a terrible virus that led all of us to have bronchitis. At 10 weeks he was so unwell, I ended up in ED at Frankston hospital with him. His breathing was very laboured and noisy, with "sucking in" at his throat and neck, and he was quite floppy. We were admitted for 5 days. He was on oxygen the entire time and needed a nasogastric tube to feed, as he didn’t have the energy to breast or bottle-feed. It was so awful as my other boys couldn’t visit because they were still sick themselves. I was also struggling with a horrible cough the entire hospital stay and barely had any sleep at all. This event was the catalyst that led me on a downward spiral. Seeing my baby so sick, was quite traumatic for me. I have such admiration for families who have very sick kids. I cannot even imagine how they cope. I suppose you don’t know your strength until you really need it.

We came home and he recovered. It was a very long winter, where it seemed as if someone was sick the entire time. My sleep suffered and my anxiety climbed.

I went back to the gym, as this is a great outlet for me. I always feel better when I exercise and it provided some “me time” away from the boys. I also slowly started back to work. Although working was difficult to fit in, I love my job and it helped me feel like my old self.

All the while, Edward was growing bigger and more gorgeous every day. Unfortunately, being sick seemed to break his good sleep cycle. So we were back to newborn sleepless nights, like with his brothers.

My OCD tendencies started to creep back in.

Now, possibly the worst decision I have ever made (only time will tell), I decided to undergo Sinus surgery. After suffering from sinus issues my entire life, and with multiple sinus infections throughout last winter, which always resulted in antibiotics, which then meant I had an incredibly cranky and unsettled baby, I took the advice of my ENT and bit the bullet.

To be continued………

Casey xx