Author: Sally

As it's Mental Health Awareness Week I've decided to share a blog from a fellow mum, Catherine. Catherine had spent 20 years as an admin manager, PA and senior secretary for international companies, government organisations and a national charity. After neurosurgery in 2012 and radiotherapy in 2014 Catherine was left with chronic health problems and Addisons disease, which came with various symptoms,
including fatigue. Working 9-5 in a stressful, busy office environment wasn’t great for her health or work/life balance. Catherine’s family was taking a back seat too and life felt like an uphill struggle.
Determined to continue doing what she loved, what she’d spent her whole career doing well, Catherine read and researched how to transition from Personal Assistant to Virtual Assistant, and the rest, as they say, is history. Catherine now runs Delegate VA. Here she is speaking about her journey….

I was a single parent until my daughter was 15 and would describe my life with ‘PND’ as bloody hard work for 14 years.

Hello, my name’s Catherine, I’m 41 and a Mum of one and was diagnosed as having PND in 1998.

I think my post-natal depression started ten years before I fell pregnant! I know, I’m obviously still in the midst of it or don’t quite get what ‘post’ natal means.

Or perhaps the diagnosis after my daughter was born in 1998 was wrong, but I’d just had a baby what else could it be?

I remember writing on a yellow post-it note around a year after my daughter was born ‘I’m the luckiest person alive’ and I left it in my little address book. I’d just driven home with her from a friends and she’d fallen asleep, she was so beautiful – still is – and at that moment I felt so blessed, so lucky and then that was the last time I felt what I now know is ‘right’.

I hadn’t spent hours lying awake self-diagnosing, it was the days before Google, so my diagnosis came from the one person we put a lot of trust in – our GPs. Hell, if they don’t know what’s wrong then we must be dying, so I was glad to have the diagnosis after popping in to tell them I felt a bit weird – you know, suicidal, low, tired, hungry, not hungry, angry, sad, etc, etc.

I omitted to tell the GP I’d always felt a bit like this just that it had been exacerbated post natal. And I guess, because I’d felt this way for so long it had become the norm? I was prescribed diazepam initially, which didn’t do anything. I kept popping back and was told ‘give it a little longer’ and eventually sent to see a councillor who had a terrible habit of looking at the clock behind me every time I started talking. That just made me angrier.

Over the next ten years I was given various anti-depressants to manage my post-natal depression including Venlaflaxine, Sertraline, and eventually Prozac before I’d just about had a bloody nough! Absolutely nothing made me feel any better, every morning I’d wake up and after those initial few seconds of coming round I’d then reflect and think ‘right brain what mood are we in today?’. I couldn’t cope with stress, change or anything slightly off plan, which as we know is not how being a Mum is.

I’d look at families and other Mums and think they must be faking it, I can’t be the only one who’s struggling who nothing works for? I didn’t actually think for a second that my diagnosis might be wrong.

I took myself off the anti-depressants when I was 31 (2008) after an awful experience with Prozac – did you know you’re supposed to be monitored carefully when on this drug? It’s even banned in some countries!

Then in 2011 I started to get some very strange symptoms. Excessive hair loss, every time I had a shower the plug hole was absolutely full. I wondered if this happened every year, but for the life of me couldn’t remember? I’d also started to get terribly irrational, a train journey to Cardiff was horrendous – I had no escape plan should the train fall over or get hit. At the time, I didn’t even think I was being irrational, I just thought everyone else must’ve already considered it and have their plan ready – or they just weren’t aware it could happen. I’d then noticed when watching telly and the ad breaks came on that I couldn’t remember what I was watching – in just a few seconds my short-term memory had failed.

My periods became stupidly heavy – a tampon and night time towel would last minutes and then, my periods stopped altogether.

Memory loss, loss of periods for over 12 months, hair loss, memory loss, brittle nails, fatigue and memory loss.

After a year of pointless full blood counts, a patronising female doctor who said ‘I think you’re a little bit stressed love’ and three doctors desperate to get me back on anti-depressants I asked for a referral to a private consultant. I was referred to a gynaecologist as my GP’s felt that the loss of my period was the main problem. He decided he’d do some sort of test which helps determine whether you’ve gone through the Menopause, but said it wasn’t 100% and that we’d look at other things too. I went away a little scared that I might have hit the menopause but relieved that someone was doing something different to investigate.

That night the gynae phoned me at home at 8pm. He’d been going through my notes and wanted to know if I’d ever had a prolactin test? I said my memory was bad, but that I don’t think I’d ever heard this word before so ‘no’. Okay he said, come in tomorrow and we’ll do one – it’s just a blood test.

