Rebecca Sparrow

The sting of failure on the road to success …

June 11, 2018 // 0 Comments

Next week my nine year-old daughter is quite probably going to have her heartbroken. 💔 And as strange as it is to say …. I’m okay with it.

My little wing attack is trying out for a netball team to play in one of those specific inter-school comps. She really wants a spot in the team. Like REALLY. But truth be told her chances of getting in are slim at best. There are only two teams and she’s up against LOTS of kids. She’s up against kids in the grade above. She’s up against kids who’ve been playing netball longer than she has and who are – if we’re being honest – more skilled on the court.

We’ve talked about all that – talked it through — but she still wants to throw her hat in the ring knowing disappointment is on the cards. And I’m proud of her for that.

Now here’s the weird bit.

As much as I really, really want her to score a place in the team, I also hope she doesn’t.

Does that sound cruel? Possibly.

But here’s the thing … I want my daughter to build up her resilience muscle. And the fact is, experiencing these inevitable, small disappointments and losses is good for her. It’s helping her develop some grit. It’s teaching her how to handle disappointments and life – as WE ALL KNOW, RIGHT? – is a rollercoaster of triumphs and tragedies, wins and losses.

My daughter is only nine. She has years (and years and, er, years) ahead of her at school of dealing with heartbreak. There’ll be other sporting or debating or drama teams she misses out on. School competitions where she bombs out or fails to be awarded a place. There’ll be teachers she doesn’t gel with. Assignments or tests where she’s disappointed with her mark. Parties she’s not invited to. Badges or leadership positions she fails to secure.

Does it hurt? Absolutely. It it sometimes unfair? Sure.

But that’s high school, right? That’s life.

And life is joyous and wonderful and thrilling and it will also stomp your heart into the ground when you least expect it.

In high school you’ll miss out on a certain role or a grade or badge. In life, you miss out on jobs and promotions and second dates. (This is another reason I love my daughter playing a team sport because no amount of bubble-wrap parenting can save your child from team losses or unfair calls and they have to learn to accept those moments with good grace. Go #teamgirls!)

Teachers tell me story after story of parents who email or call to complain when their child doesn’t win a prefect or school captain badge, miss out on a team or are given a B instead of an A in a class.

Now maybe there are some exceptions but I gotta say, I think that sounds a bit nuts.

In a 2015 column called “Want To Raise A Successful Kid? Let Them Fail’ clinical psychologist Dr Stephanie O’Leary outlines five benefits kids experience from failure. You can read the full article here:https://www.inc.com/…/want-to-raise-successful-kids-let-the…

In a nutshell, they are:

1. Experiencing failure helps your child learn to cope
2. Hardship builds character
3. The older you are the first time you ‘fall’ the longer the drop and the harder the landing
4. Failing teaches your child to persevere
5. Rescuing your child sends the message you don’t trust them.

Of course I want to see my daughter win a place on that netball team. But if she doesn’t – that’s more than okay. Because more than anything I want her to develop her inner grit. Her bounce-ability. I want her to get comfortable with failure. I want her to learn how to feel the disappointment but then shrug it off knowing that tomorrow is a new day and that she has it within her to rise.

Filed Under: Ask Me Anything, Find Your Feet, Find Your Tribe, Motherhood, Resources for teenage boys, Resources for tween and teen girls // 0 Comments

Life is full of magic …

June 11, 2018 // 0 Comments

It’s my favourite part of the day.

Every night when it’s time to turn out her light, I sit on the end of my nine-year-old daughter’s bed and I hold her hand as we chat in the dark.

Our topics are as varied as the thoughts which bubble through her mind.

“Do you think I’ll ever meet Hugh Jackman?”
“Did you ever get in trouble in class?”
“Will I ever get to see snow?”
“How come we have to do homework?”
“Did you always want to be a writer?”

And last Tuesday night she asked me, “Do you believe in magic?”

Do I believe in magic? I took a moment to think about it.

Yes, I finally said. I do. Life is full of magic. The key, I told her, is to pay attention.

