Anxiety and panic-the baine of my life!!

Well, at the best of times I'm an anxious, panicky worrier! I worry about everything, and I mean everything!! The general pattern for me is i begin to worry, with worry sometimes comes a bit of paranoia which in turn leads to anxiety resulting in a panic attack. I know from the start that it's coming and I'm fully aware it's likely to end in a panic attack but there is nothing I can do to stop it or even ease it, it completely controls me and consumes my thoughts!!

I've decided to blog about my anxiety and panic attacks now because I'v had two particular instances this week that always trigger it for me. So I'll start at the beginning. This could possibly turn into a lengthy post, you have been warned!!


I have a fear of dentists. A huge fear of dentists. No reason why as far as I can think of, maybe it's fear of pain, I'm not sure. At my last check up I was told I would need a wisdom tooth extraction under a general anesthetic in hospital. The thought alone filled me with anxe. A few weeks after my routine dental check up my hospital appointment arrived for Monday 20th feb. I marked it in my diary and anxiously awaited the dreaded day. I tried to bury the thought in the back of my mind as though it may disappear. I obviously knew it wouldn't but in my mind it was the safest way of thinking. With the day approaching my anxiety started to grow. With each thought my heart would race, breath felt shallow and my palms would become sweaty. These were only mild panic attacks compared to most but they were panic attacks none the less and unpleasant to experience.

My second panicky situation this week came when I felt my throat was swelling. My sister is anaphylactic with no known cause as to why. Her first anaphylactic experience I was with her. It was one of the scariest days of my life watching her becoming so poorly so quickly and seeing the panic of the doctor as he tried to right the wrongs of the imbalance in her body to literally save her life. I felt that I'd terribly let her down as I walked out of the room and left her. I was petrified that if I stayed, I'd witness my sister dying infront of me, something I couldn't cope with. Since this day, to add to my list of fears I became terrified of allergic reactions, hence the fear that filled my body as I felt my throat become tighter. Deep down I thought it was swelling from illness, but none the less, to be on the safe side I felt the need to be in the hospital. The drive there felt like hours. I'd get all anxious and start thinking my airways were closing, sure I'd die while driving. My mind would run a million synarios, all negative and unhelpful. After a few minutes it would ease, not for long though. Throughout the journey my panic would reach an all time high, where I truly thought the worst. It would begin to ease, then build back up again. I knew, somewhere, deep deep down inside I was being silly, but at that height of panic I couldn't access the rational thoughts in my mind. It's so frustrating! Once at the hospital I began to feel relaxed. After all, in the highly unlikely event, if I did have an anaphylactic shock (which I never have had) I was in the right place to be saved.

After a while of being monitored and reassured the Dr told me my diagnosis, which was not an allergic reaction. Relieved, but also feeling silly I left the hospital.

When I got home I took my antibiotics that i had to start taking again and went to bed. I was exhausted and still felt very unwell, sore and achy. After a few hrs of rest my throat still felt like razor blades so I took co-codamol and and sucked on a throat lozenge. I drifted back to the land of nod while Darren took care of all the day to day tasks.

When I woke feeling much more refreshed I became a couch potato and cuddled up with Georgina on the sofa to watch some tele. While sitting there feeling not too bad I itched my neck. It felt as though I had a rash. I went and looked in the mirror and was sure I could see a nettle type rash on my neck. I asked Darren if my neck looked ok, knowing he was unaware that a rash was an allergic reaction symptom. He said 'looks like you have a nettle rash'. I explained that was a symptom. He looked at my tongue and confirmed it was swollen. My heart began racing faster then it ever had. My palms weren't moist, they were wet. This was it, I 'knew' I was going to turn anaphylactic any minute. I rung my mum who barely spoke, she just said ring and see a Dr, now! Darren rung and was told by the doctors receptionist that there were no available appointments for the day. He simply said she has a swollen tongue and nettle rash, she told Darren to bring me in immediately. It was a sudden rush to get all three children out of the door while feeling tight chested, swollen and itchy. Was this a panic attack or was this real? Am I having an allergic reaction? I was told at hospital I wasn't, was I going to look a complete fool turning up as an emergency at the doctors surgery last thing in the day to be told there is nothing wrong. I knew I had no choice but to be seen, but still, It was a possibility that I may walk away feeling I'd wasted everyone's time. I know panic attacks feel so real.
You are so so sure that it's a real feeling, stroke, heart attack, sickness, whatever it may be, in your mind you are sure! How was I meant to be sure I was having an allergic reaction?