This prolactin test came back with a reading of almost 10000 – I have since learnt that a normal prolactin is around 20.

This determined there was a problem with my Pituitary Gland – don’t worry, if you’re like me you may never have heard of that either. The Pituitary Gland, as I now know, is one of the major parts of our body, it’s a little pea sized gland at the base of our brain and is in control of almost all of our bodies hormones – the endocrine system.

The high level of prolactin and an MRI determined that I had a tumour in the Pituitary Gland and this blighter was what was causing all those symptoms.

One significant symptom associated with a Pituitary tumour, in men and women, is lactating. Now I didn’t have this symptom but I also didn’t lactate when I had my daughter! I never told anyone because I put her straight onto a bottle. I didn’t think anything of it.

Let’s fast forward, because this blog is aimed at Mum’s and we don’t have time to be reading life stories, do we…

I had the tumour removed in 2012 and radiotherapy in 2014 after the blighter re-grew and although it was a very stressful time I am so glad it happened, because now I wake up, go to bed and live every day ‘happy’. Who even knew that was possible? I didn’t.

I can now genuinely write that post-it note out again and again every day – ‘I am the luckiest person alive’, not only because I am a Mum, but because I am better.

So, if your PND isn’t getting better or you feel every day is a struggle – it doesn’t mean you have a Pituitary tumour – but it might not be PND. Keep asking, keep badgering, get a second, third, fourth opinion. This is your life, you deserve to enjoy it.

Catherine x

A MASSIVE thank you to Catherine for sharing such a personal and complex journey, and offering such an insight. I for one had NO idea, and it just goes to show how varied and under researched mental health issues are.

If you'd asked me before my experience of PND what it was all about I'd probably have said it was a feeling of sadness some women get straight after the birth of their baby. I assumed it meant they felt all depressed and didn't really bond with the baby well. That was it. That was the extent of my awareness of PND. If someone had asked me before my experience of self-harm what that was all about I might have said something about Kurt Cobain. My naive view was that it was probably something a moody teenage emo type would do…..possibly while listening to grunge music in their bedrooms. I thought it was something they anticipated doing and would prepare for. Something they probably thought was “cool”. Am I embarrassed about my old views on all this? Hell YES. Just typing it now is making me squirm with shame.

Both PND and self-harming were things that crept up on me. I didn't get PND with my first baby and I didn't get it until my second was around 5 months old. It didn't take the shape I assumed it would. I wasn't really sad and I fiercely loved both my kids. I WAS incredibly exhausted; so much so I was hallucinating images and noises and I WAS incredibly angry. I was angry with pretty much everyone and everything and especially angry with myself. I'd had 2 babies just one year apart. Two under two was hard work, and add the fact my youngest had an undiagnosed medical condition which meant she cried and was in pain SO much of the time into the mix; it created the perfect storm. But my focus wasn't on my own mental health, it was on my babies and all the jobs I had to do to ensure they were alive and as happy as they could be. This was incredibly hard when the youngest was crying so very much. The toughest part was not being able to do anything about it. We tried EVERYTHING. We saw specialists, paediatricians, dieticians, cranial osteopaths, nurses, doctors….we tried cutting out certain foods, medication, special milks, probiotics, special cots, special slings…the WORKS. Nothing would bring any relief. And the guilt was unbearable. The guilt I couldn't stop my baby crying. The guilt my first daughter wasn't getting enough attention because I was constantly trying to get the youngest to stop crying. The guilt that I'd just shouted at my husband, my mum, my dad…because I was a horrible person. This would make me even angrier and even more likely to do it again. It was a horrible, vicious, exhausting cycle that saw no end in sight.

The self harm began in a subtle but violent way. It was an extension of the anger and sheer frustration I was feeling. I was up at 3am for the millionth time and I was so tired it felt like I was losing my mind. Every time I tried to put my baby down she'd SCREAM or wake 10 mins later. I was beyond exasperated. I grabbed a pillow, shoved it into my face and screamed into it. The pillow muffled the noise so no one else heard. After I'd done it I felt stupid. What had I just done? I didn't care, though. It provided a vent for the anger. In a way it felt good. I grabbed the pillow again and punched it hard before breaking down in tears. This became a new way of dealing with things. Screaming into and punching pillows in the middle of the night. It progressed on to punching walls. This would really hurt, but provided my first experience, I suppose, of “self-harm”. Unbeknown to me, the punching of the wall was my brain trying to find a way to cope with the sheer stress, anger, exhaustion, frustration and self-loathing I was developing in and for myself. It felt good as I was doing it. By now I'd learnt to take myself off to the quietest part of the house, away from my husband and the kids. I would punch the wall as hard as I could. The act of doing it provided a way for me to get all that inner anger, pain and frustration out, whilst simultaneously punishing myself for all my failures, which at the time I believed were 1. being a rubbish mum 2. being unable to do my main job of ensuring my kids were happy and pain free, 3. the guilt of the kids not getting the same level of attention and 4. being a crap, angry person who was horrible to everyone.

