Baby Tears

Back in 2008 a project I started in 1997 finally made it's way from my heart to paper.
I book called 'Baby Tears'.
I wanted people to know. I wanted other women to know what it was really like to have Ante and Post Natal Depression. Everything I had read to date had made me feel like I was a monster. I didn't feel like these other women felt. I didn't feel sad and have moments of being unorganised. I was dead inside. I was trapped in a living nightmare that everyone else seemed delighted for me to be in. Motherhood. 
I thought over and over about the night I sat in a bath with a knife trying to get the nerve to kill myself. And I thought about that one woman out there who maybe felt like I did. And I wanted her to know that it was OK. She was not a monster any more than I was. That she was not alone. 

And so I wrote this book. I sent it to a publishing agent. Who said hey love it, but we want you to change this, this and this... basically they wanted me to write the books I had already read. That I was a little teary. 
Let me think about it. How about ... NO.

So with the help of my beloved husband Grant and my dearest friend Mish, I self published my book.
It sold a few copies. The State Library of Victoria liked it enough to buy one for circulation. (super proud author moment) But I was still afraid of it. Still afraid of taking my book and getting it out into the world where it would really help.
I said that all I wanted was to help one woman. If one woman got help and was helped by my book then I was happy. And I was. I had people tell me that they finally understood their daughter/daughter in law/ granddaughter/wife. I had one woman tell me that I saved her life. 

Since then I have watched the news, listened to women talk and found myself wondering if I had the strength yet to take my book out of it's protective shell and send it out into the world. Women still need to know they are not alone and not monsters. Family members need to know how to help. Dr's and nurses and midwives need to know that sometimes the feelings go way deeper than what is being said.
So this year. I thought I might revisit Baby Tears.
It needs a big editing overhaul. But I have the knowledge now to do that. Maybe that was why I studied editing and proof reading. For this day. 
This year I want to polish and revamp my book and bring it out of the shadows and into the world.
Here is an excerpt from the first printing. I would love to know your thoughts.


Onwards and Upwards
Georgia.


Wednesday, 5th February 1997
3:15am
I have a son. A beautiful baby boy weighing 7lb 6oz (in the old scale) or3350gm. 
He is the most amazing thing I have ever seen.
I cannot believe this little human being in my arms began as little more than a blood clot, I am in awe.
I am in awe.
But I do not feel love for this little miracle. 
I feel indifference, less then nothing. 
I am amazed at him and study him like a scientist studying an organism under a microscope. 
No love or attachment, merely clinical curiosity.
I watch my parents rapture with their first grand child. 
My Grandfather with the great-grandchild he thought he would never live to see is a ‘Kodak moment’.

But Ethan is not my son. I feel no ownership. No sense of belonging. No joy. Not even a slight softening of the heart when I look at him. Just an ever-increasing sense of obligation. 
Then the tears started. There is something wrong with me. But I am afraid and ashamed. 
Ashamed because I have a beautiful healthy baby and how many women do not even have that? 
Afraid that everyone can see my inadequacies, I don’t even know how to pick him up out of his crib.
I am too ashamed to tell anyone that I am not feeling the joy that they are feeling. 
Afraid because not only do I not know how to care for my baby, I don’t even particularly want to. 

During my pregnancy I had asked people how would I know what to do and when to do it? They all smiled benignly and said, “oh you’ll know”.
But I don’t!
I am just not maternal and the nurses, without even a backward glance, have left me to it. 
I don’t even know what the ‘it’ is I am supposed to do.
I guess their paperwork is more important then making sure I am O.K.

During the night I think Ethan is looking a little more jaundiced then when he was born. I see that thought as a ray of hope and ring for the nurse. 
Deep down inside I want her to look at me, to see into my heart and recognise how I feel and make me better. Or maybe Ethan is more jaundiced and she will take him away and I won’t have to deal with him.
I feel so torn.
I would be crushed by the weight of my guilt if something happened to Ethan and he died. 
Crushed by the knowledge that I was glad he was gone because I could not bear to have him near me. 
But by the same token I would be crushed he was gone before I could learn to love him.

The nurse comes and barely looks at me, takes Ethan away to check him and I feel the tears stinging my eyes. I want so much for someone to talk to, but the nurse is busy and it is too late to call anyone. 
What would I say anyway?
So I look out of the window, crying, alone and lonely. 
I had hoped and prayed that all the fears and doubts I had during my pregnancy would just disappear at the sight of my son.

New post over on Some Things Just Have To Be Said.

Trials and tribulations of a school Mum

Yesterday Me Beloved and I had a heated discussion with our Miss 9's teacher over her changing two words of a poem our girl was to read as part of the ANZAC ceremony.
Our argument was that A: it is copyright protected so what right did she have to change it. B: she was asking or daughter to also breach copyright and therefore teaching her to have no respect for other people's work and the law.
I will leave out the argument over religion because this was never about that, although it did offend me that it is ok to not mention God so as not to offend non Christians but Christians are ok to offend.

No one was ever going to win this one. 

 

Read the full post here.

http://somethingsjusthavetobesaid.blogspot.com.au/2014/04/trials-and-tribulations-of-school-mum.html

The crazies in my head

My mind never stops.
There is always some project or mad idea swirling around in there.
Something I want to try, something I want to make, something I want to say.
It is very rarely silent.
I used to worry that I had schizophrenia because there was so much going on in there. Each idea had its own personality and voice. But once my Dr stopped laughing and explained to me what schizophrenia actually was, I don't worry so much anymore. Now I just think I might be a little bit crazy. Not rubber stamp me, lock me away for my own and others people's safety sort of crazy. Just a little left of mainstream normal, sort of a fringe dweller of crazy normal.