There is magic in the tiniest moments. When you are so desperately missing your best friend and a postcard arrives from her in the letterbox the very day when you’re feeling especially blue. When you go on a beach holiday and your mum forgot to pack your dominos set only to find the exact same set in the games cupboard at the rented beach house. When you hear about a seven-year-old girl in foster care who is dreaming of an Elsa costume, exactly like the one you’ve outgrown that’s hanging in your cupboard. It’s in that first wobbly bike ride without mum hanging on. A discovery of fifty cents on the footpath while you’re walking to school. It’s in custard tarts and summer swims and fairy lights.

Of course magic is not reserved only for the young. It’s in the lives of grown-ups too.

There is magic in unexpected friendships. Picking up the right book at exactly the right time and it giving you the clarity you need. It’s when money comes in when an eye-watering bill is due. A cat or dog who comes over for a snuggle when you need it most.

And there is magic when you hear that a friend who has battled years of infertility and countless, heartbreaking cycles of IVF is suddenly 19 weeks pregnant.

PREGNANT!

This week my dear friend and Hot Tomato breakfast radio host 41-year-old Emily Jade O’Keeffe announced she was pregnant with her much-wanted and longed for and dreamed about second child.

“Our miracle Millie is about to be joined by another hard-earned miracle in June 2018. 5 years, 260 weeks, 1,825 days, 2.3 million minutes. That’s how long and desperately we have tried for this little life,” she wrote in an Instagram post.

“Would I go through it all again? Yes, just to hear that tiny but heavenly heartbeat with my husband next to me holding my hand. Although I wish it had been easier (and cheaper!) it was worth the wait…. and wait…and WAIT!

“Having been through so much with each other to create another much wanted child, we didn’t want the pain and effort to be forgotten in our joy. The stars behind us represent the 32 embryos, and miscarriage it took to make our dream a reality. There was so much hope in every one, and we mourned them all (and kept BWS in business drinking away our sorrow).

“We have met and shared tears, hugs and heartbreak with many others on the same horrendous journey and I don’t want this announcement to hurt, as pregnancy announcements often can, did and still probably will. We know we are just plain lucky in the end. And that this is a miracle. We want to acknowledge and respect that. But also we are so relieved, so very very relieved and anxious still, and praying hard but so so thankful and then a whole lot excited.”

The pain of infertility is, I can only imagine, an enormous, private sorrow — often forced to be made public — that can take a long time to reconcile. Grief, I once read, is the result when you have so much love to give and nowhere for it to go.

There is incredible sympathy and understanding when someone is trying for their first child and struggling to conceive or carry a baby to term – and rightly so. But there is also grief – albeit different – when the number of children you have is different to the number of children you so desperately wanted. When you longed for two or three or four children and that’s not the cards you were dealt.

Emily Jade’s cards included endometriosis and Hashimoto’s disease. It took her two years to conceive Millie (which she says seems like a walk in the park now) and five long years for this one!

For all the medical developments which have occurred over the past 30 years there is still an element of magic and mystery to fertility and pregnancy. Sheer luck. A roll of six on a die. Part magic. Part miracle.

To EJ and Gerard and Millie, I am sending you every blessing, every good wish, every positive vibe that your little baby continues to grow healthy and strong. For every person reading this column who is wishing and longing for a baby to hold in their arms — I send you the same. I send you a roll of six on the die.

And on that day in June when EJ shares a photo of herself holding her happy and healthy newborn in her arms, I will show it to my daughter Ava and say, “See that little baby? That right there is a little bit of magic.”

Filed Under: Motherhood, Stillbirth / miscarriage /infertility // 0 Comments

Backstabbing, eye rolls & exclusion … the bully tactics favoured by our girls.

June 4, 2018 // 0 Comments

I wrote this piece on bullying amongst female students for The Courier Mail back in 2004!

It was a time before iPhones and Facebook and WhatsApp and yet so much of this article still rings true today. I think one of the most frustrating things for kids and parents is that frequently the “mean girls” who behave like bullies are incredibly articulate and charming in front of teachers. I heard of a high school recently where a bully was awarded a student leadership badge …

*****
In 1988, when I was fifteen, a classmate had her personal diary stolen out of her school bag, photocopied and taped up on the walls of the senior girls’ toilets. A new student was the target of a whisper campaign – instigated by her former best friend. She felt so ostracised that she was rumoured to have attempted suicide and eventually left the school. Yet another girl regularly started lunch each day by pulling her school bag out of the bin.