After a few of these episodes things progressed to me hurting my arms. Instead of punching walls I would get my finger nails and drag them down my arms as hard as I could, making big long red marks that would bleed. I think it was at this point it became clear to me that I was veering into the realms of “self harm”, as it replicated more of the Kurt Cobain/grunger style “self harm” I was familiar with. I suppose it was this that gave me the signal it was time to seek some kind of help. My husband had also noticed what I was doing and gently sat me down and said he thought it was time to see someone. I did see the GP and my road to recovery began. Luckily for me, self harming did not continue and did not get any worse. I am so thankful for this.

My experience was horrible and bleak and not a time in my life I'd want to go back to at all, but it did provide me with an interesting insight into both PND and self-harm. I now realise that they are both incredibly complex issues and can take many many shapes and forms. Like depression, perinatal mental health conditions can manifest in SO many different ways. It doesn't just have to be feeling “sad”. I found this graphic which illustrates the point brilliantly

credit for this graphic – www.kidspot.au

My experience of self-harm made me realise how complex that it is. Mine wasn't founded out of the quiet self-loathing you associate with grungers and emos. It was manifested from sheer anger and desperation. There is so much stigma surrounding it. I think there is a common misconception that thoughts and actions around self-harm are closely linked to suicidal thoughts, which I do not believe is the case at all. Self-harm is simply our brains finding a way to cope with incredibly stressful and tricky situations, and YES this can be common if we've gone through the life changing experience of having a baby. If you have experienced or are experiencing these kinds of symptoms, I'd highly recommend seeing your GP. This is where I began and the act of that visit alone began my journey to recovery. The Samaritans also run a totally free helpline, which is open to all and open 24 hours a day. They are fabulously trained and contrary to popular belief you do NOT need to be on the brink of suicide in order to call them. PANDAS Foundation are also there to support those with young families. The more we can talk and be open about it, the more people will seek help when they experience it or have feelings that suggest they may be going down that road. If you'd like to read another of my blogs about how to look after your mental health you can check out this article. The article talks of an amazing free tool you can use to monitor your own mental health, called Moment Health., which I highly recommend

This article was written by Sally Bunkham, founder of mumsback.com who provide new mum hampers focussing on the yummy stuff denied in pregnancy, while raising awareness of perinatal mental health issues and money for PANDAS Foundation.

Stacy McNaughton!

I was delighted to award the gorgeous Stacy our classic Mum's Back hamper. Stacy was nominated by her lovely husband Graham. She most certainly was a very deserving winner. I asked Graham a few questions about Stacy. Here's what he said

It’s been hard to avoid the recent chat of Kate, Will and little Prince Louis. So much has been focussed on the fact Kate had to get glammed up and step out to the world media so soon after the birth. Yes, I think it was too soon and yes I did feel a bit sorry for her. Does it place too much pressure on others to do the same? I’m not sure, really. I mean, we’re not all Royal Princesses are we? I just hope her and Louis got home and instated on the sofa in front of the telly with the remote control, biscuits, breast feeding pillow and ibuprofen at arm’s length very soon after THAT pic was taken.

All the chat and buzz around the Royal baby actually made me think a lot about those who, like Kate and Will, go on to have more than 2 kids. I remember the time I announced the pregnancy of my second baby. It was somewhat of a shock because it happened so very soon after my first (she was only 3 months old). There were a few key phrases I heard again and again….”haven’t you heard of contraception?!” and “was it planned?!” being the favourites.

I wondered how it felt for those going on to baby number 3 and beyond. Did it feel much different to their previous kids? Were there phrases they heard again and again too? I was intrigued! I asked my pals and community with more than 2 kids, and this is what they said…

“I generally just get told I have my hands full, but I did have an older lady in Waitrose tell me I had her deepest sympathy! I didn't really know how to respond to that!” – Kristina Van Egmond

“We got ‘was it planned?’ a lot and ‘are you joking?’, lots of comments about being outnumbered, definitely less cards and gifts (not that I was fussed about that), and people seem to think that because you’ve got three you’re just going to continue popping them out. NOT A CHANCE.” – Ruth Parfitt.