I went in and explained everything to the Dr. He confirmed that yes I was having an allergic reaction. After some discussion, we came to the conclusion that this has been a slow build up, each time gradually becoming worse every time I took co-codamol. Although gutted that I was allergic to codeine based medications, I felt relieved that there was something there and I hadn't conjured it all up in my mind like the mental case I was concerned I was being. I was prescribed antihistamines and he advised that I don't take products containing codeine again. Frustratingly this leaves me with a very limited range of painkillers as I'm also allergic to anti-inflammatories.

I know in my mind that this leaves me with a constant future battle of anaphylactic paranoia and phobia. The Dr explained he has only ever had one anaphylactic lady patient (which i expect is actually my sister) in all his years of practice. He is near retirement age so has many years of practice behind him which reassures me. I am aware however that when my irrational thoughts come to trouble me again his reassuring words won't enter the equation and again, I will be sure that this time is the time and i'll be certain that I'm about to die.

Do as the doctors tell you!

I am writing this blog while sitting in Yeovil a&e.

Last Thursday I was told by my GP that I had tonsillitis and ear infections in both ears. I was in so much pain, it was the worst sore throat I've ever had not to mention the earache. I was given antibiotics and told to take two tablets four times a day until I had finished all the medication.
I started taking it immediately desperate for relief from the agonising pain. Paracetamol wasn't helping me at all and unfortunately I'm allergic to voterol which rules out anti-inflammatories like ibroprufen. A friend recommended co-codomol so I sent Darren on a wild goose chase to find some for me at 7am. None of our local supermarkets sold any so had to wait until 9am when the pharmacy opened. Luckily Darren bought me some and relief came quickly after taking them.

The pattern of medication continued for a couple of days. I felt like a walking medicine cabinet taking co-codomol, antibiotics and my usual daily medication for bipolar. Still, within 2/3 days I was feeling ok and back to normal again. It was lovely to be able to swallow again and felt more energetic. I stopped taking the painkillers and antibiotics, I was feeling fine now and therefore forgot to keep taking antibiotics so didn't finish the whole course of medication like I should.

The consequence of not finishing all of my tablets was waking up during the night last night to an agonising sore throat and ears again. I feel so poorly!! I went downstairs and took some co-codamol for the pain knowing how well it eased it last time. It helped but didn't make me feel comfortable enough to sleep much for the rest of the night.

As morning approached my throat was feeling worse as the small amount of relief from the painkillers wore off. It wasnt just the pain I was struggling with now but my throat was becoming more and more swollen. When Darren woke up I asked him to look and see how my throat looked. He said it looked swollen and weird. I was still able to breathe but not freely and I became anxious. I decided I'd drive to a&e to be seen as the doctors wouldn't open for another three hours and then I may not even get an appointment for this morning. I was concerned that during that time the swelling could get worse and make breathing even harder.

I'm now sat here still waiting to be seen by a dr in a&e. I've been here 2hrs now. I feel much more comfortable sat here waiting to be seen then sitting at home worrying while waiting for a GP appointment. I'm an anxious person anyway so waiting at home I'd probably have made myself worse in my head anyway, I'm a fruitcake like that!!

Hopefully I'll be seen soon but while I wait I've learnt a valuable lesson. Never stop taking antibiotics until you have finished the whole amount prescribed to you....

Our half term holidays!!!

Well, I don't think I'm alone in the thought of panic as half term approaches!! Just about every mum I know admits they dread school holidays. Not because they don't like spending time with their children, but because it can be very hard work. The days feel very long with the lack of school routine. Children bicker and argue over everything and anything. The cost of the things children most want to do, such as cinema, bowling, soft play etc cost as much as a small mortgage by the time the week is over!

February half term is one of the harder holidays. Generally the weather isn't great so getting out and about can be difficult. I'd decided this half term we would try and do something everyday. It didn't take long for our diary for the week to be chocka block!! The things we'd planned wouldn't cost alot of money. I don't have enough disposable income to overspend during holidays. So we made plans with friends to visit parks and do forest walks etc. Darren managed to pick up a virus or flu that had knocked him for six so it was lucky we had such a busy week planned as it left him alone at home to get better.

