Lessons I have learnt in the past 12 months

1 - In the words of Kendrick Lamar - 'sit down, be humble'. Humility is such an attractive quality that will benefit you in so many ways. I struggle with humility sometimes, because for me being humble can also feel like letting people walk all over you. I have realised though that karma rewards you in ways you couldn't possibly imagine, and leaves those who have wronged you with their just desserts. Verdict: totally worth it.

2 - Friends come and go, but true friends are forever. Cliche saying but oh so true. I have been through some hardship in my life, with the biggest being my transition into a young single mum, and everything that happened in my life before then. I lost one friend who I had known since I was 9 years old but I have gained 5 more, and have become even more close with those who have always been here. Quality over quantity - always.

3 - Always make time for friends. Throughout my pregnancy and Zaria's first year it was impossible for me to keep up with seeing everybody. I tried my best to keep in contact with most, and all my friends were understanding when I wasn't able to, or just too exhausted to be social. However from now on, I have made a pact to myself to always make time to check in regularly with those who are closest to me, and when they instigate a catch up, do my best to fit them in. Friends are like family, and for me, I have friends closer to me than my own family. It is also important to surround Zaria with as much love as I can, it is good for her soul, as it is mine.

4 - Be organised. So much more important when you become a mum. Babies need routine, and when you have so much going on in your life like I do, if you aren't organised you can literally waste entire days. Writing lists, keeping a diary and setting goals are a must to stay on track. 

5 - Budget. When I was younger I had no concept of saving. If there was no clear goal e.g save for a car, I didn't save. I spent whatever I had in the bank and didn't see the point of 'saving for nothing'. Now I live by budgets and while some weeks I don't manage to save anything, all my bills are paid, and don't have any debts, and I can cater to my daughter's any need. So in some ways I am richer than most. It took me a while to realise that usually those who 'appear' the richest, are the ones who have the most debt.

6 - The beliefs of the ignorant and uneducated are irrelevant. When I was pregnant with Zaria, I had Luke and his family tell a huge web of lies in attempt to create an illusion where Luke was justified for not having involvement in Zaria's life. They managed to spread it around to their cohort of friends and family, however as soon as Luke fathered another child to another girl 12 months after Zaria, the cracks in their story telling started to show. But long before then I started to learn that the opinion of those who are dumb enough to believe such bullshit, do not, and never will, matter. If you can learn not to give a fuck about the ignorance of others then you set yourself free.

7 - Recognise the signs. Whether that be in a toxic relationship, or friendship, do not make excuses for that person's poor behaviour. Yes we can all get grumpy, snap, get mad ect but if this person is displaying a pattern of consistent behaviour, drop them like a hot potato. They will NEVER be worth your time or investment.

8 - Realise that family can screw you over. Family may be related to you by blood but in the long run that doesn't mean much. If you have family members, (that like friends), show you time and time again what they are 'really' like, then don't even bother. Be as civil as you can for the sake of harmony at family gatherings ect, but do not stress yourself silly trying to figure out ways to get along when you know deep down it will never happen. 

9 - Always work forward. By this I mean goal setting. Be realistic in your goals but always set them so that you are constantly working towards something. For me when Zaria was born I had little goals I had to set for myself because I found motherhood so overwhelming. Some things most mums would consider easy e.g go to the supermarket, I found so hard because I was so nervous. I was scared venturing out alone with her. I felt that the car was too loud and big for her, that the roads were unsafe for her, that the air conditioned supermarket was too cold for her. I was literally petrified over everything when she was little. So I had to set goals to build my confidence. Now my goals are large scale, but nevertheless remain important - finish uni, save to buy my own house, meet new and harder challenges at work. 