“When people find out that my oldest is a 15 year old girl (was 14), they automatically assume she will be a “mother’s helper” for me. No way! She’s a kid! And I don’t expect her to do the mum’s role!” – Laila Quick

“With daughter number 3 I had an old lady actually say to her as a new baby and in front of both my older girls, “were you supposed to be a boy?” before asking me “will you try again?”, spotting my 8 week postpartum bump and saying “Oh gosh, are you already pregnant again?” – Nikki Gibson

“’Does your telly not work??’ That's probably the one I hear most. I've also started getting people thinking my youngest is actually my eldest's child!” – Antonia Garnett-Clarke

Thanks so much to those that contributed to this! It always surprises me how flippant and rude strangers can be with their comments!

It can be easy to assume that those having more than 2 kids must be total pros; experts who have it all sewn up (no pun intended!!), but this is clearly not the case. They deserve as much love, recognition and support as those having their first. I mean, balancing more than 2 kids must be SO hard, right?! Two is hard enough for me. And yeah, maybe they do have all the baby stuff already so a new gift is hard to buy, but that doesn't mean the don't desreve one. WHAT ABOUT MUM especially? She surely deserves more of a treat than ever…she’ll have experienced OVER TWO YEARS abstinence in her life of all the yummy stuff denied in pregnancy….so surely she deserves a new mum hamper from us?? You know it makes sense. x

Sally Bunkham is the founder of mumsback.com, gifts for new mums focussing on the yummy stuff denied in pregnancy. £1 from every hamper sold goes to support the fabulous work of PANDAS Foundation.

My 3 year old said something that blew me away this morning. Something that stopped me in my tracks and made me choke back the tears. I’d just got back from my early morning walk. My husband had got the kids up and dressed and they were just on the tail end of their breakfast when I came in. Daisy came to join me in the kitchen where I was making my own breakfast.

“Hey Daisy! How are you? Nice breakfast?” I said, without much thought. She looked at me, pulled up her top and rubbed her belly in a comical way. “ooooh yes Mummy!” she said, “And look at my tummy…..it’s round and fat and BEAUTIFUL!”

She said it with no ounce of irony or shock factor. It was just a statement. She was feeling full, nourished and beautiful. I was suddenly hit with the beauty and simplicity of what she said. She was so untarnished by society and its shit narratives about our bodies and our own relationship with them. What she said was pure and innocent and true and I LOVED it. I wanted to bottle that mindset right there and freeze it, so it was with her always. How could I do that? A slight sense of panic set in as I realised that probably wasn’t possible.

The funny thing is, I’d just been listening to a podcast by Lola Hoad (One Girl Band podcast) about the Inner Critic. I’d been thinking about it all the way through my walk. About the evil things we tell ourselves…..I think we all do it. I’m terrible for it. My inner monologue is always at it “you shouldn’t have eaten that.” “You have NOT done enough exercise.” “You procrastinated SO much of the day today.” “You didn’t give the kids enough attention this morning, – that is crap parenting.” “You haven’t worked hard enough. Your sales are SHIT this week…what a joke” “You should just get a “proper” job and stop pretending you can run your own business”….It goes on and on. My inner critic….let’s call her Sue, (in the podcast Lola explained hers is called Barbara. I like to think of Sue and Barbara bitching and cackling over coffee) is a total BITCH. I’d NEVER say the things Sue says to anyone else. Oh no, they’re saved just for me.

But when did Sue start piping up in my head? I’m not sure. Maybe it was after another kid called me ‘thunder thighs’ aged about 8. Maybe it was when a boy laughed at me and said I had a moustache aged 15. Maybe it was when I noticed I was much bigger than everyone in ‘Just 17’ mag. Maybe it was when I couldn’t pronounce a word in an English aged 12. Who knows? I do know I can’t remember a time without Sue being there, lurking somewhere.

I don’t think Daisy or her sister have a Sue or a Barbara….yet. And I want to keep their inner critic bitches at bay as long as I can. All I can do is keep supporting them and encouraging them. I tell them I love them about a million times a day and I hug them and kiss them ALL the time. So much so my youngest’s favourite catch phrase is “NO WET KISSES!”. I tell them they’re clever and beautiful constantly. I sometimes wonder if I’m in danger of spoiling them or giving them big heads, but I realise that’s not possible. Not in this life where we are set to be filled with doubts. You can’t spoil a kid with love. So why don’t I give myself the same love? Why don’t I tell Sue to fuck right off?

