The first year of one's life is quite momentous. Going from a squishy faced newborn with a bleating cry to a standing, cheeky, arm-waving, sweet-talking, tantrum-throwing toddler is no small feat, and it deserves a celebration to match, in my opinion!

I just read Ivy's birth story again. While it was the most 'straight-forward' of my labours, the intensity was unmatched in that last phase. I remember all too well the sensation of my body struggling to catch up to what had just happened to it! Most of all, I can't believe that my youngest child is now one year old. Now, the three are often off in cahoots together, wrestling, playing outside or playing finding games. The days were long and emotionally draining at times, but the year feels a complete blur.

Ivy was only six months old when I spied the cute black and white striped cupcake wrappers in Aldi. I snapped them up and determined to come up with a theme for her first birthday party that would tie in somehow. Enter the 'Jungle Safari' (heavy on the Zebra) theme.

I have a feeling that my party planning days might be numbered. The week before the party I switch into super-focused Event Planner mode. All the food in the fridge and pantry is somehow tied up in party preparations and every meal contributes somehow into the prepared feast. We decorate the house days before the celebration and all the chalkboards in the house are transformed into the relevant theme. Dave ends up escaping with the kids to give me space to cook and create and comes home exhausted from the switch in roles.

This time, though, he got a small taste of the satisfaction and excitement that comes with the joy of creating, by helping me assemble and construct the zebra cake. After the fire engine cake debacle, I admitted that I may be in need of some assistance in the structural area. So Dave scrutinised the template, brandished his knife and fashioned a zebra shape. The fondant icing was more forgiving this time around and we ended up with a cake to be proud of and a shared experience to celebrate.

I have a thing with wasting food. I hate doing it, and I also struggle with spending too much money on catering. Every recipe must be cost-effective and crowd-friendly, and preferably tie in somehow to the over-arching theme. I went with homemade pizzas (Chicken, Feta & Bacon, Salami & Marinated Zucchini and Greek Lamb) as the main event, with Tuna & Cucumber Sushi, Cheese Burek, snake sandwiches (ham and cheese offerings arranged in a spiral), Sausage Rolls and Antipasto. For sweets, Zebra Strawberries (dark chocolate dipped, with white drizzled stripes- thanks to Pat!), Fruit Skewers (courtesy of Laura), Chocolate Dip (Loren's creation), Rocky Road (my Mum's secret recipe with Clinkers as the surprise ingredient), Banana Pudding, Marscapone Brownies, Chocolate and Walnut Meringues and Jungle Cupcakes. As for beverages, Watermelon Mojito (very clearly labelled this time, after the 'Barney fiasco' of Hudson's party!), Jungle Juice and the usual beer/cider/soft drinks.

Thankfully my Mum and Dad came over to help out about an hour before the party, as my kitchen looked like this:

As for the birthday girl, she had such a good nap in the morning that I thought she was out with Dave and the boys and was surprised when they burst in from the car without her! Ivy did her usual bury her head in your neck move when she saw the crowd, but was very happy to socialise from the security of our arms. She spent much time being hand fed chocolate covered strawberries by Pa, and promptly rewarded him with a nappy bomb. Eli took about five minutes to feel comfortable enough in the crowd to strip down to his undies, and he and Chase tore around the place in their imaginary world, fighting baddies and being superheroes- fueled by pure chocolate, of course! Hudson was stoked to see his favourite friends Nick and 'Lawla' arrive, and exclaimed with pure joy when he saw them from across the room. Eli, Hudson and Chase were moved to awe by the 'Transformer' convertible car of Loren's and spent a fair amount of time spellbound in the vehicle.


I spent the majority of the party where I always do- in the kitchen! At one point Jam tried to usher me out, but I really do enjoy bustling about, feeding people, watching the hum and excitement from a little way back. Bringing people together over food, celebrating life together, to a 'vintage adventure' soundtrack is pretty close to perfect in my book.

Dearest Ivy,

You make me smile every day. 