Monday 13th.
We made plans to go to moors valley for the day with friends. The children were very excited!!! Ethan didn't have any wellies that fitted so a quick trip to asda to buy a pair was needed. The cheapest pair were £5, bargain!!! We made up our picnic and in convoy with our friends we headed off.
When we got there it was lunch time so we had lunch at the car and then headed off round the play trail. All the kids had great fun and we took many pictures!!
Trying to keep the children awake on the way home was hard, but we managed it!!

Tuesday 14th.
Today was the day we had planned our IKEA trip with friends!! I was so excited!! I've never been to IKEA before so this was a new experience. I was nervous about the drive to Southampton but once we were on the road I was fine, the excitement took over!
We arrived at about 10am and headed straight for the cafe for breakfast. Lovely breakfast and so so cheap! 99p for 6 items, you can't go wrong. All the children ate and behaved so well. One lady even approached us to comment on how nice it was to see such well behaved children.
Once breakfast was finished we headed off round the shop. IKEA is huge!!! It took us hours looking round and adding to our trolley. The children enjoyed running round to find each play station that are randomly dotted around the store.
We had finished our shop so went to the tills and paid. I managed to buy so much for so little. The value was excellent.
Hungry bellies rumbled so back to the cheap cafe for lunch. Gorgeous meatballs filled the gap. We then loaded the cars and started the drive home.

Wednesday 15th.
Today our plans were to do a tour of some parks in Poole with friends. We left home fairly early and went straight to the first park. The children enjoyed playing with the park equipment and as this particular park is on the seafront they couldn't resist but to play in the sand. Georgina had to be the one to take her shoes off though. She ended up with wet, cold, sandy feet. Luckily I had spare clothes in the car, including socks.
We had our lunch at the harvester, yummy and good value to say the least.
With our tummies full we went to the next park. The kids loved it and we found it hard to keep a track of where they all were as they all went in different directions.

Thursday 16th
Today we were going to go to the new forest. Unfortunately illness decided to visit instead. I felt so so poorly. The worst I've felt before in my life. I assumed I'd caught what Darren had and headed back to bed. When I woke I had a feeling I had an ear infection in my left ear so Darren rang and got me an appointment at the doctors for later that day. Turns out I had ear infections in both ears and tonsillitis!! No wonder I felt rough. This put an abrupt end to the rest of our plans for the last of the holidays.
At least I know the children had a good first couple of days enjoying different activities. Hopefully I'll manage to stay fit and well throughout Easter holidays and we can have some more action packed holiday fun!!

Eczema

Anyone who knows me will know I can get terrible eczema from time to time. Recently I have had it fairly badly, and almost constantly. In the past 7/8 years the only times I’ve not really had eczema has been during my pregnancies. Certainly makes me think that maybe it’s hormonal, but who knows. I have had other very brief periods during the past few years where it has cleared for a while, but never for long. Eczema, for those who have never really suffered, it's itchy, can be painful and sore, weepy and very very dry. I've tried many lotions and potions, even tried acupuncture for a while, but nothing has really made much of a difference.

I have had eczema pretty much everywhere, except luckily not on my face or in my hair. My hands are generally the worst affected area for me. Here are two very recent photos;

This is very very sore, very dry and therefore itchy.

I went to my GP and was given some steroid cream. Unfortunately they were too infected for steroid cream to make much difference. The next evening I had to go to our local hospital as my hands and arms had become septic. This has been the most extreme I have had it for many years.

When my hands are like this it really affects my day to day life. Simple things that I never realised are so simple until my hands become this severe. Changing nappies are one of the worst things, along with bathing my own children. It does sadden me that I find these two particular things so hard as I thoroughly enjoy being a mum, but I feel it hinders my capability in a way. Washing up, cooking, dusting, bathing and washing my hair and hands are painful and/or make it worse. Cooking and dusting are painful. This is because of the movement; it makes the dry skin crack and bleed. Washing up (which I do with gloves on), bathing and washing my hair or hands make it a lot worse. There is no way round any of these day to day tasks, it’s just something you have to grin and bare.