We can all learn so much from our kids. When we are young we are so naturally great at so many things. They instinctively know how to eat and when they are full. They are naturally mindful. They are totally in the moment. They couldn’t give a shit if we’re late for a train, there’s a snail to look at NOW! THERE! They know exactly how to breathe. This sounds funny but it’s so true. Since having 2 babies in a year, my pelvic floor has needed…..work. To try and sort it out I’ve been going to exercise classes especially for postnatal women. A lot of it is quite technical and all to do with breathing. It’s so interesting. It’s about how we need to retrain ourselves to breath properly and exhale on effort. To stop holding and tensing all the time. Kids naturally just know how to do this. We gradually get it beaten out of us as we get older, habits we create. Women are so used to holding in their tummies we have to retrain ourselves to hold ourselves naturally and normally again in many cases. It’s a really sad thought. Kids naturally breathe and move the way we should, and I’m retraining myself to be like them now. It’s an amazing thing.

So, my lesson today is to be BE MORE DAISY! Not the tantrums over whether we can watch Paw Patrol before pre school part, or the fury over the sandwiches cut the wrong way, or the refusal to go to bed or tidy up bit….you can forget all that….but in the way she talks to herself. In the way she sees herself. And I need to talk to myself the way I talk to my girls. Remind myself I’m beautiful. Remind myself I’m clever. Remind myself I CAN do shit. Because that’s the first step in actually doing it and believing it, even if at first I don’t quite believe it. Because in the same way negative thoughts can become the truth, so can positive ones.

I’ll leave you with the thing Daisy said next. I was delighted with what she said about her fat beautiful tummy, but as her mum my next thought was “it’s not just your tummy that’s beautiful, it’s all of you!”…so I said to her “that’s true! And do you know what else is beautiful, Daisy?”. Quick as a flash she answered “Yep! ME!” Damn right Daisy, damn right. #BeMoreDaisy

Sally Bunkham is the founder of Mum's Back, luxury new mum hampers focussing on the yummy stuff denied in pregnancy. £1 from every hamper goes to PANDAS Foundation.

“Take Your Fancy Flowers, Fluffy Animals, Intrusive Photoshoot and Leave Me The F*ck Alone” – How Hounded New Mothers Really Feel , guest post by Denise Marshall

Before I had my first son I knew nothing about babies. I adored them, and never missed an episode of One Born Every Minute, but one thing I wasn’t under any illusion about was that taking a little human being home so soon after birth, without much chance to recover, isn’t easy. I won’t bore you with the birth story, but it was a bit grisly. In the hospital ward I was
deliriously happy, but two days later with gaping stitches, and a failure to get my little one to latch, I was struggling.

But the hardest, most unnecessary part, was the mounting pressure to welcome all family members and close friends immediately, so they could take lots of pictures and make comments that made me want to sear them with my own eyes. “The pain just melts away doesn’t it…” And “oh you look soooo tired.” If I’d only said, “look people this is the thing; I've had my vagina cut open. I can’t sit down so that’s why I’m perching on my folded right leg. I can’t walk very far. I need to be topless at the drop of a hat to try and improve my baby's latch because my raw nipples are really not working right now. So basically I need to be naked. And I feel faint because I am literally not sleeping, at all. So funnily enough I don't want my cousin's gormless boyfriend in my front room because he's ‘sort of family’.”

But I didn’t, because very quickly I realised in the hysteria that comes with the first baby in the family for decades, no one was that interested, so I just muddled through, enduring severe social media harassment. “When can I come for a cuddle? When can I visit? Oooh I've got a day off (the implication that you are doing nothing), so I can come over…” What and take even more snaps of my baby and grab him from my arms once again? Yippee!” And so it continued, over and over.

And I’m not the only one that felt a burning need for space.
“Why do you get up off the sofa so weirdly?” asked one friend’s sister-in- law after her C-section. A particularly patronising observation is; “you don’t seem yourself…” No shit!

Today in the doctor’s surgery, the fatigued mother of a three-week- old croaked, “she never sleeps at night. I didn’t realise you could be this tired.”
“And everyone wants a piece of you,” I sympathised. “They just don’t understand,” she sighed.

Another irritating part of the situation is being questioned about the labour by people who don’t really want an answer. The mere mention of my Ventouse delivery was greeted by; “oh that’s when it’s sucked out,” and howls of laughter.

Often, the trouble with our generation is the one before. Our mothers healed in hospital for up to a fortnight after birth. Visitors were limited so they got all day to bond with their bundles, got their laundry done, food served and lessons in how to bath tiny humans. They even had their offspring wheeled off into a nursery each evening so they could get plenty of kip. But in today’s NHS stretched world, unless you’re on deaths door, mums are lucky to get a cup of tea before being slung out of their stirrups.

I heard of one poor mum that even had a nervous breakdown because relatives popped in every single day for six weeks. But apparently they still didn’t get why.