Fast forward to February 2004 and a prominent Brisbane private school was forced to call in the police when the bullying by a group of girls spiralled out of control. When the bullies started harassing their victim via SMS, the police were called in to mediate, explaining to the perpetrators that what they were doing was not just illegal but could easily result in charges of harassment.

Despite the current hype, female bullying is nothing new … it’s just the devastating impact that experts had – until now – under-estimated.

Behaviour that was once dismissed as girls “just being bitchy” is today acknowledged as “relational bullying”. It’s a new tag for those age-old, indirect (and often vicious) forms of aggression favoured by girls: backstabbing, exclusion, rumour spreading and the manipulation of friendships. Today it is recognised as the most pervasive form of bullying amongst girls and boys – perhaps because it so easily goes unnoticed by teachers or parents.

Relational bullying is distinct from physical and verbal bullying because it’s a silent campaign aimed at inflicting psychological pain on the target and breaking up their relationships with others. It can be as subtle as a withering glance, as painful as lunchtime exclusion and as insidious as an email hate campaign designed to ruin the victim’s reputation.

It’s hardly surprising then that experts now believe that relational abuse is often more damaging to the long-term psychological health of its victims than either physical or face-to-face verbal abuse.

Dr Ken Rigby is one of Australia’s leading authorities on school bullying and peer victimisation, having written more than 60 research papers and numerous books on the topic.

A recent survey conducted by Rigby of 700 school students confirmed that they found “relational bullying” to be the most hurtful form of abuse.

“Of course we shouldn’t make the assumption that if someone is savagely beaten, it’s any less traumatising. The point is that relational bullying is having a greater short-term and long-term impact than had ever been supposed. It’s happening more often than we thought and its results can be deadly.”

Results like loss of self-esteem, anxiety, depression, social alienation, absenteeism and suicidal thinking. In the long-term, a formerly bullied child may have difficulty in trusting people, recurring social anxiety and depression.

“Research shows that one in six Australian children is bullied on a weekly basis,” says Rigby. “I don’t think we’re taking bullying seriously enough.”

Rigby points out that relational bullying is not limited to girls. Although, he admits that most research indicates that girls are more likely to be the perpetrators – and the victims – of this more Machiavellian form of aggression.

A point backed up by Rosalind Wiseman, author of Queen Bees and Wannabes, a non-fiction book designed to help parents guide their daughters through the female politics of school.

“For starters, power for girls is about who has the most ‘Girl World’ things,” says Wiseman, using a phrase she coined to describe those things girls feel are vital to their survival. “Being generically pretty, having the most money so that they have the right style, having the right boyfriend, knowing how to communicate well with adults so that they leave you alone … these give you power as a teenage girl. And you don’t have to have all those things but it’s about who has the most. And it’s the rush – the competition for them – that creates the hierarchy amongst girls.”

Ask Wiseman why girls are more likely to bully one another using methods like gossip and exclusion, and she’ll tell you that it’s part biology and part sociology.

“Biologically, it’s about girls and their verbal abilities,” says Wiseman, acknowledging the power of words. “But in terms of sociology, girls are raised being told that they cannot be straight forward with their feelings when they’re angry and that they are not to be directly confrontational. This leaves girls feeling that they have to do things in a more backhanded, surreptitious kind of way.”

Both Rigby and Wiseman agree that relational bullying isn’t on the increase but that the advent of technology like email, the internet and mobile phones has meant that bullies now have more tools at their disposal. Today a rumour can be spread to hundreds of people at the push of a ‘send’ button.

Many schools – and experts – are divided on the best way to handle bullies. Aside from suspension and expulsion in extreme cases, Wiseman talks about personalising punishments.

‘You scan the horizon of that child’s life and figure out what is the thing that they value most and you take that away. It doesn’t matter how good they are on the soccer team or in the school play – those things are privileges, not rights. If you punish a kid and take things away that don’t matter to them, then what they think is, ‘If I’m good at something, then I can get away with murder’.”