When I was shopping for wedding dresses my eczema was particularly bad on my arms. I remember having to try and find dresses with sleeves or find a way to try and cover my arms as I didn’t want to have my eczema exposed for all to see on my special day. I wanted to have nice skin for one day!! I'm not embarrassed on the whole about the red, blotchy marks all over my skin, it never crosses my mind if people notice it or not these days. But there was a time that it bothered me, when I was younger and wanted to look good but didn’t feel I could with such ugly looking skin, I couldn’t care less now though.

I don’t know what causes my eczema. I'm not sure many people do really know what makes theirs flare up. I would like to know what triggers mine and makes it really bad, so I can avoid it or cut it out completely. I doubt I’ll ever know though.

I am aware that there are many worse skin diseases out there, but anybody who has ever experienced eczema would know how frustrating it can be. It's such a silly common thing but its one thing that really drives me bonkers.

If anybody knows of any good treatments for eczema or dry skin please please please shout it from the rooftops and tell all us blotchy, itchy dry skinned people!!! Thanks.

My Very Open, Very Frank Journey Through Mental Illness

This is something I haven't openly talked about with many people. Not because I'm ashamed, at the end of the day I am who I am and I can't change that, but because of the way people seem to judge mental illnesses. Don't get me wrong, people’s perceptions are improving. I think mainly due to the fact of more publicising of different areas of mental health. Postnatal depression is one of the more spoken about illnesses under the mental health umbrella, along with depression. To me depression has such a huge range of severity. I believe that the term 'depression' is used all too easily. Many people say how depressed they are feeling, yet they aren't at all depressed. Maybe they are feeling low or fed up, maybe having a bad day or week. We're all guilty of it, even myself, it just makes depression seem so unimportant and such a trivial illness, such as a common cold, when realistically it can be very very debilitating.

My journey started at 17. I'd left school at sixteen and began an apprenticeship in hairdressing. I'd always been a very confident, loud, outgoing person, probably too outspoken and very opinionated. When I started hairdressing I started in a town several miles away. I had to get the train at just gone 7am every morning to be there in time for the shop opening. This was the only train I was able to get as the next train would have meant id have been late for work. So during the cold, wet months of October I was catching the train in the dark, hanging around getting soaked through some mornings waiting for almost an hour before I could get into the salon. I'd then work a nine hour day with just one half hour break, then at the end of the day I'd again have to wait in the horrid dark weather awaiting my train home. Darren would then pick me up from the station at around 7.30pm. They were long hard days all for £300 a month. By the time I'd paid for my daily train I had very little money left and I began feeling fed up and uninterested in my course. I stuck at it but I began feeling more and more down. I began thinking very dark thoughts. It got to the point that every morning waiting for my train I contemplated jumping onto the tracks so I could just end everything. The overwhelming dark cloud became harder and harder to shift and slowly but surely the once confident, happy and social person I once was started to disappear. I dreaded waking up in the morning and all day just wanted to hibernate away from the world. Every night as I dropped off to sleep I hoped I wouldn't wake up in the morning. I had absolutely no reason to feel like this. I had a lovely boyfriend, family and friends and a good apprenticeship at a fantastic salon so I put it all down to tiredness from my long hours, after all, I had only ever been used to short days in school. I decided to plough on and thought id eventually get used to it, all the older apprentices seemed to cope and loved it, so one day I knew I would too. Until one day at work it suddenly all became too much and I broke down in uncontrollable tears. I left work half way through the day, got the next train home and went to the doctor. I knew the way I was feeling, the thoughts I was thinking weren't normal. I spoke to the Dr very openly about my thoughts of jumping in front of the trains, my hope for not waking in the morning and how fed up I felt. The Dr suggested I spend some time in hospital, to have medication under supervision until I was in a better frame of mind. I refused hospital but decided I would take medication and I was signed off for four weeks. I started to relax and almost immediately felt better, until nearer the end of my sick leave and the thought of going back to work filled me with dread. I decided it must be work making me feel like this, the long hours, tiredness etc so handed in my notice and never returned to hairdressing. I didn’t feel my tablets were helping at all so I stopped taking them, in my mind it was work that had made me feel like it anyway.