A few months later while fidgeting on the sofa with nagging episiotomy ache, comedian Shappi Khorsandi came on the television and made a joke about the post birth bubble feeling like someone has taken to your genitals with an axe. I snorted. She immediately became my favourite stand up, one of the few women in the public eye admitting her first stroll with the pram had been a painful shuffle.

With baby number two everyone backed off, terrified too many texts would tip me over the edge. It was heaven. Complete no pressure bonding. Bit by bit, supportive callers were summoned. Not when it was convenient for them, but when it was right for our new family of four.

So don’t feel swamped by the impending stampede to secure a time slot. Over-excitement clouds judgement, but a newborn comes first, and then you do, because you’re the mother goddammit. And if your motherly instinct in the early days is that everyone bugger off, then so be it.

By Denise Marshall

Denise is a former senior editor on the Daily Express Saturday magazine, now a freelance journalist and content creator specialising in celebrity, parenting and travel. She is mum to Hayden, six and three-year-old Finley. Follow her over at Twitter, she is @nisecmarshall

Mum's Back provide new mum gifts full of the luxury stuff they've been denied throughout pregnancy. £1 from every hamper goes to PANDAS Foundation.

If you are on Instagram and follow me (it's instagram.com/mumsback come on over if you don’t!) you will know that I recently ran a competition with the fabulous and beautiful Mia from @cigarettesandcalpol, to win one of our new mum gifts. As soon as I saw Mia’s page I knew we were gonna get on….I mean, the name gave it away from the off, and she sent me a really sweet DM saying she loved the concept of what Mum’s Back are all about, which gave me a very nice warm fuzzy feeling. We hit it off and decided to do a give away for her followers. The question we asked to enter the comp was the title of this blog….”what did you miss most during pregnancy?”. The answers were incredible, very funny and varied. We are led to believe in the images we see in the media and on places like instagram that pregnancy is a beautiful, magical and romantic time. It CAN be, sure! But also, we go through quite a lot don't we? And we MISS an awful lot too. I decided to compile my favourites answers for you. Here they are! Enjoy

“Reaching my ankles”

“Not farting like a trooper every 5 minutes”

“Gin & Tonic, my regular clothes, going on girly boozy nights out and not peeing 5 times a night”

“My dignity”

“Shaving my foof by myself! My boyfriend did it for me once when I was about 38 weeks pregnant and it was 10000% the worst decision I’ve ever made”

“Pate and brie. Even though I eat them rarely anyway, not being advised to eat them made me want them more!!”

“I missed a cold pint of San Miguel in the pub with my husband and going longer than 10 minutes without needing a wee”

“I missed laughing and sneezing without a little bit of pee coming out”

“Chocolate as I was sick every time I ate it. I eat so much chocolate so what a bloody pain in the arse that was”

“Sleeping on my tummy”

“The ability to eat without dying of heartburn for the rest of the day/night/my life”

“Seeing my vagina and medium/rare steak with a glass of merlot”

“Having ankles”

“Random people not asking me what genitals I was harbouring”

“Being able to walk properly without looking like a penguin”

“Caffeine. And being able to poo”

“Lying on my back”

“High waisted jeans”

“Being able to do anything without vomiting”

“Prosecco. Oh god I missed Prosecco”

“Antihistamines. Both pregnancies fell over summers with crazy high pollen counts”

“I missed being able to put my own socks on. If I didn’t get my husband to do it before he left for work it had to be bare feet all day”

“People asking me ‘are you sure it’s not twins?’ ALL the time”

“I missed not being able to fit in the shower properly”

“Having normal dreams. I’d wake up after what felt like hours of debauchery fuelled by pregnancy hormones. I wasn’t able to look local shop staff, my children’s teachers or even my local doctor in the eye without blushing, remembering what had happened in my dream the night before”

So…I think what we can establish from this is that pregnancy…..beautiful and miraculous and amazing as it is…is also quite hard work. We sacrifice a fair old amount for those gorgeous kids of ours, don’t we? I think we all deserve some recognition for this, and ideally a little treat to say well done. I think we all know what I’ll suggest for the treat, *ahem”….a new mum hamper from yours truly perhaps? You know it makes sense 🙂

As the founder of mumsback.com, Mother's Day is very much on my mind at the moment. In the run up I think back to Mother’s Days past and I realise they can be a little like Valentine’s Day or Christmas, in that there’s so much societal pressure to have the “perfect” day that actually we can end up having the opposite.

I’ve written a couple of blogs about what do when your baby doesn’t get the memo about Mother’s Day, and also about what I think the components are to the perfect Mother's Day gift, but I also decided to ask others about their experiences.

Here is a run down of others’ best and worst Mother’s Days…or a mixture of the two!