10 - The last lesson, and to me, the most important in helping me achieve my happiness is learn to forgive. Again cliche but mastering this has allowed to me to move on with any problem I have faced. I am an angry aggressive person by nature. Most do not know this about me as my mother is the softest most humble person you will ever meet. But I on the other hand, have inherited my rage from my father. Sometimes it is completely uncontrollable, it consumes me and clouds my mind. Albeit no one has been able to make me feel all consuming anger except for Luke and his family, so it has only been recently that I have realised the full wrath of the rage that lives inside me. However I have realised that this rage only surfaces when there are injustices at hand - this is why I must have such a passion for the law as well. When Luke and his family told so many ridiculous lies I was so angry and kept thinking 'how is any of this fair...why me...blah blah'. I also would get like this at work, when a colleague or one of my bosses behaved in a not so professional manner. However I have learnt to forgive the little, all the way to the big, indiscretions of those around me the instant they happen, and not only has it made me a more stress and anger free human being, but I have mastered empathy in ways I never would have if it wasn't for my newfound skill of forgiving others. If someone has done a really shitty thing, like super shitty, and I am having trouble just forgiving and moving on, I try to imagine that person was once a pure and innocent baby (like Zaria), and that something awful must have happened to them along the way for them to be the way that they are. I used to do this all the time with Luke. It helped immensely with forgiveness and coming to terms with what he had done. Find a strategy that works for you and roll with it, so long as you pull forgiveness into your main focus. The liberation and happiness that comes from forgiveness is worth it. 

A.

xx

#lessons #lifelessons #forgiveness #happiness #empathy 

My thoughts on mummy blogger Abby Gilmore

For those of you who don't know who Abby Gilmore is, she is a mummy blogger who lives in Melbourne. And yes, I can hear the collective sigh of all those who are reading this post now - 'so she's just another mummy blogger (insert eye roll)'. And yes, in the practical sense she is 'just another mummy blogger'. But to me she is she so much more, she is an inspiration, and someone I wish I saw more of in the social media world.

In my time as a young single mother I have loyally followed a few mummy bloggers - the biggest ones for me being Sophie Cachia (The Young Mummy), and Mel Watts (The Modern Mumma). I think these two women are great. Both were young mums, and therefore offered a perspective on motherhood that I could relate to the most. However as I have watched both of these women's daily stories and posts about motherhood, I can't help but disconnected from their struggles and lives as time goes on. This is mainly due to the fact that both are married. Both have (what appears to be) incredibly supportive and loving partners. Both men in their lives work their arses off, for them, for their children, and for their families. I can't help but envy that...a lot. This is why when Abby Gilmore recently separated from her AFL star partner and became bumped 'down' to the single mum status, I instantly clicked the 'follow' button on her Instagram page. I was excited to finally see another young mummy blogger out there who is like me - well to a certain extent.

Yes her ex still sees the children (my daughter's father has never met her), and yes he would be financially contributing a lot more than $62 per week to cover expenses (my daughter's father is a low income earner, and has fathered another child, hence the dismal child support payment he has been ordered to pay), and yes they seem to get along for the sake of their kids (my daughter's father has not spoken or seen me since early 2015). So in some ways I still envy Abby. I of course do not want to have contact at all with my daughter's father and quite enjoy being left alone by him and his family, however I worry about the impact the lack of connection will have on my daughter in years to come. When I find myself celebrating that he isn't around, guilt instantly floods my body. After all, no matter how little I think of him and his family, he still is my daughter's other half, and I believe all children should be given the opportunity to know both their parents (of course subject to their personal safety ect). So in this sense, the way Abby's children still have a connection with their father I envy, however the rest of her story I can relate to.

And this is why I admire her so much. Because even though I envy the relationship she has with her ex, in that there is one there at all, I still feel so bad for her. Bad because I know how hard the journey has been for me, and therefore I know how hard it must be for her. See unlike Abby I was never in love with Luke, Zaria's father. (I wasn't going to use his name but it is quicker to write than 'my daughter's father'). I had been with him for a fleeting few months, and not 13 years like Abby was with her ex. I had no assets with him, no joint bank accounts - literally the only thing we shared and ever have, is our daughter. He left shortly after Zaria was conceived and I never heard from him again (apart from one email after she was born stating he wanted a paternity test). Our families aren't connected and we don't have mutual friends. I know a lot of people that know him or went to school with him, and a few are my close friends, however no one has a connection with him and certainly do not harbour any respect for him since the birth of Zaria.