Things seemed better. I had lost a part of who I was, I was no longer let loose and fancy free but I thought maybe I was growing up. I had my low moments but nothing extreme springs to mind, until I was pregnant with Ethan, my first child. Again at the time I put it down to hormones, tiredness of pregnancy and maybe even a bit of fear of becoming a mum. I didn’t think dark thoughts like I had done during my last episode of depression so had no reason to think it was anything serious. My pregnancy went on and I carried on feeling 'low'. I did speak to my midwife about it and she thought maybe my iron levels had dropped and explained hormones play havoc with us during the end of pregnancy, so I carried on awaiting the delivery of my baby. I had a tough labour. I was induced on the Friday night and eventually on the Monday Ethan was born. I left hospital on the Wednesday and felt empty. I did love Ethan but I did struggle to like him. Again I found excuses as to why I was having such negative feelings. It was probably from a bad labour, tiredness and the struggle of breastfeeding. He wasn’t an easy baby as he suffered with colic, which any mother who has had a baby with colic would agree; it’s a hard few months waiting for them to grow out of it. I remember as though it was yesterday one day imparticular. Everything and I mean everything had me in tears. Some tears were shed for no apparent reason other than the need to cry. Perfectly normal for a new mum to cry lots don't get me wrong, but it dawned on me that day that this was more than just 'baby blues'. I didn't talk to anyone about it, kept it to myself just how awful I was feeling. I hoped it would pass and that I could put it down to all the other factors it could be, until Ethan was six weeks old. This was when we were due our six week check, like every new baby and mother has. As part of the check you have to fill out a questionnaire about emotions. I knew I had to answer truthfully. The health visitor added up my score and explained it looked like I was suffering with postnatal depression. I was already aware that I was, I just didn’t want to admit it. I was put on medication and told to go back to the doctors a few weeks later for a check-up. I never went back and I stopped taking my medication.

Skip forwards a while. All had been relatively ok. I gave birth to my healthy daughter Georgina. I'd had a great pregnancy and an amazing birth. I felt elated in the weeks to follow her arrival and was glad to have escaped post natal depression. When Georgina was a few months old we moved to Poole. I did feel lost and lonely once the initial excitement of our new home died down, that was natural wasn’t it?! Time passed and the feeling didn’t pass. Georgina turned 8months old and when a child turns 8months they have another routine check up with the health visitor. I'd not met our new health visitor yet. She seemed very nice and did the same questionnaire with me that I’d done at the mother/baby six week check. I was surprised when she told me that my results had indicated postnatal depression. I hadn't picked up that the lost lonely feeling wasn't just the anti climax from moving but was actually the start of depression again. I thought it was good that I’d be on medication early enough to stop me dropping to an awful darkness that I possibly could have done if it hadn’t come up with the health visitor. I started taking an antidepressant that I hadn't had before. I became happier and made new friends. I suddenly felt on top of the world. Life was perfect. I had a great husband, two gorgeous children, a lovely home and great new friends, what could be better?

The 'on top of the world' feeling did last a while but obviously wouldn’t last forever. After a while life was just normal life. Nothing amazing but nothing awful either. It felt good to be content at last. Numerous things changed in the coming months. We moved house, the children got older, we had Christmas, and life was passing by nicely. We found out we were expecting our third child and shortly after finding out we decided to move back to the area we had originally moved from. We found a house to move to. It wasn’t a great house in my opinion but still, it was a house in the area we wanted to live in so we moved. I was happy to be back but something didn't feel 'right'. I had an inkling that maybe depression was rearing its ugly head again but as normal I pushed the thought to the back of my head, after all, I was pregnant with two children to look after and so I ignored it. Until one Monday morning when it hit me and it hit me hard!!! Darren had gone to work early this particular morning while the children and I were still asleep. I woke up and immediately felt scared. I felt that the walls were closing in on me and felt enormous panic. I can’t describe the feeling but I felt what I assumed it felt like to be going mad. I got the kids up and dressed and had to get out of the house. It was still very early but I didn’t feel safe to drive. I'm not sure I’d have physically been able to drive even if I’d tried. I was shaking and didn’t feel in control of myself at all. We walked along to my parents’ house, a ten minute walk away. When we arrived they were still in bed, they are fairly early risers so it must have been very early that we showed up. I rang their house phone and said I was outside and asked that they'd come and unlock the door. The children went into the living room and started to watch the tele. I on the other hand stood in the kitchen and burst into tears. I don't remember greatly what happened; I just remember that my parents were worried. Mum rung Darren and told him that I wasn't well; he was unable to speak at the time and said he would ring very shortly. When Darren did ring back I’d calmed down a great deal and felt almost normal again. Mum took me to the dr that morning. The doctor agreed that I was depressed again but she said she felt she should refer me to the mental health team so I could have ongoing support for the rest of my pregnancy and in the early weeks of the postnatal period. I was put on antidepressants that were safe to take while pregnant and would also be safe for me to breastfeed while taking.