Rigby says a restorative justice approach can sometimes be effective in cases of severe bullying. Bringing the victim and bully together, the process gives the victim the opportunity to speak out and the bully’s behaviour (rather than the bully) is adequately shamed. The bullying student is also made to restore whatever harm they have done to their victim – if that’s possible. Handled properly, restorative justice makes the bullying student take personal responsibility for their behaviour, while still offering them support and forgiveness by their school community.

When relational bullying is allowed to thrive in schools, it gives perpetrators an open door to take their behaviour – spreading rumours, excluding others and manipulating situations – into workplaces, sporting clubs and boardrooms.

Acknowledging the seriousness of relational bullying is the first step towards creating a culture that says manipulation and covert aggression are unacceptable … regardless of whether it occurs under the teacher’s nose, via SMS or on the walls of the senior girls’ toilets.

Filed Under: Ask Me Anything, Find Your Tribe, Resources for tween and teen girls // 0 Comments

The internet is society’s great truth-teller ….

May 30, 2018 // 0 Comments

We spend a lot of time warning teens about how the majority of people tell white lies on social media. And that’s true. We remind students that people are presenting a curated version of themselves, the best version, which is often far from reality.

What we fail to say is that away from our own heavily curated profiles — the internet has the power to reflect back to the world who we really are.

Every comment we make on other peoples posts.
Every like.
Every share.
Those moments when we let our guard down and our real opinions come out — THAT tells a future employer, a future school, a scholarship board, a romantic partner so much about what type of person we are.

When I hired staff in the past, you bet I googled them. In 2018, I google my prospective babysitters. I

Wise words from Glennon Doyle.

don’t expect perfection but I’m also not about to hire anyone who posts racist or sexist or homophobic comments.

That’s why I ask students to write a list and stick it in their bedroom where they’ll see it every day. Ask yourself, “What do I stand for? What do I believe in?”

Do I support racism? Am I okay with homophobia? Do I think it’s acceptable when someone is belittling another person online? Or making jokes about someone who is differently abled? What are your values as a human being?

We need to remind ourselves WHO. WE. ARE and what we stand for. And try to ensure that every comment and like and share we make online reflects those values.

As Glennon Doyle says, “Just a reminder, there’s not two of you. Internet you and real you. There is just ONE real you. Which means if you’re not kind on the internet, you’re not kind.”

Filed Under: Before You Hit Send, Find Your Tribe, Uncategorized // 0 Comments

Sunday will be bittersweet ….

May 11, 2018 // 0 Comments

I wrote this piece three years ago. It is as true today as it was then …

****

It’s Mother’s Day this Sunday and truth be told if I could close my eyes and skip a day – jump ahead to Monday and miss Mother’s Day altogether – I would.

Mother’s Day is bittersweet for me. And I think that’s probably the same for thousands of women. Women who, like me, have lost a child. Lost a pregnancy. Lost a marriage. Or lost a dream – the dream of motherhood that seems to have sailed on by. Then of course there are the women who have lost their own mothers, or their relationship with their mothers too.

I get it. All of it. Of course I do.

Mother’s Day becomes a painful reminder of what you don’t have.

I’m heart-burstingly lucky, of course. I have three beautiful happy and healthy children who on Sunday morning will smother me in kisses and cuddles. I’ll be presented with homemade cards, cold tea and a piece of toast suffocated in vegemite.

And then there is of course my husband who will valiantly attempt to give me a rest and keep the kids out of the bedroom for an hour or two but when you have three kids aged 5 and under, that’s like trying to keep One Directioners from Harry Styles. Who knew motherhood could make you feel like a rock star in your pyjamas? What an absolute blessing and privilege it is to experience. To be so adored for simply being you.

So, while I know deep into my very soul how lucky I am to have my gang… A rosie-cheeked, dark haired, four-year-old girl is missing today.

She should be here but she’s not. And because of that, Mother’s Day, Christmas Day, Easter, Halloween, my birthday, her birthday, every excruciating day of the year is bittersweet for me because one of my children is missing.