‘Best and worst in one- my 6 year old cooked me scrambled egg on toast for breakfast. I slurped up every bite, even using the toast to scrape up every last smudge of egg. When she came back to take the empty plate I said, ‘That was so delicious. And you know what was most impressive – that you washed up a plate. I left them all dirty last night.’ ‘Oh no, mummy,’ she replies, ‘the dogs licked it clean for you.’” – Ruthanne Garrett

“Last year was my first Mother’s Day and it was a bit of a let down. Kiddo had officially come to live with us from his foster carer only 3 weeks before, and we’d only met him 2 weeks before that, and even just being parents suddenly was all still a bit weird! We went to a pub we’ve been to for an excellent Sunday lunch before but of course we were all shoved in like sardines to squeeze every last booking/penny out of the day and the food was absolutely awful. My free pudding was totally inedible. Truth be told I felt like a massive fraud who wasn’t *really* a mum and the whole thing ended up being a bit depressing! Kiddo didn’t understand what it was or what we were doing and the change of routine so early on left him out of sorts all afternoon.  I don’t think we’ll be going out this year! Except maybe for McDonald’s breakfast because fuck it, that’s what I like and if it’s meant to be a day for me then I’m getting some hash browns” – Anon

“Last year was my first Mother’s Day and I’m a single parent. I wasn’t really expecting much but at least from my mum a nice ‘Happy Mother’s day’ would’ve been nice. Instead she said I’m a mum now and shouldn’t trouble myself with silliness. Got her a spa deal and scarf and while I don’t need this reciprocated, it was mean spirited of her.” Anon

“Haven't had too many as a mum of a 2 yr old but I am already feeling stressed about having to see my mum, the mother in law as well as feeling like its a day for me to perhaps be treated a bit!” Anon

“The one where everyone forgot. It probably didn't help that I'd spent the day cooking for my lovely mother in law (who did bring me flowers!) or that it was my first Mother's Day with my fourth baby (hubby is usually über thoughtful so I spent all day expecting a bit of a surprise!). Anyway that evening when no surprise was forthcoming I admit I threw a bit of a childish strop, bought my own wine and chocolates and flat out refused to share 🤣 To add insult to injury my eldest came back from uni a week later and tried to pass off my birthday card as a Mother's Day/birthday combo having missed both dates anyway.” – Anon

“My worst was when both kids and I had a stomach bug. We spent ages in out of hours getting them checked out for dehydration (false alarm, as it turned out) while I tried not to throw up in the nearest bin” Laura Poole

“My worst mothers day was my first one. My baby was about 6 months old, the whole day was pretty cheap because he had a stomach bug and was throwing up all over me since he wanted to be held because he was feeling so crummy. Around 6pm I asked my husband if he remembered what day it was, and he said “oh shit, I better call my mum. Thanks for reminding me”. Never once even said happy mothers day to me!” Anon

“I am going to share a great Mother's Day. My 1st Mother's Day was beautiful. Baby was maybe 3 months old. My husband enlisted the help of my sister to watch baby so I could sleep in, while he both stayed up late and got up early to make me (my favourite) vegan cinnamon rolls from scratch; it's a big job. As well as a lovely arrangement of flowers and a card from him and baby (complete with an inked footprint he somehow managed to get from our squirmy babe). I had a relaxed day at home where he took care of more than usual. Then my mum and grandmother came over for the afternoon so we could celebrate them as well. The only downside was that he set the bar so high, meaning I had my work cut out for me for Father's Day!” Risa Dietz-Kimmons

“This!! (see below) Husband thought would be a great idea to get a personalised t-shirt with the ugliest picture of what was a gorgeous little baby! Not to mention 2 sizes too small. It was so bad that even the boy was scared of it!”  Marina Chenery

“I think my favourite mother's days were the ones when my son was little and would buy me a box of chocolates and then “help” me eat them! My worst, realising after my aunt died a few years ago, I no longer had anyone to give mother's Day cards and gifts to, because the last of my surrogate mothers was gone. It's sad not to be a daughter. (Sorry Dad, but that a different thing!)” – Becky Moore

“My best Mother’s Day would be a memory from childhood and celebrating my own mum on Mother's Day. I distinctly remember her reading precious words about how much she meant to us in a card and bursting out crying. We gave her chocolates and flowers too. It's never left me. The worst would have been my first Mother's Day. I was suffering a traumatic birth and remember feeling like a failure”  – Vicki Psarias, Honest Mum.