While waiting for my appointment to see the mental health team things went from bad to worse in my head. I felt suicidal. It was all I could think of. Everything I did I thought would it be possible to turn this into my death. As I’d have a bath I’d think of drowning myself so I didn’t have to put up with being in this world any longer. I'd walk along the road and think about getting hit by a lorry to be able to end my life. While I was cutting the vegetables I’d envisage myself cutting my wrists. Suicide consumed my thoughts. It was a hard place to be and if I’m completely honest, the only reason I didn’t follow through with any of my thoughts was purely because I knew if I ended my life I’d also be ending the life of the baby I was carrying inside of me. To end my life was one thing, but to end my babies life was a whole different thing and something I couldn’t do. I made my mind up that I just had to keep going until I had had the baby and then I could slip away and leave everybody to live their lives without me being in the way.

My appointment came through to see a member of the mental health team. I went to my appointment and spoke a bit about my past history with depression and my past in general. It was decided that maybe what I’d been experiencing was more than depression and that I should see a psychiatrist. To say I was worried would be an understatement. Mad people see psychiatrists; did she think I was mad?! My appointment to see the psychiatrist arrived. I remember nervously waiting in the waiting room worried that someone may see me and think I was crazy just for being in the mental health suite. Once in the room and talking I felt eased. It wasn’t as bad as I expected. She didn’t think I was mad or crazy which made me more comfortable. She did however feel I had bipolar disorder. This wasn’t a huge shock. I had discussed the possibility of bipolar with a Dr in Poole but shrugged it off at the time thinking I could deal with it alone, without medication. My recent experience however said otherwise. I was taken off the tablets my GP had prescribed and given a different antidepressant to take alongside an antipsychotic medication. Taking an antidepressant I could deal with, but antipsychotic...REALLY?? How embarrassing to have to go to my local pharmacy and collect this prescription. Still I knew I had to take these tablets, I didn’t like feeling the way I’d been feeling so had no other option. I was assured they were safe for pregnancy and breastfeeding so I started them that evening.

After a couple of weeks I did notice a difference in my mood. Only slightly, but slightly was better than nothing. I then gave birth to our 3rd child, Reggie. It really was a traumatic birth this time. I assumed from my experience before that a bad birth would result in depression, that's what had happened when I had Ethan, surely it would again. Luckily it didn’t seem to have much of an effect on my mental state. I had routinely booked an appointment with my psychiatrist for a few weeks after the birth to just talk over medication etc. While talking and actually taking the time to think about how id been feeling I realised I hadn’t actually been feeling too great. I hadn’t felt bad, just not particularly good either. We decided to alter my tablets now while I was still ok rather than waiting. The tablets that I was changed to meant I couldn’t breastfeed any longer. I was sad to have to stop feeding as I knew I wouldn’t be having anymore children so I knew I’d never feed again, which I felt gutted about. Some may say my decision was selfish, but in my eyes I had to put my mental health first in this instance.

My new medication so far has been brilliant. I so far I haven’t had any 'manic' episodes or any low moods. I don't think of suicide anymore and I'm sad that I ever have. I, like everybody else has good days and bad days but I don’t want the dark days that I once had. I have had periods of very elated mood. During which I sleep very little, if at all. I am busy busy busy and can’t stop. My mind races quicker then I can speak and I do have the typical tendencies of spending. Since my new medication I haven’t had this either so all in all things are looking good right now. I do have bipolar yes. I'm not ashamed. It doesn’t effect who I am as a friend, as a wife and certainly not as a mother!! I do sometimes need peoples understanding but I do not need their pity. I am who I am and I can’t change that, nor would I want to!!



Here is a link to the NHS website. It will take you straight to the page about bipolar if you want to read more about it.


http://www.nhs.uk/Conditions/Bipolar-disorder/Pages/Introduction.aspx

         HAPPINESS!!!!