When I open your bedroom door and you look up in surprise from playing games with Teddy as though 'I was just fine here, Mum!'. When you wave your arms vigorously up and down, eye-balling the necessary item, making urgent noises to convey your desperate need. Your love of the outdoors and lightning-fast bee-line for the door as soon as it opens even a crack. You have already figured out how to open the door for yourself because you are independent like that. You have such a look of pride when you loom up from the ground, standing strong in a wide stance like you could conquer the world. I hope that you do someday. 

I love the way you tell us 'stories' already, with the proper inflection and facial expressions. I can't wait to hear more of what is inside your mind. You have an incredible sense of humour, responding with cheekiness and a contagious laugh whenever there is a game of peek a boo or hide and seek. 

You know what you want already, making your acute distress unknown whenever your brothers decide they want to play with a toy that was in your grasp. I think you'll be able to stand up to them just fine! You three are inseparable, wrestling, laughing, being cheeky together. I hope that you will continue this friendship forever. 

Your Dad and I are pretty smitten by you and so proud of the person that you are already. We look forward to seeing more of the woman inside and celebrating with you at every step of the way. 

Love always, 

Mum

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My introduction into motherhood was pretty easy. Eli was the 'perfect' textbook baby, sleeping when I put him down in his cot and happily achieving each milestone when expected. He was interactive, had a contagious smile and could be carted along anywhere without much fuss.

Then Hudson came along. With the labour from hell, the week in special care, the silent reflux, groin hernia, hip dysplasia, constant crying, sleep resistance and general aversion to playing with any sort of toy or baby item, to say that I was in shock would have been putting it mildly. That whole year is a blur to me, but I know that I wasn't in a good place emotionally.

I went from relishing motherhood and embracing it as a significant part of my identity, to wondering if I was even a passable mother as I numbed my soul to the sound of crying, because to acknowledge the constant distress would be to allow my fragile framework to be destroyed from within. Trying to smile at and coax a constantly crying baby to be happy is a mission doomed to failure, from my experience. I eventually just stopped trying.

Looking back, I realise that Hudson was in a constant state of agony and I can see it so clearly in those fogged eyes haunting me from the photos. After the hernia operation it really was like we were meeting 'Hudson' for the first time, as he became the cheeky, happy, funny kid that we know today. But the damage was already done.

Thankfully for Hudson, Dave was an incredible parent during that first year and the bond that he has with his son is a testament to that. Hudson is unashamedly 'Daddy's boy' and would happily follow him around doing whatever Dave is doing at that moment. Sure, it drives Dave crazy at times, but I'm just so grateful that my emotional lack hasn't seemed to have stunted his ability to connect with people.

A lot of the baggage from this experience has become more clear as I engage with the day to day realities of having a baby again. Ivy has been incredibly easy (apart from a month long resistance to naps of any decent length) and it has been a mostly enjoyable experience, but there are moments when her cry will put me right back into that dark room with the creaky floorboards in which I spent hours pleading with and hissing at Hudson to go back to sleep. My stress levels will suddenly shoot up and it will take every ounce of self control not to respond in anger to an innocent cry.

I've also noticed it in my level of comfort in holding and embracing a baby. Initially, I found myself reacting out of pure utility- feed, burp, put down to sleep. Now, six months in, I'm really enjoying just holding Ivy and experiencing the closeness of her company, holding her smooth, chubby cheek against mine and drinking in her scent.

Actually, the whole process of having Ivy has been incredibly redemptive with my relationship with Hudson. Because my brain in the area of affection and bonding is being positively rewired, I find myself reaching out for Hudson more and he is responding more positively to me as a result.

The labour experience with Ivy was the polar opposite to my struggles in the previous birth and this time I felt heard, acknowledged and taken seriously in relation to my concerns about neverending 'false labour' and the risk to the baby in terms of infection.

I'm so thankful for this redemptive experience with Ivy and the healing that has taken place in my psyche as a result. The triggers of emotional dysfunction provide a meaningful way for me to address the root causes and work through the issues and bad habits I've wired my brain into.