My second daughter Georgie was stillborn 10 days before she was due to be delivered in 2010.

And I wonder about her now as much as I ever did. Would she and Ava have been close friends? Would her hair have stayed dark? Would she have twirled into my bedroom in that pink and red tutu Ava often wore? Or would she have wanted something totally different? That’s what tortures me the most… that I don’t know.

And I miss her. A complete stranger and yet my little girl.

That alone makes me want to sob at my desk.

And you know what else? In between the tea and the toast and the cards and the cuddles on Mother’s Day, I will actually spend the day looking for signs from her.

A clue. A whisper that she is around. It sounds ridiculous, I know. Possibly a little nutty. But that’s how it is. On Mother’s Day more than any other day I crave contact from my missing daughter as though I’m in an episode of Touched by an Angel and not just a mum in the suburbs who spends her days packing lunch boxes and hanging out washing.

So to every woman who faces Mother’s Day with a sense of dread or a strangled heart – I hear you. I get it.

For every woman who is putting on a brave face, who is pretending to be happy for everyone else – I get it.

For every woman who spends the day being reminded of what she doesn’t have, for what passed her by – you have my heart. Do whatever you need to do to get through Sunday.

And I just want you to know this: You’re not alone.

We’re all in this together.

If you’re struggling this Mother’s Day, please call Lifeline on 131114.

Filed Under: Grief, Motherhood // 0 Comments

Stories about feathers and telephones and grief and a little boy called Hamish …

May 1, 2018 // 0 Comments

No matter how hard we try, we cannot out-run death or grief.

Tomorrow, is the birthday of my goddaughter May who was stillborn nearly two decades ago. Tomorrow I will also be attending the funeral of my father-in-law. On the weekend a friend of mine marked the one-year anniversary of the death of her beloved husband. Last week I was with Tamra talking about how beautifully Australian Story captured the life of her daughter Emma Betts who died last year.

At some point each of us is going to have to deal with loss and the death of a loved one. And yet we live in a society so uneasy and uncomfortable with mourning and death and grief.

Last week a beautiful book arrived in the mail for me. I held my breath as I read it and then cried. Not because it was sad – more because it was so beautiful and tender.

Finn’s Feather is a children’s picture book written by Queensland author Rachel Noble. It’s the story of a little boy called Finn who finds a feather on his doorstep and immediately believes it’s a sign from his brother Hamish who died. It is the most beautiful story navigating the journey children take when they lose a loved family member. If you have a child who has lost someone — I cannot recommend this book more highly. Rachel wrote it to honour the memory of her little boy Hamish who died in 2012. It’s a beautiful uplifting story about how children find their own way to explain death and the importance of having people in their lives who can meet them where they are. It reminded how much better children can be at handling grief because they can be so open about their feelings. It’s a story of love and resilience and memory.

Then tonight on my drive home from a speaking engagement in Samford, I heard an episode of This American Life talking about the ‘wind telephone’ in Japan. When a 72 yo man lost his cousin in 2010, he built a glass telephone booth in his garden with a rotary dial phone – disconnected – inside. It’s called the ‘wind telephone’ and the idea is that anytime you feel like it you can go to the phone and talk to the loved one you lost – the message will be carried to them on the wind. Now, thousands of grieving people from all over Japan come to visit the phone to ‘call’ those they have lost.

I heard that story and thought how extraordinarily beautiful it was. Maybe if you have lost someone, you could make a little letterbox where you and your kids can post letters to a mum or dad or grandparent or friend who is no longer here. Just telling them what you wish they could know. Or maybe you could buy your own rotary phone to pick up and call when you need to connect with those you have lost.

