66 Days – Judgement

Wow. It’s really going fast now. 66 days until I’m holding my baby boy, positively shitting myself about the prospect of two under two. 

What the hell am I doing? 

Oh well.


I’ve been thinking a lot about judgement lately. In the past, I’ve been one to judge. I’ve tried to actively stop myself now and try to see the good in people, or try to see things from the other perspective.

Of course, with the Liberal government, there IS no other side. Bastards!

But I digress.

It’s mostly with parenting. Why do we feel such a strong urge to judge other parents, on things that are seemingly meaningless to us?

Heidi Klum let her daughters wear high heels out in public today. Scandal.

Who cares? Who are these people having a serious mental breakdown about footwear?


Honestly, I need to stop watching morning talkback TV. It frustrates me that people get so frustrated about meaningless shit. 

It’s a vicious cycle. 


75 Days – Fatigue

I barely remember the days and weeks that came after my daughter was born. I was exhausted, stressed beyond belief, my whole world had been turned upside down. I didn’t know what such exhaustion existed until she was born.

Now I’m 28 weeks pregnant, and I feel that level of exhaustion.

And that terrifies me.

I’ve had people tell me that third trimester exhaustion is worse than newborn exhaustion, but I find that so hard to believe. E woke up on an hourly basis some nights, sometimes she didn’t go to sleep for 6 hours, and when she did, she only slept for two. It was torture. It was legitimately torture. I absolutely hated those first months of her life.

I’m not going to lie, I’m terrified of doing all that again, especially with a 20 month old to look after.


Put this away

Thankfully, E did let me have a 3 hour nap today. It was incredible. I just hope she keeps it up when I really need it. I also hope that the universe rewards me with a good sleeping newborn. I got kinda ripped off with the first kid, even if she’s amazing now.

79 Days – All Good with the Hood

Master Hood, you is all good.

Head up, bum down, but no one cares because I’m having a csection. As if I didn’t already know that was a big, hard head, right where my stomach should be. Weird. 

Because of the position of the baby, it took freaking forever to find a heart beat. It was kind of terrifying. I was trying to keep calm while silently freaking out about what was happening to my baby. They found it eventually, but man, that was a nervous couple of minutes. 


I guess you realise what you really want when you think it might be taken from you. Life is weird like that. 

82 days – Priorities

With E, I pretty much totally gave up coffee. Any time I had caffeine I felt incredibly guilty. I felt like I was drugging my baby.

Thinking about that makes me lol so hard while I drink my morning coffee, feeling master H go crazy in my belly.

Anyone who judges that doesn’t know the following;

A) what it’s like to raise a toddler
B) what it’s like to be pregnant

I’ll probably regret this when I have a newborn coming off caffeine, but let’s be real. I’ll still be drinking coffee while I breastfeed him.

84 Days – Desperation

Imagine being so desperate that you’re willing to give up your child, because you don’t feel like your living conditions are safe enough to raise a child.

Imagine being willing to kill yourself because you believe that if you weren’t around, your child would have a better life.

I can’t even imagine, all I can try and do is empathise. 

A drawing by a pregnant asylum seeker.

That’s the desperation facing women in Nauru every single day. Pregnant and new mothers are faced with the heartbreaking “choices” that they think they have. Although it has been confirmed that adoption of refugee children into Australia would be a “legal minefield”, as these young individuals are still seen as “illegal”. 

How heart breaking is it, that a human being could ever be considered “illegal”? 

I become overwhelmed by emotions when I try to step into these women’s shoes. Their babies have weeping sores, ringworm, and other skin infections. These women are so distressed that psychologists on Christmas Island describe their mental state as being in “crisis”.

And yet, the Prime Minister of Australia, Tony Abbott, treats these people as if they are terrorists whom they will not negotiate with.

“No Australian government should be subjected to the spectacle of people saying ‘unless you accept us, I am going to commit self harm,'” Mr Abbott told Channel Nine on Wednesday.

“I don’t believe any thinking Australian would want us to capitulate to moral blackmail.”


Pardon me, Australian Government, for I am moved. 

Day 85 – Fat Face

Fat faces = young faces. 

I think, in hindsight, I was on the receiving end of a lot of stigma during my first pregnancy. I’ve always looked younger than I am. I have a chubby, round face, and I barely ever get any pimples. It makes a person look younger. It’s a good thing, especially when you start getting older. 

Except when you’re pregnant and having your first baby.

I thought that the midwives in my hospital were just mega bitches, but maybe they thought I was a teenage mum? Not that that explains away their behaviour. Any mum should be treated with respect. I just remember them being quite patronizing. 

I mean, shit, I had a bedtime! 

Hopefully, this time around, being pregnant and caring for a toddler will have aged me considerably. 

Or hopefully this time I’ll have such a short fuse that I’ll be able to say “fuck off” when someone tells me how to parent my baby.

Day 86 – Fandom Parenting

God, I just really want to go to the cinema you know? Curse my inability to leave my child with a babysitter. It’s not even about the money, or the stranger factor. It’s that I don’t want someone looking through my house. How weird is that?

I don’t know why there isn’t an option to pay for a cinema ticket but to see the movie at home. I think I’m going to have to bring my newborn to a midnight screening of Mockingjay. Because I NEED to see it! 

Or I need to get my priorities straight?