Adventures of a New Mum (who just happens to have diabetes)

I’m a genius! Not only do I have my own movie in production, “Sleepless in Adelaide” but have also penned my first song, “It’s your wet nappy and I’ll cry if I want to.”

As far from the heartburnt clutches of pregnancy as I can get, I’m in the thick of my first attempt at parenting. Swimming in unchartered waters they say? More like having lead weights strapped to my ankles and doggy paddling for life in a part of the ocean notorious for freak attacks by baby seals. Sound ridiculous? Welcome to my life…

Over the shock of her seven week prematurity, Skyla is finally home and everything is back to normal. Hold on, my laughter has nearly jiggled my post-pregnancy bottom off my seat!

Normal? That word has no application in my life, at least, not without redefinition… Don’t get me wrong, I adore being a mum and see it as both a gift and a privilege - I just ask that I remind myself of such testament at 3am when Skyla has regurgitated on me for the second time in ten minutes, a pungent aroma is wafting from her nappy (for the second time in ten minutes) and my nerves ping like a tightrope at any noise that sounds remotely like a crying baby.

Unfortunately for me, or my pinging nerves at any rate, we live in a new housing estate screeching with construction at all hours of the day and night. I say no more.

My nerves needn’t feel alone in their newly-assigned tension, my heart joins in with throbbing palpitations when well meaning people enquire about my inevitable change in lifestyle. I swear I am going to deck the next person who advises, “Sleep when the baby sleeps.” Talk about illuminating the obvious! Perhaps I will don my best poker face and reply that latest research suggests sleep is not recommended for new mothers as it counteracts the delusional, zombie-like state we strive for in our waking hours.

Despite my nine plus months of preparation, the changes in lifestyle have not been as big a shock as the slap-in-the-face reality that even a ‘glass half full’ attitude has done little to absorb my feeling of frailty. I assumed that my excitement and openness to ‘the new’ would neutralise the anticipated impact of sleep deprivation and associated adaptations. Wrong! No, it wasn’t naïve of me to expect that input would equal output; I just didn’t know that life with a baby is governed by a distinct and volatile formula. Perhaps there is a clinical definition for the formula, but I simply call it ‘organised chaos’.

Although some days I feel as though I’m regressing so far back I touch my past life, I am progressing and learning to own my new profession; mothering. It really does stand alone as a job that has no training manual, no induction, no buddy system – your first day holds every responsibility and no, you don’t get a lunch break unless you can butter, build and eat your sandwich with one hand. You what? Need to unwrap that muesli bar and shove it in your gob before you hypo-out? Pull the other one sunshine, none of that namby pamby stuff goes on here. I’m not sure if my dentist will be horrified or happy but my teeth are now quite efficient at gnawing through aluminium. Further to this, the beauty is that strengths you had no idea existed within you, rise to the surface. If not for Skyla’s initial twelve hour colic crying episodes, how would I have known that I have a talent for composing songs about any household item, waltzing, doing a BSL and loading the dishwasher simultaneously? The Wiggles eat your heart out! To the glee and gastronomic satisfaction of my dogs, my one-handed eating skills still require a little polish.

Onto the topic of my very own conversation starter, “No, it’s not a pedometer, camera phone or pager, it’s my pancreas on the outside of my body…” (God I love freaking people out!). My insulin pump has truly been my own personal higher power. Not that I extol its value every minute of the day, truth be known, some weeks I’ve forgotten to test my BSL for days and let the pump run dry, to be diligently alerted (reminded!) to refill with insulin. Um, thanks pump for, um, saving my life and all. Am I the only new mum with D who forgets to pay a little attention to her health? With or without D the initial days of motherhood must certainly be one of the most taxing times of a woman’s life. From the outset I knew pregnancy with D wasn’t going to be just a physical challenge. My mental and spiritual capabilities would probably be stretched, tested and scrutinized if not by well meaning others than by myself. I’ve learnt to support myself through rephrasing daily self talk (it’s not a ‘bad’ BSL just a ‘high’ BSL) and saying to myself “I’ve done my best”. It can’t be all bad; I managed to come away from my latest Endo appointment without twelve lashes. My endocrine system has been unexpectedly cooperative in adjusting to my post-pregnant state. Why do I feel an eerie sense of a bubble about to burst?

Pressure from work’s daily grind melted away eons ago, but the Universe’s uncanny vacuum effect (something taken away, something replaced) has given me a curious substitute.

Hightened emotion. Now there’s something I need more of. I cried and penciled two paragraphs into her baby book when rain fell onto my baby’s head for the first time. How am I going to be when she purses her lips to say, “Mama”? Aside from hoping that Kleenex are on special, I want to continue to treasure the random blissful moments that motherhood is bringing me. How will I explain D to her, I sometimes wonder? Guess that bridge is further upstream, but me being me, the binoculars are polished and ready.

For the time being, I must focus on simply living this strange and time-altered life I now have, and questions on D and sex (eeeekkkk!) will surely come in their own good time. Thank God for barley sugar (code for Mars Bars) and scribble paper or heaven forbid my daily routine. This week’s list gives ambitious instructions to shop for more green veggies, change the batteries in my pump, SMS anyone in my mobile contacts (an attempt at spontaneity) and start up Skyla’s education fund. Yep, it’s all go. What’s that noise? Oh! Um, thanks pump for, um, saving my life and all…