Yet I still had my heart broken. How you ask? How on earth could you have your heart broken by someone you didn't even love? I know it sounds bizzare. Even I too was confused by it all. I was so incredibly sad and hurt that I convinced myself that I must have loved him, if he could make me feel this way, make me feel THIS bad. But now as I write from the other side of that dark place, the place where it is all laughter, happiness and pure joy, I can see I did not love him, I just loved the IDEA of him.

For as long as I can remember I pictured myself as an adult doing things a certain way. By 25 I wanted the baby, the career, the dream guy, the big house. I wanted to be a wife and a lover, and fuss and adore over my husband and my children. And I of course wanted the same in return - a man who was faithful to me and our family, and who loved whole heatedly. I soon learned after my experience with Luke that men like that are only born from good families with grounded parents. Luke's parents and family are far from stable. I also learnt that boys like Luke are only meant for girls like me in our younger more dangerous years - those 'bad boys' we meet on the dance floor of the nightclub, and ditch the next morning once the drunken fun is over.

So I can relate to Abby's want and almost need to be a mother and a partner so young. That innate predisposition to mother your own offspring, and create life with someone you love with all your heart. I was, and still am, in love with the idea of love and everything that it represents.

I think this is why I was so heartbroken when it all unfolded for me. I knew it was going to happen, I could see from the moment I met him that Luke lacked integrity, kindness, family support and encouragement to do 'the right thing'. But for me I realised I wasn't heartbroken over him, I was heartbroken at what I believed he had taken from Zaria and I.

You see when I was pregnant and after Zaria was born I did nothing but compare myself to other women. I saw all these women come to their anti-natal appointments with their men, gush excitedly together over baby names while they patiently waited in the waiting room. I imagined what they would say to each other when they doctor scanned the mum's belly and the sex was revealed. How they would hold each other's hands while the doctor talked to them about the 'birthing plan'. The look in each other's eyes - that look of love and adoration for each other over the miracle that they just created. The sound of the doctor's voice all but I distant murmur, drowned out by the love and excitement of 2 parents to be. I imagined these couples going home and planning out the nursery. Going to shops and buying all the essentials in preparation for their baby's arrival.

I imagined the man rubbing the woman's feet, massaging her back in labour. Feeling her pain, as she dealt with every single contraction with grace and strength. The look of pure admiration in his eyes as he witnessed the full potential of his partner's body and mind. I imagined the look in each other's eyes when the baby is finally born - the tears, the joy, 'look at what we created'!!

I imagined the first night at home together with their baby. The first walk in the pram as the happy couple ventures out for the first time. 'Oh he has your eyes, but dad's nose', admiring strangers would say.

Then I imagined that baby growing up to know and love both parents, and know that they are loved in return even more. That this baby grows up to be a child that knows they can count on both their parents no matter what. That they can share all milestones and achievements with both their parents, and live in a big home filled with family photos of all three of them. Then as time goes on, that child shares a sibling, or 2, or 3, or 4, or more. All this happiness and love just oozing out of every aspect of their life.

And this is why I was heartbroken. Because Luke took all that away from me and Zaria. Because of him, I never could share any of these amazing moments like most couples do. Because of him I was the only one that took my mother to birthing class while the rest had their partners. Because of him I had to choose my 3 best friends as my support people in labour when everyone else on the birthing ward had their partner. Because of him I financially struggled to raise Zaria on my own when others had 2 incomes. Because of him I had to (and still do) juggle so much more in my life than what I would if he were here helping me raise her. Because of him I could never enjoy all those 'firsts' with the other person that helped create Zaria. Because of him our daughter will grow up never knowing her father and his family. Because of him she won't get to share a full sibling. Because of him she won't ever get to experience the pride and joy that comes from watching your parents love and adore each other.