So, these four people in this photo are the most important people in my life!!! I wouldn't be me without them and i couldn't be this happy if they weren't in my life!! My wonderful hubby Darren holding our newest addition Reggie with Ethan and Georgina either side of him. This is my most treasured photo in my life. To me it screams happiness, my sense of happiness at least!!

Wacky!!

Nothing like a change so thought I'd go for a HUGE change......pink and purple hair!!!
I absolutely love it!!! My friend Elaine did it and she isn't even a hairdresser!!! Maybe she should change vocation!!!

My backgroud story

Well this is all very new to me but after a few people suggested to me about blogging i thought id give it a go. I do however have one small request to anybody who may read this, that would be; please bare with me, i have NO idea what I'm doing!!!

I suppose a good place to start would be to explain about myself, my life and my family.

I class myself as a bog standard, normal girl (hence 'blog normal gal'). I grew up living in a small town in Dorset with my mum, dad and three siblings. I have two older sisters and a younger brother. We are a close family although my sisters and brother no longer live in the area. My parents still live in the house we grew up in, my eldest sister lives with her husband and three children in Cornwall. My older sister lives in London and my younger brother is in Bristol. I moved to Poole for three years but felt drawn back to the comforts and familiar surroundings of my home town.
I'm now 25 and have been married to my husband Darren (now 33) for 7years. Anybody able to do maths will see i married at the young age of 18. Unusual in this day and age for an 18year old girl to marry but i felt I'd met my soul mate and we decided to marry 2weeks after my 18th birthday. I don't think i will ever regret marrying at a young age, i still strongly believe I've married my soul mate and i still see us being married forever.

A few weeks after our first wedding anniversary we found out we were expecting our first child. It wasn't the most straight forward pregnancy and although i loved the thought that i was growing a tiny person in my tummy i found it hard to enjoy being pregnant. Looking back i think i was probably too young at 19 to be having a baby and this is why i struggled to enjoy being pregnant. We found out at our 20week scan that we were expecting a baby boy. I suffered with SPD (I'll blog about this another day in more detail) in my pregnancy meaning i struggled to move towards the end of my pregnancy so a week before my due date i was induced. After an agonising four days of labouring at 00.01am on Monday 21st August 2006 our healthy 7lb 11oz baby boy was born. We named our son Ethan John. Ethan meaning strong and John after both mine and Darren's dads.

Fast forward a few months to the 26th May 2007 when we found out we were expecting our second child. Again we found out the sex at our 20 weeks scan. This time we discovered we were expecting a girl. I was over the moon!!! A little girl to complete our family. I felt so so lucky to know that i would soon have not only a son but a daughter too. I had a good pregnancy but my baby girl was comfortable being tucked in my tummy and didn't want to make an appearance. 12 days overdue i went into hospital to be induced. I didn't need the long drawn out process of gels etc like i had with Ethan. I had my waters broken and after just a couple of hours at 1.10pm on Wednesday 30th January 2008 our healthy 8lb 8oz baby girl entered the world. We named her Georgina Elizabeth Kleines. Georgina and Elizabeth were just names we liked, but Kleines was my dads mothers name, and my sisters middle name. Unfortunately my dads mum died when dad was just 15 so i felt it was right to carry her name on through the family. As id had such a good delivery and all was well when Georgina was just 3 hours old when we bought her home to meet the family.

We decided that we'd like to move away from our small town and bring our children up near the seaside, so 6months after Georgina was born, just before Ethan's 2nd birthday we moved to Poole. We felt we'd landed on our feet and as a family became closer then ever. I grew as a person and felt i was learning about who i was and became more confident as a mother and a wife. I met some lovely friends through the website 'netmums' and i love them dearly!! I hope i never lose contact with these ladies as they truly are great friends!!!

After just over a year in our new home we realised we were outgrowing the house we lived in so started to look for another house but wanted to stay in the Poole area. We found a 3 bedroom house and moved to the other side of Poole. I loved this house!!! It had a good size garden, huge kitchen, three good sized bedrooms and i got along with our neighbours. I'd found the home we could stay in forever, or so i thought!!!!