If you have a child who is dealing with grief — order a copy of Finn’s Feather by Rachel Noble. It’s beautiful and full of love and hope. https://www.booktopia.com.au/finn-s-…/prod9781592702749.html

And you can read more about the Japanese wind telephone here: http://www.afr.com/…/japans-otsuchi-wind-phone-lets-living-…

You’ll find more books on grief here (including books for teens) at the Children’s Books Daily website: http://childrensbooksdaily.com/must-have-childrens-books-on-grief-empathy-and-feelings/

Hamish, what a legacy you have left behind. Thank you.

xxxxx

Filed Under: Grief // 0 Comments

Dear Duchess Catherine …

April 23, 2018 // 0 Comments

I’m thinking tonight about the Duchess of Cambridge going into labour with her third child. And I thought, I don’t make having three little kids at home sound very appealing.

For starters I routinely look tired. And dishevelled. And my favourite joke is to say to people that I haven’t slept since 2008.

When I do talk – I talk a lot about the chaos. And it is chaos and it has been from the start.

In 2013 I had a newborn, an 18-month-old and a four-year-old. And a husband who was rarely home. I can’t even remember the ensuing 12 months because it unfolded in a blur. I do remember how at times the sheer thought of getting all three kids dressed and into the car left me feeling overwhelmed.

Fast forward five years and my days are full of “Sit down please” and “Don’t put the tomato sauce bottle in your mouth” and “Could you please just eat one bite of sandwich for me? PLEASE” and “Stop chasing the dog” and “Get into bed NOW!” and “Why are there six trains in my handbag? ” and “Your hat! Quick go back!” and “Just for two minutes could everyone stop talking?” and “NO MORE POO JOKES!”

I have spent more hours than I care to think about searching for lost teddy bears. And playing trains. And reading Pig The Pug. And pointing out fire engines and tallying the points for SPOTTO and researching Shopkins.

I have written column after column talking about how my boys seem to develop the temperament of Kanye West at 4pm. How my daughter once-upon-a-time was known to follow me around the house narrating our day. It was like living with Evan in The Secret Life Of Us. I have admitted how at the end of each day I have nothing left to give and as messages ping on my phone and emails arrive in my Inbox all I want to do is sit in silence with a cup of tea and speak to no-one.

I have written about the awkward moments. Like the Christmas day several years ago when about to bite into a mouthful of succulent turkey, my daughter paused and said, “So, was this turkey once alive and running around? Is it dead and we’re eating it? What happened to its feathers? Did it die of old age?”

Forks down.

But what I haven’t written about enough is the sheer magic these three children bring into my life. The colour and movement and laughter and mayhem. The “surprise kisses” on my arm. The hand slipped into mine when we’re walking to school or kindy. Watching Anne of Green Gables with my daughter on my bed. The fun I have with them playing Five Second Rule or Race To The Treasure. My kids are my favourite people to spend time with. Hands down.

But my favourite part is the relationships they have with each another. The private jokes they share. The plotting and planning to get biccies when my back is turned. The secret clubs and hide-outs and spy games and rocket ships. The nights my daughter reads Where The Wild Things Are to the boys. The night I overhead Fin telling Quincy that he would put a forcefield around him so he need not be scared of the dark. The nights I hear all three of them in fits of laughter. And then there’s the way the boys look admiringly, adoringly at their big sister as though she flew to the moon and came back to tell the tale. Well until she walks into her bedroom, sees the mess they have made while she was at school and she yells, STOP TOUCHING MY LEGO!! (in a tone not dissimilar I’m sure to Kim Jong-Un) and then it’s on like Donkey Kong.

I always wanted a little gang. And – having suffered both a miscarriage and the stillbirth of my daughter Georgie over the past 10 years – not a day goes by when I take this gang of three for granted.

They are my people.

I am lucky.

Tired? Sure. Do I live in utter chaos? Undoubtedly. Every day I drop many of the balls I’m juggling. But I’m lucky.

My little gang brings me enormous joy.

So I’m sending much love to Prince William and Duchess Catherine.

Your gang of three awaits.

Filed Under: Motherhood // 0 Comments

The first six weeks …

April 19, 2018 // 0 Comments

When my daughter Ava was born I fell madly in love. But that beautiful baby girl nearly unravelled me. She never slept. EVER. And I began to lose my mind. I will never forget those first six weeks. A few months ago I was asked to write a letter to myself. What would I tell New Mum Me? If I could go back and give myself some advice, what would I say?

This is what I wrote…..