See being left heartbroken is a funny thing.  You feel so much sadness that it is sometimes difficult to pinpoint exactly why you are feeling the way that you do. But now as I reflect, I can see that I was heartbroken over what I never got to experience, and I was immersed with guilt over 'choosing' a father like Luke for Zaria, when she deserves (like any child), so so much more.

This is why Abby resonates with me. Because she was in so deep with her ex, and resigned to the fact that that was it for her - he was her soulmate, the man she was 'destined' to be with. And when us women make that pact with ourselves, we commit to it. We see a family unit we want to keep together, we see a life that 'could' be, and we see the potential our partner has if he were to do 'this, this and this'. The reasons to stay and overlook all the faults is motivated so strongly by our children and by how we think our life should pan out, that we dive in blindly and hope for the best.

When I read Abby's latest blog on love my heart broke for her. Because if I was as sad as I was over my situation, and felt everything that I did in that time, I honestly don't know how women like Abby are even finding the motivation to get out of bed and smile.

She inspires me because she uses her children to motivate her. She uses her friends to uplift her, and her family to support her. She continues to get out and enjoy life, and uses her social media network, not to brag about lavish items generously donated to her, or post pictures in vain purely for the attention it will receive from followers, but to reach women and girls who, like me, need to desperately know that they aren't alone in their journey, and that no matter how 'pathetic' their feelings and emotions may seem to them, they are most certainly validated by their struggles.

Abby is a woman and a mother that embodies the values that I aspire to surround Zaria with, and it is because of this that I believe that even though she thinks her world has crumbled in recent months, it really is only the beginning; for how can someone so pure, strong and beautiful not have the world at her feet?

Here is to all the women like Abby; may we know them, may we be them, may we raise them.

A.
xx

#AbbyGilmore #AccordingtoAbby #singlemums #parenting

Birth Story Part 1

You didn't tell me it was going to be hard.

No one did.

My mother said it would be easy - 'Ishy I had three drug free births, hell with my first all I remember was three short sharp pains, one push, and BAM baby out'.

All the doctors and midwives - 'You have youth, health, and physical strength on your side. Big fit girl with big hips - birth will be a breeze'.

My boss at work - ' I had my first baby when I was 36. You are 22, it will be sooo easy. Women are meant to have babies young, its science. You have SCIENCE on your side'.

Me - 'Okay Aisha you can do this. You have genetics, youth, health, science and the medical opinions of many on your side. Birth will be a walk in the park'.

Well, my birth was not a walk in the park. In fact it was far from it. It was a slow aching crawl across the biggest, widest, deepest park you could find.

In order to tell my birth story I have to wind back to pregnancy. Pregnancy for me was easy. Really easy. I had no morning sickness. Thank god. The only symptoms I had was the intense pain you feel in the early stages as your uterus is stretching. Pain which by the way, no one, and I mean no one, tells you about. That shit hurt almost as bad as my early contractions. 

I also had, in my third trimester, pretty bad swelling in my ankles and legs, and although that was uncomfortable and required mum to massage my feet every night, it was manageable. 

I had huge cravings for cereal. In particular museli with yoghurt and blueberries. I would have this almost every meal time. Oddly, now I can't go near the stuff without cringing. 

I had pregnancy acne, but it was only noticeable to me, I would get comments everywhere I went about how I radiated the 'pregnancy glow' (thankfully, I mean whats the point of being pregnant if you ain't glowing, right?). 

The hardest part of my pregnancy would have to have been my fatigue. Boy oh boy was I tired. Like allll the time. I would nap for 3 hours every day. Although looking back I think that my fatigue was more of a depressive slump. I had been put through an incredibly rough time with my daughter's father and his family and I think this attributed to my need to sleep often, more so than the general fatigue that comes with growing a human in your belly. I also studied at university full time and worked. So I did have a lot going on that would have made any non pregnant person tired. But still for me I have always been active and alert. So sleeping this often was not a normality for me.

