Don’t tell me I’m too young to be a good mother

With a pink blanket under her head and her seatbelt nicely fastened I walked through our local supermarket collecting our groceries for the week with my daughter in the baby seat of my trolley. This particular week I decided to start purchasing foods for my daughter to try, now I’m not really about those premade baby foods (but if you are then you do you! nothing against it, just a personal choice) so I was putting things in my trolley like organic sweet potato, pumpkin and avocado. Unbeknownst to me the truth of societies still prehistoric views on parenthood was about to rear it’s ugly head.

As I turned the corner I very nearly bumped into a woman’s trolley which she had left in the middle of the refrigerated isle. I veered pretty sharply in order to miss the trolley,  which of course startled my daughter, no more then running into the other trolley would have anyway. She cried, like babies do, so I stopped momentarily to talk to her and comfort her out of her fright. Whilst I paused I unknowingly had blocked the woman from her stranded trolley, so she approached me with a louder than necessary “Excuse me!”. I pardoned myself and moved my trolley aside, my daughter still crying and myself completely in my own mum world deliberating whether to pick her up to stop her crying or to try and distract her with the dummy she had lost interest in five minutes ago. So it took me by surprise when the woman turned to me for a second time as said “she’s not yours is she?”

Now I’ve had my fair share of questions in public, mostly regarding my daughter being my sister and my own mother looking too young to be a grandmother which are all usually met with a bit of a laugh and then me explaining that she’s actually mine. This time I felt a sting of judgement coming through. I smiled at my daughter and looked at the lady and said “she sure is! isn’t she beautiful, she’s four months old”. She peered at me down her pointed nose and said “Well I don’t think children should be having children, but she is quite cute. Bit of a shame” A SHAME. If you know me you would know I hate confrontation, unless I know you well enough to pull you up on something I generally let it slide for the sake of saving an argument. This is my family though and I’ll be damned if I let someone tell me that it was a shame that my beautiful daughter existed as my daughter.

“Thanks for your opinion, although I didn’t ask for it. Not sure how many children you know but not many of them are in 5 year relationships with the person they want to spend the rest of their life with. Guess I’m just lucky hey? Have a nice day” my heart was pounding and I was out of there as quick as I could go, neglecting to pick up the butter I was in the refrigeration isle for! I pushed the conversation to the depths of my brain hoping never to think about it again but after seeing a few fellow “young parents” attacked on social media recently for their age and their apparent inability to care and love their own children I figured now would be a good time to think about it, and god forbid, talk about it because it is 100% not okay.

All parents, regardless of their age, love their children, they want the best for their children and they will do anything they can to help them grow into wonderful, compassionate and loving adults. Regardless of the house they live in, the clothes they wear, whether they are married, how much they spent on their car, if they’re homosexual OR if they’re still what you would consider teenagers. If they were mature enough to make the decision to bring a child into the world then they should be admired for doing so, and for doing the best they can for that child.

The love you have for your child can’t be measured by how many toys you’re able to buy them, whether you could afford to send them to an expensive school or buy them all of the latest gadgets. Love is measured by the smiles, the hugs, the kisses and most importantly the empowering conversations you can have with them about becoming the greatest person they can possibly be. To care for the people around them, to love unconditionally and be accepting of everyone regardless of their differences.

I might not be 25 with a mountain of savings in the bank reserved specifically for having in children, my partner and I might not be married but we sure love each other like we are and we’ll give our daughter every ounce of love we have to give before we will ever let her feel unwanted or unloved. Young parents, don’t let anyone ever discourage you, your baby thinks you’re the greatest mummies and daddies in the world, and without you, they wouldn’t exist. You’re doing an amazing job, and if anyone thinks any less then maybe they should take a look at what’s missing in their lives before they make any negative comments about how beautifully full of love your life is.

 

xx Emily

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Third Trimester Tantrum: 8 things you are OVER by the end of pregnancy


Isn’t carrying life beautiful? The kicks, the glow, the joy of bringing another little human into the world who is half of you and half the person you love.

Well yes and no. All throughout pregnancy there are ups and downs, but pretty much all women (besides the blessed) get to around the end half of the third trimester and absolutely spit the dummy. They’re tired, they’re swollen, they’re cranky and in their minds, they’re utterly done. 

I’ve compiled a list of 8 pregnancy related things that I’m currently done with, in hopes someone, another mother, mother to be, or just anyone really, might find it a little funny. Mostly because right now, I’m completely losing my mind.  


