Today's guest post comes from the amazing Diary of a Premmy Mum. I really admire her, and think her blog has an honesty and openess I can't seem to capture. Thank you for contributing this heartfelt post.
My name is Leanna and I am currently a full time- stay -at home Mum to
Mr. G and Baby-Roo (Smidge)
We live in a lovely farmhouse in Devon with my long term partner and
soon- to -be hubby Stephen. Our home is beautifully nestled in a
tarmacked field, the chickens being the only living survivors of a
capitalist overhaul.
In this diary I offer a personal account of what it is like to have a
baby born at 25 weeks gestation,weighing in at a teeny 1lb 7oz. Watch
this space and see me scribble about our everyday muddles and
struggles. Share my funniest thoughts, my silliest ideas and all my
ranty ramblings as the aftermath takes hold and corrupts my fragile
mind..
Well it's a great privilege to be back over here on Not even a Bag of
Sugar, but what do you blog about when Kylie has pretty much covered it all? So
if you'll pardon the self involvement I'm going to post today in true diary of
a premmy mum style, about counselling if you please, and how I feel it helped
me.
Just before leaving the NICU, I was lucky enough to access a councillor, provided for me by the hospital free of charge. I remember walking in to that first session, still numb, shocked and anxious. I had no idea what to say but I know I feared exposure. I'm not talking about the therapist flashing her bra and knickers, no, I'm talking about being snapped in two when you are already a broken woman.
Yet still in all the madness I knew that there was a fat back log of issues waiting to download. An intense pressure burning within - It ran through me like hot volcanic lava waiting to erupt and disseminate into luminous puddles of agony.
But the mind wasn't geared up to spew, not at that moment in time anyway. We were in stand by mode you see, a natural state of ambivalence from having to be strong for too long.
And the issues that burned inside, they couldn't be seen or understood. But they were everything that I ran away from and everything I fought against but still truly, I knew they were a part of the new me and that I would need to work hard to understand all that had happened and all that I had feared.
Before walking in to that first session I quickly Googled the impact of prematurity on post natal mothers and found this statement.
'Mothers of premature infants may experience feelings of anger, guilt or disappointment'
So I sat down like a robot, my demeanour one of a woman of confidence, togetherness and reflexivity and I told the counsellor lady straight out that I was Mother of a premature infant, that I am experiencing feelings of Anger, guilt and disappointment.
Of course what I actually felt was beyond words, beyond definition, beyond my understanding. But to state that would make me feel powerless, and I felt strangely obliged to feel something as well as the need to demonstrate a level of competency control and understanding. All of which were abundantly lacking.
We are eighteen months down the line now and still I attend counselling every two weeks.
With the kind and gentle guidance of my counsellor I feel I have grown in to many of those feelings I laid out, the ones I set as parameters for, for growth and understanding.
And now I see the lava on the floor that poured out, drip by drip by drip. There is no burning pressure, there was no great eruption.
Just sneaky, hot, spiky lava
Drip by drip by drip.
I'm glad I went to counselling.
Just before leaving the NICU, I was lucky enough to access a councillor, provided for me by the hospital free of charge. I remember walking in to that first session, still numb, shocked and anxious. I had no idea what to say but I know I feared exposure. I'm not talking about the therapist flashing her bra and knickers, no, I'm talking about being snapped in two when you are already a broken woman.
Yet still in all the madness I knew that there was a fat back log of issues waiting to download. An intense pressure burning within - It ran through me like hot volcanic lava waiting to erupt and disseminate into luminous puddles of agony.
But the mind wasn't geared up to spew, not at that moment in time anyway. We were in stand by mode you see, a natural state of ambivalence from having to be strong for too long.
And the issues that burned inside, they couldn't be seen or understood. But they were everything that I ran away from and everything I fought against but still truly, I knew they were a part of the new me and that I would need to work hard to understand all that had happened and all that I had feared.
Before walking in to that first session I quickly Googled the impact of prematurity on post natal mothers and found this statement.
'Mothers of premature infants may experience feelings of anger, guilt or disappointment'
So I sat down like a robot, my demeanour one of a woman of confidence, togetherness and reflexivity and I told the counsellor lady straight out that I was Mother of a premature infant, that I am experiencing feelings of Anger, guilt and disappointment.
Of course what I actually felt was beyond words, beyond definition, beyond my understanding. But to state that would make me feel powerless, and I felt strangely obliged to feel something as well as the need to demonstrate a level of competency control and understanding. All of which were abundantly lacking.
We are eighteen months down the line now and still I attend counselling every two weeks.
With the kind and gentle guidance of my counsellor I feel I have grown in to many of those feelings I laid out, the ones I set as parameters for, for growth and understanding.
And now I see the lava on the floor that poured out, drip by drip by drip. There is no burning pressure, there was no great eruption.
Just sneaky, hot, spiky lava
Drip by drip by drip.
I'm glad I went to counselling.
Thank you so much for sharing this post, I am about to start counselling at a PND centre and had been a bit concerned after a previous helpful experience. Your post has made me less fearful as I really don't want to explode! Drip by drip sounds good to me. Thanks again x
ReplyDeleteGorgeous post and I had a similar experience. Luckily, my counsellor had too had a prem years ago and had a very good level of understanding personally as well as professionally. She was my rock for a long time. She also gently had to tell me in the height of my mummy-bot days that it wasn't particularly healthy and if I could begin to allow myself to "feel", although it would hurt like billy-o it would help to feel less crap. She was right! x
ReplyDeleteI so wish that I had been offering counselling after the birth, as you had. When I eventually did have it it really helped. A lot. But it took a PTSD-induced breakdown to get it and that is just so wrong.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you are able to access the help you need and hope that in reading this, other parents of premature infants will be inspired to push for the same.
Ps: Kylie, I'm not sure you get much more open or honest than a frank Aussie! :-D We all have our different styles though, and that's a very good thing.