The weeks flew. For me it seemed to go by a lot quicker because I didn't really start to show until the 30 week mark. People who would see me everyday, eg the local baker, mailman, neighbours even, were shocked when all of a sudden I was walking around with this big round pregnant belly. It was like I became pregnant overnight. I always thought I didn't show until late because I was tall. But now I see tall women who show really early, so I guess it really just depends on the person doesn't it?

I loved my belly. When I finally popped I wore my belly proudly wherever I went. Those first kicks. The first ultrasound where you see your baby moving about. The emotions, the feelings - the best word to describe it all is surreal. Absolutely amazingly surreal.

I would talk to my belly everyday.

I would dance with my belly.

Cry to my belly.

Study with my belly.

Dream with my belly.

My belly had a name by the time I was 24 weeks - Zaria. I did want to name her Aria but decided that such a name was more suited to a quiet, white girl with blonde curly locks and a sweet placid nature. I knew that my baby was not an Aria. No child of mine would ever be an Aria. It's not in my blood. So whack a Z in front of that and there you have a fierce name with a beautiful meaning - blossoming flower (in Arabic). 

My belly ended up being a 58cm, 9 pound 10 oz bundle of pure light born at 5.02am on Friday 13th November 2015.

A day that I will never forget. 

A day that I grew as a person.

A day my heart felt so much overwhelming love I felt like I could have exploded there and then.

And a day that brought immediate fear. Fear that I would not be good enough, strong enough, smart enough, hard working enough, to be the mother that this little girl, MY little girl deserved.

But motherhood is a funny thing. All these emotions, all these hormones, are racing through your body right from conception to birth. And even though these emotions can be so powerful that sometimes you feel like you could drown in them, they are instantly alleviated when your baby looks up at you for the very first time. 

Zaria's eyes trusted me. She looked at me with soul wrenching love and adoration when she was just seconds old. And it was in that moment that my fear was replaced with courage. My body which felt on the brink of collapsing, opened up and absorbed the love and healing that Zaria emanated from her tiny (albeit slimy) body. The burning between my legs had disappeared. The past 5 days of labour felt like a distant memory. And just as I was ready to latch her onto my breast and share those magical first moments of true bonding, my midwife looks up from between my legs and yells 'Doctor, we need to get this patient to the theatre urgently'. The look of fear in her eyes suddenly brought back the memories of the last 5 days, the unbearable burning between my legs, the worry I felt, the doubts I had on my body to do the very thing it was born to do. Zaria was whisked off my chest and my bed started rolling away. Fluroesent hospital lights flashed, blinding me. Doctors and nurses surrounding my bed, yelling at patrons to clear the hallway as I was wheeled off at a fast pace towards the theatre room.

Where is my baby? Where is my baby? I remember trying to speak but nothing would come out. I felt like I was in a nightmare where I could't talk. I couldn't control where I was going, what I was doing. Everything was happening so fast. And in that moment I thought that perhaps death was not 70 years down the track, but it fact moments away. Death couldn't take me yet, I thought. Please God no. My Zaria, I need to be here for my Zaria. And then, everything went black.

To be continued...

A

xx

Defeated

Today I am writing from a place of defeat.

I feel stressed, exhausted, inadequate, and exhausted...oh wait I already mentioned that didn't I?

In my first post I talked about the many aspects of my life I have to juggle. I talked about writing of all the tips and tricks I use to keep balanced. But truth is...it's all a big act of winging it. And today I feel like my luck with winging it has officially ran out.

My daughter is 14 months old. She is at the age where she is constantly challenging EVERYTHING. She has just started walking so I have to watch her every move. Who would of thought how exhausting that could be. Just follow around a little human Aisha...all day...everyday. Its not hard. Mums all around the world do it. Mums younger than you. Mums who have less support than you. Its easy Aisha.