1. Not being able to see my feet

or tie up my shoes, or shave my legs, or pick up things I drop. Basically from the hip downward is “out of bounds”,”no go zone”, “restricted area”. And yes in the beginning it’s funny, people pick things up for you and even tie your shoes for you (princess or what?). But as I’ve found out, asking your partner to shave your bikini line for you, after the 10th time, is no longer glamourous nor funny. You miss your independence! And god, being able to go for a walk without getting someone to tie up your laces.

2. Heartburn

I no longer am experiencing heartburn as Bub dropped a LOT further about a week ago. But I tell you what up until now, since I was probably 30 weeks I had not enjoyed a single meal. And I say this in all seriousness. After all how can one enjoy a meal when they feel it creeping back up their asophagus after 3 bites. 


3. Mood swings
Men, if you think your partner is bad during her “week”, then you just wait until she’s been a walking incubator for YOUR child for the last 8 months. Her hormones are through the roof, and for the most part, in her eyes it’s your fault. I’m not sure what anyone else experienced mood wise during this part of their pregnancy, but I’m pretty much either deliriously happy or a sobbing mess. And on the odd occasion when I’m cranky I usually just nap it off (lucky Dan right? though he’s probably sick of the tears by now). Living life never knowing if you’re about to cry or laugh gets old, reaaaalllly quickly.

4. Cramps

Cramps in your feet, cramps in your calves, cramps in your back. You’re basically a giant knotted muscle. And delightfully they only tend to happen when you least expect it. Ie, you’re asleep, just about to stand up, or mid stride. When you’re off guard and unsuspecting they usually lead to a unintentional yelp which causes an awful lot of concern from the people around you “are you okay? sh*t, is the baby coming? Did your waters break?”.  No, I’ve just been shot in the calf and can’t walk, but it’s fine…

5. Braxton Hicks Contractions (BHC)

Whoever Braxton Hicks is must have been a real bastard in life to have pre-labour cramps named after him. Up until about now BHC are fairly manageable, they’re short, sweet and usually only happen around 2-3 times a day. For me though, I’ve gotten to the stage now that for the last couple of weeks they happen more often, they’re more painful and honestly just down right bloody awful. Any mum that experienced them in this way will know, you either want them to get worse (and labour to actually progress) or you want them to kindly f*** off. Sitting up until 1am not really being sure if you’re in labour or not for 3 nights in a row isn’t and never will be fun.

6. Being the Sober Driver

I’m not, and never have been a big drinker. Ask anyone who’s whitnessed it, excessive amounts of alcohol and me don’t mix. But do you remember when you were a kid and your parents told you you couldn’t have something, and it just made you want it even more? Welcome to the life of a pregnant Mumma at any alcohol related social event ever. You don’t even want to get drunk, you just want a damn glass of wine to take the bloody edge off being around people who are drinking. I mean there are studies that say you can have just one… but honestly when you’ve got a little one inside of you, you become insanely protective. And that includes not just “giving in” and having a glass. Because come on guys, drunk babies are not okay. No matter what anyone says.

7. Opinions

And no I’m not talking about the well intended opinions from people who are already parents. I’m talking about the so called “parenting advice” you receive from people who either A. Have never had children or been pregnant themselves. B. Are physically incapable of having children (yes men, you). C. People who tell you you should or shouldn’t be doing something that you’ve already said you do or don’t want to do. Hello, people… it’s kind to ask if someone wants advice on something, and better yet it’s kind to actually know what you’re talking about before giving it as advice. It’s pretty simple really though, if you’re sharing advice good on you, but if you’re sharing your opinion for the sake of displaying that you know better than the expecting parents, its best then not to say anything at all. 

8. Needing to pee. Always

During the third trimester you come to realise, very quickly, that your bladder space has indeed been compromised. And even more so when a certain little someone decides to get friendly with your bladder with quick and swift elbow or kick, causing you to lose all control and wet your pants. Liners for this reason have probably been your best friend for months. And I tell you what you’ll be very very done with them by third trimester.

So there it is. 8 things I’m done with. 3 weeks left (technically) give or take. Let’s hope I survive… otherwise a lot more than a ranty blog post will be in order. Honestly though, we all know it’ll be worth it when you see that little face for the very first time. Because all the pregnancy crap in the world could never overshadow the fact that your life has been completely changed forever by someone you’ve only just met. And I bet you already can’t take your eyes off of them.

Our moment is coming. And I can’t wait.