Stacey Kramer, a TED speaker, gave a moving 3 minute talk entitled 'The Best Gift I ever Survived' in which she described all the positive and life changing consequences that came as a result of a golf ball sized brain tumour. Her final line was so poignant: "the next time you're faced with something that's unexpected, unwanted and uncertain, consider that it just may be a gift".

Sickness, trauma, pain...  it certainly isn't something you would seek out in life, yet often it can have the most profound impact and catapult your emotional growth tenfold...and increase your empathy for others in similar situations. Despite the shattering experiences we went through in that first year with Hudson, I can truly say that I do not regret going through any of it.

It's no secret that Ivy is a fairly poor napper.

I'm sure in years to come I will reread this post and pompously wonder how I could attach so much importance and energy to this fact, but right now, when a portion of up to 1.5 hours a day is spent monotonously patting a sleepless baby, desperately willing her to go back to the land of slumber, it's fair to say that it is high on my priority list for change.

And let's be honest- if you ask me in a year how Ivy was as a baby, I'll be sure to vaguely reply, "Oh Ivy? Yeah I think she was a fine sleeper? She has had great naps in the last three days so she must have always done that, right?" Motherhood: faithfully providing the perspective of a goldfish.

It didn't help that yesterday, while feeling achy and fluey and looking at the couch with desperate eyes, Ivy did her usual one cycle then wake up screaming routine. I reluctantly hauled myself to her room to settle her and began the monotonous "Shhhhh....pat...pat... pat...Shhhhh" and flicked open Facebook to see that the first article was a confessional about how an angelic mother loves waking up in the night to her baby because time is so short, and blah, blah, blah. Don't get me wrong, this time around, I feel like I was a lot more laissez faire about the whole night sleeping thing and didn't get caught up at all in how quickly Ivy would be able to go from 7-7... But I am also a massive control freak and if there is a way I can help my baby sleep earlier, then I'm sure as hell going to try that!

And day sleeps, they are a whole different story... Just try exuding that encompassing bliss when you are sitting in a dark room with a freezing hand, wincing while listening to CRASH! BANG! GIGGLE! WAIL! on repeat in the living room from two gung ho preschoolers... 

The article wasn't even really that bad, it was the comments from mothers desperate to prove how loving and empathetic they are... Gushing about how they love every single minute with their baby and they would never even think to get frustrated from a refusal to stay asleep.

Let's just say the whole self-comparison thing wasn't helpful at that moment and I didn't exude the patience of a saint... Or any of the aforementioned mothers. Dave may or may not have received a few expletive laden texts. I doubt he even blinks anymore when he picks up his phone to see my (completely rational) tirades!

In the end, to my surprise, Ivy actually managed to put herself to sleep, very soon after I stormed out of the room to give myself a break. But I wasn't exactly clamouring to watch back the tapes of my petulance. 

Now, here I am at 3:00am, with the insomnia of someone who studiously thought putting herself to bed at 8pm was the ideal way to beat this dastardly flu. The house is dead quiet and I have all the perspective that I need now (apart from the rhythmic grumble of Dave's snoring) to process my reactions. 

One of my great fears is that my children will see me as cold, hard, controlling. And that version of myself comes right to the fore when I'm attempting to bend an overtired baby to my will. I am not naturally what you would describe as 'maternal' and I have strong ideas about how my children should behave and sleep. Having the juxtaposition of the sensitive, empathetic, patient mother-types at that moment just made me ashamed that I wasn't more like that.

I'm not even sure whether I should be aiming to further my strengths as a mum, or just assimilate my identity into the traditional stereotype. I have a hunch that God made us all different for a reason, and that being true to your own style of parenting is important... But I don't want to use that as a licence to be a hard ass either. 

Something tells me I may still be working out the ideal balance through my whole parenting life. In the meantime, it is almost 4am and sleep continues to elude me... Better go work on that!