But do you know what? For me its hard, really hard. I think it is harder when I have that voice running through my head. The voice that tells me I am inadequate. I feel guilt every time I struggle. Guilt for not being able to cope. In my darker moments my mind turns the Children's Court. Before becoming a mum I would look at cases my firm deals with, and think bloody hell. How could they?! How could these mothers and fathers neglect, abuse, and basically can't get their shit together for the sake of their kids. The idea of shitty parents is a foreign concept to me. Ironic because my dad is useless as they come, but my mother gave up everything for me. She sacrificed so much to give me this life, and the thought of other mothers not doing the same, especially when we are the ones that grow our children, and birth them into this world, is just bizarre to me.

But now I get it.

Obviously I don't get how mothers and fathers delve into their darkest selves and inflict heinous crimes...particularly the worst cases of abuse. However I get how parents who have no support, no money, no home, no family, no education, and usually in the cases I have seen, combined with drug and alcohol abuse, family violence and multiple children; act out and loose their shit.

I of course have never raised a hand to my daughter and can confidently say I never will. But parenting it hard. Soooo friggin hard. So I get how parents who don't have the life that I do, struggle to parent with a level head and end up neglecting or whacking their kids out of frustration. Of course they would. It makes sense. Total sense.

So bringing it back to today, I feel like one of these parents, a useless one. A parent who has cracked under the general pressures and stresses that parenthood inevitably brings. But instead of slaying it, keeping my head held high, and a bright smile on my face, I am worn out. Completely and utterly worn out.

Last Friday my assignment was due. I attempted to do an elective unit over summer for my law degree. I planned on making a start on my assignment 2 weeks before the due date. But I failed. Work built up. I couldn't say no. Zaria was extra challenging these past two weeks. My mother (whom I live with), went on holidays and I felt guilty dumping Zaria on her during her break so I could study. It got hot. Like really hot. I can't study when its hot. Then Zaria got sick. Then I caught what Zaria had, and also got sick.  Shit just kept coming up. And the assignment kept getting push to the bottom of the list.

I have this best friend, who's also a young single mum trying to finish her uni degree as well. She gets it. When I loose my marbles she's the one I turn to vent.

Today I messaged her, finally accepting the fact that I am not able to do my assignment, or sit my exam. She advised me end of last year to take this summer off and give myself a break. I am kicking myself that I didn't listen to her in the first place. She, like always, gave me helpful and supportive advice.

'Ish email the uni, reach out to them. Explain you are a young single mum. That its only you and your mum at home. That your mum works full time and so do you. That you work full time yourself. That your daughter doesn't go to daycare so you look after her all day, work all night and work all weekend. That somewhere in between those major commitments you try and find the time to do housework, washing, cooking and baking. That between just those commitments you get 5 hours sleep max during the night. And that is even before you try and factor in study. They will understand. Next trimester starts in March. Gather yourself in the next month and try again. You aren't inadequate. You don't suck. You are an amazing mum. Zaria is happy and healthy. You are in a good place with your employers. You have enough money to pay your bills and build a home. You are okay. Uni will wait for the next month. GIVE YOURSELF A BREAK'.

How good are friends? Miss saves me from myself all the time.

I have avoided withdrawing my unit and emailing the uni all day. But writing this blog, Miss' message, and the fact that Zaria is finally giving me a break and gave in to a nap, has given me the courage and rest that I desperately needed to sort my uni out for the rest of the year.

My breathing has slowed down. I don't feel like I am on the brink of a panic attack that can burst to the surface at anytime. I feel like I'm in control now. Well that's a lie. I feel like I am in control over the next few hours. Tomorrow, next week, next month, next year - I'll probably have set backs like this. But in this moment, for now, I need to know I am okay. And I am.

Thank you to my friend, Miss. You have no idea how much you do for me with just a few simple words of wisdom.

Friends are essential. If you have good ones like I do never let them go.

And if you feel like loosing your shit, do it, loose it, then bring yourself back to neutral. Life is challenging, and it always will be. But challenges force us to be bigger, stronger versions of ourselves, and looking in the mirror today, I can now confidently say that I like this version I have become.

A.

xx