Day in the Life of a Sydney Stay at Home Mum

Even in winter we're at the beach

OK, so while I wait for the Institute of Teachers to approve my teacher status, I am wiling away the hours at home with my little one. It's a sweet reminder of what the first year of her life was like, and now that she's just turned two, a hell of a lot more fun. It's also a welcome reprieve from what was a hellish year of huge challenges and changes as I trained as a teacher. I am now done! And I have a long hot happy summer stretched out before me.

Don't Blame Mum

The last dress she ever wore

Another baby has died at the hands of her mother, the very person who is supposed to champion her rights above all else.

Why this keeps happening is anyone's guess, but it is an enduring feature of humankind, and our friends in the animal kingdom, that babies die, sometimes often, and often at the hands of their mum or dad.

The biggest cause in modern Australia is depression. The self loathing some mothers feel when they 'fail' to breastfeed or settle their babies is all consuming. The effects of sleep deprivation, a popular and very successful torture technique, combined with clinical depression can be toxic. I do not want to demonise mothers with depression or even try to imagine the horrific combination of factors that could push you over the edge.

What I want to do is mourn the loss of this little child's life, just a baby girl starting her life. Eighteen months is the most adorable age, when grandmothers come up to your little one in the street and say My Goodness, I just wish they'd stay like this forever! Their eyes sparkle with mischief, their little cheeks dimple and their fat rolls are irresistible as they skip ahead of you, tiny versions of their future selves.

This little eighteen month old was deliberately left by her mother to drown in the one place most toddlers adore, the bath. The image of her scrabbling for air, trying to get out, screaming and finally choking in the bathwater is deeply upsetting. She died alone in her own home. After her death, her little body was dressed in a christening gown and she lay next to her suicidal mother for two days before someone found them, or missed them.

It is this image that speaks to the core of what I am constantly concerned about: the isolation of mothers in our harried society and its lack of support for new mums. If they feel like there aren't a lot of options out there, it's because there honestly isn't.

Baby health centres, playgroups, local libraries, modern hospitals and highly regulated childcare centres are wonderful but many of them could be more accessible to mothers. For my baby's first six weeks, for example, I couldn't walk or drive to the shops so couldn't access my baby health nurse. She was also solidly booked weeks in advance. So I didn't find out my baby was losing weight steadily for two months until she ended up in emergency. Some of the reason she lost weight was my low milk supply, something I wasn't given information about because I did not have any lactation support. The complex list goes on.

Our one playgroup is 30 minutes away. There are no support groups, meals or anything to help a new mum without mobility, unlike the elderly. A lot of what is on offer is expensive. And many in our generation can forget about grandparents: our parents tend to be more interested in their next promotion or trip to Europe than their new grandchild.

It's not just lack of governmental and civic support for mums, it's also our cultural expectations on mums and our opinion that bearing children is a lifestyle choice, like being gay (ha ha ha), choosing solar or driving a BMW. We don't berate car accident victims that they shouldn't have bought a car. We don't even tell lung cancer victims they shouldn't have smoked, or diabetes sufferers they should lay off the sweets. So why we tell mothers they shouldn't have chosen to have children when they hit a rough patch is beyond me.

I think it's the old Women are to Blame acorn. Blame the ladies for men's collective inability to retain self control. Blame the rape victim's dress for the crime. Blame the mother who kills her baby for her isolation and untreated depression. "You chose to have kids, didn't you?" is the one thing most mothers really do not want to hear when they are in trouble.

Not to mention the glaring fact that about half of all babies are unplanned (for more, see contraception failure or heterosexual couples having spontaneous sex) so were not actually conscious decisions or choices. And of the babies that were planned, not all of their parents carefully planned on having a child with autism, with projectile vomiting that lasts for 3 months, who screams ten hours straight every day. No. Not many parents happily make a choice to sign up for that! It's a miracle more babies actually survive babyhood considering the raft of pressures on their new parents, and a glowing reflection on the stamina of parents that more are not relinquished to state care. 

So let's think carefully on what we're expecting of new parents and consider how we might as a society offer more support and relief to new parents and activities for young children.

Why Nice is the New Grey

PND caused by boring mums

I’m sitting in playgroup with a bunch of bored looking mums. Little Max is throwing cookies up in the air and Cooper’s crushing them under his toddler sneakers. My daughter runs into the fray grabbing for someone else’s treats.

“Oh your daughter's eating off the floor” says one mum to me “Oh, she does that all the time” I say flashing what I hope is a disarming and friendly smile. Everyone turns to look at my 18 month old licking crumbs off the ground. I roll my eyes internally at the constant pressure of judgement that came down on me like a grey UNHCR issue refugee blanket since I did the last thing I remember I wasn't judged for: had sex without a condom and deliberately conceived a child. The judgement is hard and fast. She's too cold, says a granny at the supermarket. She needs more fencing, says my neighbour as he watches her climbing our deck. Hungry, tired, too thin, too fat, no shoes, no manners, too loud, too immature, too cheap. And only just turned one year old.

A bit later on a mother I faintly know frumps in with her baby and two year old looking frayed at the edges. I haven’t seen her for two weeks and we discuss how she probably has PND, as did I at the six month stage, as would anyone who hasn’t slept more than four hours in six months.

She also confesses to not LOVING the whole baby stage, which I can more than relate to. Actually she says her husband wanted kids more than her, but now that they're here he's not really all that involved. It's a common story you hear. Babies are a LOT of work and an awful lot of guys understandably make themselves scarce, leaving their partners alone to mop up the milk, wee and tears.

Anyone who gets off being elbow deep in things I thought only S&M mistresses had to deal with has a conflict of interest. And all six month olds I've met fail to say thank you mum, thanks for changing and feeding me seven times a day and making sure my day is filled with an interesting age appropriate but not overstimulating variety of activities! Thank you for letting me take over your life like a virus!

It’s all just so boring sometimes, just the same drudgery, I console. She agrees. And it’s hard to find other mums who feel the same way, I say and she nods vigorously. “What are they all doing, pushing their kids in designer prams and sashaying from coffee date to manicure??” she cries.

“And they’re all so NIIICE” I say. “I KNOW! Is anyone around here not boring?” We sadly shake our heads at the nice but boring women surrounding us – at playgroup, the gym, the park, the beach, library story time and the shops. No wonder Jessica Rowe got depressed - and she had a two Nannies for the morning and the evening according to her latest book. So if even two nannies can't protect you from PND, what can? Ecstasy?

Babies are f-ed, I say. They wreck your lives and make once sexy women into yabbering zombies. The boredom and loneliness of early unsupported motherhood can wreak havoc with even the most upbeat mum's temperament. We both agree, then get back to pouring milk and solids down our respective children’s mouths.