Dear Me

I want to cry for you.

That’s not helping, I know. I should start by saying “You look great!” or “Didn’t that kitchen reno turn out well! Smart thinking going for the pantry with the slide-out shelves!”

But you look exhausted. And overwhelmed. Plus you have – for the first time in your life – not one but two cold sores on your face from stress and lack of sleep. You look like shit. (Sorry).

Oh God, I want to cry for you.

Because this first six weeks with Ava – your first baby – is hard. No, hard doesn’t seem like a strong enough word. Let’s go for brutal.

When they placed her in your arms for the first time, you were flooded with love. Remember? I remember. You heart was bursting and all you could think was “I’m the one who gets to take her home!” as though you’d won some amazing raffle prize.

You were the happiest you have EVER been. You still are, but girl, right now you are also on the verge of collapse.

That beautiful little baby girl never sleeps. EVER. Well not for longer than 20 minutes anyway. During the night she cries and cries and cries unless you or Brad are walking her around the house. And you, my beautiful girl, are slowly beginning to unravel.

I want to cry for you.

Because you are mentally and emotionally drained. You’re trying so hard to follow that EASY routine (Eat Activity Sleep Your time) but that little baby is having none of it. She wants to feed every forty minutes. Her naps are brief and her crying? Her crying, crying, crying is breaking your heart.

I know all of it. I know that you have to wear her in a sling on your chest day AND NIGHT. I know how petrified you are to go to bed each night because you’re so tired you’re worried you might fall asleep while you’re walking around and around and around the lounge room and what if you drop her?

You’re madly Googling colic and intolerances and routines and crying babies for answers. These past few days you’ve been driving yourself mad wondering if she’s allergic to your breast milk. Your low point was this morning when you went into the chemist with this little baby strapped to your chest (she’s ALWAYS strapped to your chest), tears streaming down your face as you stood at the counter wondering what on earth to do. Brace yourself because in a few days a friend with a newborn includes you in a group email where she raves about how her daughter is already sleeping in loooooong stretches. You read your friend’s email and burst into tears.

I want to cry for you.

Because it’s really, really hard. We are living in Townsville with no family for hundreds of kilometers, all of your friends are back in Brisbane and you have a husband working nightshift as an obstetrician. You are so in love with your beautiful baby girl but so overwhelmed and so very tired. You feel so alone. It’s just you and you have no clue what you’re doing and you’re terrified you’re doing everything wrong.

So what I want to say to you is this: that little girl who never sleeps, well you wont’ believe this but she becomes an AMAZING sleeper. Better than that is she grows into the most glorious, enchanting, curious, hilarious young girl.

She is pure joy. Well, most of the time.

When she’s four-years-old you will routinely liken her to Stalin, Idi Amin and, yeah okay, Pol Pot but that was only because she gets a particularly severe haircut at the time and stamps her foot at you a lot. That’s also the year she whispers to you that she longs for Peter Pan to come to her window so she can fly with him and Tinkerbell to Neverland.

These days that little baby who always cries is the eight-year-old little girl who always smiles. Your days are spent unpacking playground dramas and reading Harry Potter together in bed when her little brothers have gone to sleep.

Her favourite place is still your lap. Her eyes search for you in every crowd. You bake gingerbread together and swim in the pool and go out for milkshakes and colour-in. She is funny and clever and kind and fierce. And messy – her Lego obsession is OUT.OF.CONTROL. But she is everything you ever wanted or hoped for in a little girl.

And those first six weeks are like some distant land.

So right now, that’s what I want you to know. Right now is hard but you can do this. At the 10-week mark that little pork chop starts to sleep (not through the night that’ll take a year… but in a few weeks she’ll start sleeping in much, much longer stretches). You will relax and so will she.

You’re going to make mistakes (after a visit to the park with your mothers’ group you put her to bed only to discover hours later she has an enormous brown leaf stuck to the roof of her mouth. Well done, you.) but EVERY new parent makes mistakes.

What I’m saying is – you’ve got this. HANG IN THERE.

Because in the coming weeks and months as the fog lifts and you feel more like yourself, you will truly see that being someone’s mum is like the best song you’ve ever heard. The best party you’ve ever been to.