Sally Bunkham is the founder of Mum’s Back, who provide luxury new mum gifts, focussing on the yummy stuff denied in pregnancy. £1 from every hamper goes to PANDAS Foundation. Mum’s Back currently have a Mother’s Day offer, where every single hamper ordered between now and Mothering Sunday (11^th March) will receive a Raspberry & Prosecco Lip Balm in Rose Gold Box (worth £7.95) FREE (see below). Delivery (to mainland UK) is also FREE.

That time of year is coming round again where thoughts are drawn to Mother’s Day and what the hell to get the mum in our life. Of course, being the purveyor of hamper gifts for mums, I am of the opinion that mothers should be celebrated every damn day of the year, but I do get the trickiness Mother’s Day brings. After all, I am a daughter and have the same quandary myself when trying to find the perfect gift for my own mum. Here’s a little run down on what I think makes the perfect gift (and no, I’m not going to tell you to just purchase a Mum’s Back hamper, I promise)

Something that recognises her as a person not just as a mum

I started mumsback.com because the new mum gifts I received when I became a mum were all either very baby focussed (and lovely! Don’t get me wrong!) or very “mum” orientated. It was like people expected me to be a totally different person now I had procreated. Yes I’d had a baby, but it didn’t mean I must now enjoy floral patterns, lavender bubble bath and muslin squares. It was at that point I was really confused about my identity, and who the hell I was now supposed to be. What would have been fab was a little something for me that recognised me AS still ME (if that makes sense?!). It would have been fab if someone had come round and gone, “here you go Sal, I know you like The Chemical Brothers, so I got you their new album…well done for getting through childbirth!”. But understandably, no one did, because it’s not really the done thing.

I see Mother’s Day as a similar kind of thing. We are under societal pressure to get something “mumsy” on Mother’s Day, like breakfast in bed, or a bunch of flowers, or a massage in a spa. Now if you know she’s the kind of person to love that kind of thing, then GREAT, go for your life. But if she’s the sort who’d rather, for example,  have tickets to go and see The Sleaford Mods….or learn to brew her own beer, then for god’s sake get her that!

Her version of indulgence

People have different ideas on what luxury means to them. For some it could be a 3 course dinner at The Ritz. For others it’s the opportunity to have an hour’s peace walking in the country. Some may just want to scoff their face with gin and cheese (no prizes for guessing which category I fall into!). Maybe she just wants some time being HER again, not just a mum (often the case for new mums deep in the thick of those unrelenting early days of parenting I’d say!)? The point is to understand what makes her tick and try and deliver her version of luxury, not the textbook branded version of what luxury on Mother’s Day means.

Bought with heart

We all know we can get some pretty good shizzle from the big brands and from Amazon Prime…and all incredibly quickly too. Maybe even the night before! BUT….it can feel a little….soulless. A gift from an independent seller feels so much more special. It’s obvious when things have been hand packaged or curated by an individual. Even better if you can get a gift with some kind of social or charitable aim behind it. Of course at this point I will mention that £1 from every hamper from mumsback.com goes to PANDAS Foundation, but I’m not making this point because of that. I do that because I had a bad time with PND and now I want my business to do something to help others going through something similar. It shows the real heart, soul and story behind the brand, and I’m sure it’s the same with many other retailers that do a similar thing. It feels great to receive a gift that you know is doing good in the world.

Time Together

Of course gifts are lovely, but what gifts can’t give is actual quality time together. So whatever gift you choose, make sure you take time out to actually spend with her. Even if it’s just extra time on the phone, or a lunch out, or a weekend visit. There’s no better way to celebrate the love of motherhood than by actually being with her.

Of course I believe a Mum’s Back hamper fits the brief of the perfect Mother’s Day gift. We are all about the lady, not just the mum. We are about luxury and indulgence (so if basically if the mum in question loves a tipple, chocolate, prosecco and cheese you’re onto a winner with us). Mum’s Back is a small independent business, and supports other small independent businesses via our suppliers. At the very heart of our business is our social aim to raise more awareness of perinatal mental health issues and £1 from every hamper goes to support the brilliant charity PANDAS Foundation. But whatever gift you buy, take a step back and think about HER, not just the concept of Mother’s Day and what we all *think* it should entail.  

It would be rude not to tell you that we are currently running an offer for Mother’s Day. Every mum gift hamper you order between now and Mother’s Day will include a Raspberry and Prosecco Lip Balm in a Rose Gold gift box absolutely FREE (as pictured below). Delivery is always free (to mainland UK).

You can pre order now for the big day now (just let me know when you’d like it delivered when prompted). Have a fabulous Mother’s Day everyone!

….Michelle Yardley-Eldred! Woop woop ! Well done Michelle, you have won our classic hamper 😉

Michelle was nominated by her fabulous pal Pam Champion. Here is a picture of Michelle and her beautiful daughter, Amelia (7)