Fast forward again to the 29th November 2010 when we discovered we were expecting our third child. I was utterly over the moon but incredibly scared. I felt a million miles from my comfort zone having a baby in Poole so far away from family. How would Poole hospital work in comparison to Salisbury? Salisbury had set a pretty high standard as far as i was concerned with my previous deliveries, how could Poole ever reach my high expectations of care and support at such a special time. All these doubts and concerns troubled me hugely. To add to my worry i felt very alone and isolated. Darren was working away Monday to Friday so I'd go all week with seeing nobody expect my two little beauties. I was 12 weeks pregnant when the dreaded SPD returned that I'd so luckily not suffered in my pregnancy with Georgina. I immediately decided i must be carrying a boy. This pregnancy was tough going though. I felt a single parent stuck on a different planet from the rest of the world. It suddenly hit me that i no longer wanted to live in Poole, so the quest for another house move began.

In march 2011while i was 22weeks pregnant we moved back  'home'. I never thought we'd move back and wasnt completly sure we were doing the right thing, until our first night. I slept like i hadnt slept in ages. I felt 'right'. I cant explain the feeling but i felt comfort like i hadnt felt for a long while. Straight away Ethan started in his new school and Georgina started at preschool. They both settled in brilliantly and made new friends with ease. I was so proud of the way they coped with such a transition. At last we had found a home that we were going to stay in forever to bring our family up in. The decorating task comenced. We had decided we werent going to find out the sex of this baby, afterall we had one of each sex so it made no difference either way to us. We had never had a nursery before so put Ethan and Georgina in a room together, painted one side pink and one side blue. They are so so close and love sharing a room. Our new arrival had been nicknamed 'smudge', so the next room to sort was smudges room. We painted it the neutral tone of yellow with winnie the pooh freeze, this would suit whatever sex we were gifted with.

I was 9 days overdue when i finally laboured after being induced again. This was another quick labour of just 1hr and 40minutes yet it was the most traumatic time of my life yet. It was fairly painfree (as far as painfree labour goes), and i felt comfortable and confident in how i was labouring, until the midwife hit the emergency button and all these people came flooding into the room. I felt a huge rush of panic and worry for my baby. I delivered my little bundle, Darren gave me the news, 'we were right, it's a boy'. I felt relief that the hard work was over, until i noticed the midwives were looking very concerned. It then occured to me that my baby wasnt crying. Time stood still as i watched the midwives trying desperatly to get my son to breath. I've never wanted to hear a baby cry as much as i did at that moment in time. I was so scared, he wasn't a good colour, he wasnt pink like he should be, he was the deepest shade of purple you could imagine. Then i heard the best noise i've heard in  my whole life, he gasped and let out a cry. The relief was overwhelming. The extra midwives started to leave the room and we felt overjoyed. The joy was short lived. The midwife looked for the afterbirth and she turned whiter then white and shouted for Darren to press the emergency button. Again the room flooded with people but this time for me, i was heameroging. I remember Darren stood in the corner of the room holding our son while all these people flapped around me trying to get drips into my arms and the registrar was hitting my stomach so hard, the pain was awful. I remember knowing that i was going to die, i just knew my time was up but i fought with all my fight to stay conciuous as i knew that if i closed my eyes, even for a second they wouldnt open again. It was heartbreaking seeing Darren looking helpless and scared as he watched all these people fighting to keep me alive. Just as it was decided to take me to theatre they managed to get the bleeding under conrol. I was very poorly and needed a blood transfusion. I'd hoped id have a similar experiace to what i did with Georgina, labour and go home very shortly after. Instead i was in for a while recovering after i'd been told that i'd lost at least pints of blood. This was a huge blood lose considering we only have 8pints of blood in our bodies anyway, i felt very very lucky to still be here. The blood i was given was magic, an amazing gift from people ive never met and never will meet. Never will i doubt how special blood donars are!!! I'll never ever be able to thank the team that saved both me and my son that night enough, nor the people that had donated their blood!!
It was 3.40am on Tuesday 9th August 2011 that our latest and final addition joined the family. Reginald Hendrix. Reginald is after Darren's grandad who had died a little while after Darren and i met. Darren had felt close to his gandad and had followed in his footsteps by becoming and electricain. Hendrix was a name we chose because we liked it.

I won't babble anymore for now. I have many blog ideas buzzing around in my head. Things like SPD that i suffered with in my pregnancys with both boys. PND (post natal depression) which i had with all three children. Bipolar disorder that i was diagnosed with while pregnant with Reggie. Being a busy mum of three yet still trying to be a 25 year old and my battle with weight. The list is endless........