Thought I would share with you some of my crazy.
I want wings. I have always wanted wings. I can feel exactly where they would come out on my back, coz it is always itchy on that spot.
Some days I can feel my wings rising up to wrap around me, to wrap around others, to give added oomph to my day.
So I made a set of wings.
3 metres tip to tip.
I made them out of paper. By hand cutting around 800 feathers ranging in size from 1 metre to 10 cm in length.
I had no idea how they would work. I only knew I needed to make myself a pair of wings.

 close up of the feathers

As I made them other people became interested in them. Seems everyone secretly or not so secretly wants wings. People's reactions to them were really interesting. Many positioned themselves in front of the wings and had their picture taken so it looked like they had wings.
I printed the feathers with the words Faith, Hope and Love. I was asked repeatedly why those words. So I wrote the following. I don't like the word poem, but I can't quite bring myself to call it prose either. So I wrote 'the following' to go with the wings.

WINGS

Faith, Hope and Love

are the wings we all wear but do not see.

They help us to soar,

experiencing the exhilaration of all life has to offer.

In moments of sorrow, pain or confusion

they wrap around us, nurturing us until

we can again take flight.

We can wrap our wings around others,

lending them our strength

until they find their own again.

Everyone needs Faith, Hope and Love.

It is the core being of who we are,

no matter what Spiritual or Religious belief you hold.

Faith, Hope and Love define us,

guide us and protect us.

Our wings are made of individual feathers,

so that when we lose one the other can maintain us

until a new feather grows in.

We are designed this way because when we lose a little Faith,

Hope and Love will keep us afloat

until our Faith feather grows back in.

Same for Hope and Love,

they will be sustained by the other two

until we are whole again.

So spread your wings flex them and arch them,

show the world,

show yourself,

you are MAGNIFICENT

You were born to fly on the wings of your

Faith, Hope and Love

By Georgia Brain

(Copyright 2013)

this is them from a distance on our lounge room wall.

I entered them into an art exhibition. I had never entered anything in anything before so I was nervous because to my crazy head I was not an artist. I was just someone with a mad idea. I won people's choice. I was so stunned. There was some amazing work in that exhibition. Work I could never in my life create. But the people seemed to connect with my wings. I guess everyone has a little angel inside them trying to get out.

For another exhibition 10 mannequins were given to artists of various mediums to turn into 'the perfect man'. They were to be auctioned off at the exhibition to raise money and awareness for a vital cause Impact for Women. An organisation that helps women fleeing domestic violence.

I didn't think I was good enough to make anything but thought seeking further information about the project couldn't hurt.

I came home with a mannequin named Harry. Harry and I talked and bonded as I ran my hands over his perfectly formed torso. He wanted to be Henry. He felt like a Henry. So he underwent a name change.

My family are wonderful. They love an adventure and accept my craziness as normal and did not mind the plastic man in the bath tub (he needed a bath) or when he then took over the dining table for a month or more.

I wanted Henry to be my perfect man. So given my love of buttons (almost a fetish... but not quite. I do have some self control around them) I knew Henry needed to be made of buttons. I also wanted to show what a perfect man is to me. 

So I used Proverbs 22:6 'Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.'

To me this was telling us that if like a sapling we train a tree and give it good roots and nourishment the tree will stand strong and steadfast and a be a shelter and source of life, just like a perfect man. And so from a plastic torso to a mannequin with personality and life Henry was created.

Whilst making Henry I began to think about mosaic art. How cool would it be to mosaic a guitar? I had seen plenty of them on Pinterest. I had a friend pick up a guitar for me off hard rubbish, it was banged up and the back was off. Perfect.

So I gave it some thought. I could go the traditional route... but that's not really me. Also it is a guitar. It should be mosaic-ed in a manner that best represents it. Plectrums.

So I sourced 535 plectrums and a set of tuners (can't recall what they are called... the things that your tighten the strings) plus a bunch of G strings (because it amused me) and I set to work.

I named her Arabesque, Bessie for short. Because I wanted her to be beautifully ornate.

I am happy with how she came out. I have plans already for the next one. hee hee hee.
But this is just some of the stuff that goes through my head on a creating level. Then there is the writing.
I have been slowly plugging away at a book for a few years now. I am afraid of it, well bits of it. But I will get there and I will post excerpts of it here from time to time.
But for now.
Rock On
love
Georgia

New Post on The Sexual Side of Life

Excerpt from A lover's view of oral sex.

The porn film industry has a lot to answer for. People’s ideas of sex and sexual acts have been turned from intimacy between loving couples to something cheap and over exaggerated.

Read the full post on The Sexual Side of Life blog. click on the blog link.

New Post on Some Things Just Have To Be Said

excerpt from Shopping Centres should have the same rules as on the road.

You know what drives me mad?
When you are trying to navigate your way around a shopping centre or supermarket and people just cut across in front of you or stop without warning. Seriously It drives me mad.

Women with prams seem to think they own the place and can push that thing where they want and how they want and too bad if they run into you, coz they are the bigger 'vehicle' and so have automatic right of way.
Ahhh... yeah... no you don't.
I believe if the same rules for driving applied to pedestrian traffic through a shopping centre then it would be so much easier (for me).

Click on the link down the side to go to the blog.