It’s the beaming smile, the lit up eyes, the utter joy your 8-month-old baby has when you walk into her room first thing in the morning. It’s the lying together in the dark having a cuddle in bed with your four-year-old whispering about tomorrow and whether Madeline McKenzie is really going to bring a lizard to kindy.

It’s the puppet shows and the dance concerts, the netball practice and the stories. It’s the crayon pictures – where you’ve been depicted with pink hair and your head is strangely 18 sizes too big for your body – that will crowd out your fridge door. It’s the cuddles and hugs and kisses. The “you look so beautiful mama” comments when you know – actually – you’re so tired you look like your passport photo.

It’s the rituals and the traditions that you get to create or continue for your own little tribe. Her habit of saying “Hold my handle” or asking if fairies are inside the traffic lights turning them from red to green.

It’s the fact that this little person trusts you implicitly, loves you unconditionally and BELIEVES in you more than you would ever believe in yourself. It’s the continual moments and chances to show Who You Really Are.

It’s all of that. And then some.

Now sucks. I get that.

Is motherhood easy? Nope. Nopety-nope-nope.

But it is amazing. Just wait. The song, my dear girl, is about to begin.
*****

In a few weeks it’s Mother’s Day and a new book is being launched. “The Motherhood” is a collection of stories written by Australian women about what life is like with a newborn. The stories are funny, raw, tender and beautiful. Contributors include Jamila Rizvi, Zoe Foster Blake, Em Rusciano, Clare Bowditch and me plus a dozen other wonderful, authentic Australian women. If you know a new mum or a mum-to-be — this book will help them feel LESS ALONE in those hazy, often difficult first few months. Flowers for a new mum are nice. But this book is the literary equivalent of a mothers group and a big hug. I think it’s going to help thousands of women.

You can pre-purhcase The Motherhood here: http://bit.ly/2DvVbep

If you’re struggling with life with your baby and the world seems bleak — you are not alone. Please know that. Call PANDA for help. PANDA’s National Perinatal Anxiety & Depression Helpline
1300 726 306 9am – 7.30pm Mon – Fri (AEST/AEDT)

Filed Under: Motherhood // 0 Comments

Last night I saw the captain of the Australian Cricket Team cry on television …

March 30, 2018 // 0 Comments

We all screw up. Some bigger than others. Some just more public. I was thinking about Steve Smith last night and just wanted to say that while consequences are important, it’s equally important to remind ourselves (and our kids) that nothing has to ruin your life forever. History is full of people who were able to rebuild their lives and their careers after a public screw up . The public may not quickly forget but they will forgive if you are sincere and work hard to bring genuine meaning to your downfall. Never feel like life is worthless. Admitting to what you did and taking ownership (and accepting the consequences) is the first and biggest step.

I hope our Australian cricketers are surrounded by people who are looking out for their mental health. Ball tampering is cheating. No question there. But frankly, I’d also like to see this level of national outcry over sportsmen who commit acts of violence against women.

cb800f7afc96f982fee374e030c5f203 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nmLBrhiZxLU

Filed Under: Uncategorized // 0 Comments

Beware the drama cyclone …

March 29, 2018 // 0 Comments

This past month I’ve been talking to tween and teen girls about walking towards drama cyclones. Every time you join in gossiping about someone either online or in-person you’re actively walking into a drama cyclone. And when you get caught in one of those there are truly no winners. Mean-spirited gossip turns to bullying very quickly. The cyclone takes on a life of its own and cannot be stopped.

Most kids will tell you they actually want LESS drama at school. (With homework and tests and assignments and parents and sport and friends … the last thing you need is more drama). So it’s worth thinking about the decisions you make at school. Engage in gossip and you’re walking into the drama. Stop. Don’t get sucked into the cyclone!! SAVE YOURSELF!! Just walk away. Being on #teamgirls means having each other’s backs. And that means not participating in tearing other girls down.

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Filed Under: Ask Me Anything, Before You Hit Send, Find Your Tribe, Resources for teenage boys, Resources for tween and teen girls // 0 Comments