The story of my children

Read Time:5 Minute, 35 Second

By Sara-Jane Morphew

I’m sitting here now thinking where do I start. Where do I start with my boys, let’s start with right now…

My son is sitting the other side of the room in a teddy bear onesie that now smells of sick and poo. Poo in our house is a familiar smell (this will become clear in due course) but today we also have the faint aroma of vomit. He has caught the sickness bug that I had earlier in the week, bugger! This means a day of me chasing him with a bucket as he won’t be sick, he likes to hold it in, he doesn’t like to let things out of body.

He is my William, my first born he arrived on 1st October 2011 at 12:19, I believe, weighing 9lb 14oz. I know big baby. He was 12 days late, he had to be smoked out and he was not budging. I remember being induced on the Thursday morning and he arrived on the Saturday! And he’s been that stubborn ever since. He caused some damage during his arrival into the world and I ended up in surgery being put back together under general anesthetic. When I came round all I remember is, first of all coughing, and then the overall need of a cup of tea!!

Anyway all was fine we got home eventually after persuading him to feed and we carried on with being parents. Looking back now I can see that yes I was probably suffering with post natal depression and should not have listened to those around me and gone to the doctor. I was being told that I was fine, I had the baby blues, I was tired. But I wasn’t. I think now I struggled to bond with William. The one moment that really sticks out in my mind is when I was feeding him sat on the sofa one day and my tears were hitting his cheeks and soaking his clothes. Not a good place to be. I struggled with William. He was a lazy feeder, he had reflux, eczema, he didn’t sleep, and he was my first. But he is my world he and his brother are the reason I am still here, the reason I am still battling every day.

William is 5 now and I can probably count on one hand the number of times he has done a ‘proper’ poo on the toilet. When I say proper poo I mean what most other people do, go to the toilet do a poo usually in a sausage shape. William holds his poo in, remember when I said he doesn’t like to let things out. He holds his poo in, he gets constipated, poo gets bigger, he holds it more… the vicious circle of Williams bowels. Before you think ‘have you tried this or have you tried that’. The answer is yes, yes we have actually tried everything. All the professionals have now run out of ideas and we are back to square one doing a tick chart with a play therapist. Basically until he can change his thought process and deal with the psychological issues around the toilet nothing is going to change. Out lives revolve around poo. They have done for 5 years but this should have stopped when he was around 3 maybe 4, oh but no, we are still going. I am just grateful that Henry decided to toilet train himself in a couple of weeks and poos happily on the toilet no fuss and bother. I never thought I would be so happy to hear the words ‘I need a poo mummy’.

As you can imagine it is highly frustrating and is a significant contributor to my depression and anxiety. I have failed to train my child to complete a fundamental bodily function. I have failed him, I have failed as his mummy, he is poorly because of me. It’s my fault he gets tummy aches, that he gets grumpy, that he holds it in. I made him constipated with his diet, his emotional state etc. I am learning that I can never know if any of this is true all I know is that this is how I feel sometimes, that’s OK but I am trying my best. I have a 5 year old, mostly happy, clever, funny, inquisitive, creative, mini me. He loves to be outdoors, climb trees, run , jump, paint, draw, watch his favourite programmes, watch films, eat pizza, fish fingers, chips, fruit, smoothies, he is a ‘normal’ child. All children are normal because all children are different. I once heard someone say something that really spoke to me ‘the only label a child should have is their name in their jumper’. Every single child has their own challenges, desires, wants, likes, dislikes, emotions, troubles, needs. Every child should be themselves! Sorry I will stop preaching now.

Oops apparently I fell asleep on the sofa with my poorly Williams legs on me. He is now just in his pants covered in a blanket sleeping, thank god. Feel bad for Henry though who is home from playgroup. Left to his own devises again. That kind of sums up Henry’s life so far, he has fitted into Williams life rather than William having to bend to the new baby. Henry came as a bit of a surprise. We made the decision to start trying for another baby not long after moving into our new house. Then I realised I was already pregnant, first try. We assumed it would take us the 6 months it took with William, but no, first time, much to Tim’s disappointment I’m sure.

Henry was easier, I was prepared this time. I ‘knew’ what I was doing, I knew what I wanted to do and how I wanted to do it. I had had the trial run, now I could do this one right! Henry slept, he had reflux but I could cope with it, he fed easily, he was a dream. We had a strong bond, I carried him a lot in a wrap as I had a handful of a toddler and didn’t want to buy a double buggy. It worked brilliantly. I could carry a Henry and potty train a William all at the same time. Super Mum. It was all going so well until it wasn’t. Until I was just doing too much, too many things. Just couldn’t keep it up. I kept struggling until I just snapped.