I love chocolate.  It’s my one big vice.  I don’t drink, smoke or gamble but I do eat lots of chocolate.

This morning on twitter, Dr Mehmet Oz revealed a link between over consumption of chocolate and depression.  Nah really?  I could have told you that.

It’s a simple equasion.  Chocolate contains endorphins which make you feel happy, granted only temporarily, still you feel good.  When you’re depressed, chocolate can be a source of feeling better.  Sadly, the side effects of chocolate can be a bit nasty, weight gain is one of them.

My experience with chocolate self medication was after Little Miss was born.  Every day I needed chocolate.  I had already endured 6 months of undiagnosed pregnancy depression and was yet to be diagnosed with Post natal depression.  The chocolate was the one way of getting energy and dampening those bad feelings.  Slowly the chocolate habit did die down and eventually I did get diagnosed and medicated.

Now my chocolate habit isn’t as bad.  Yes there is a block of chocolate in the fridge, only a third is eaten where as before it would have all been gone by now.

So will you be giving you mum and/or partner chocolate for Mother’s Day (only 4 sleeps away)?

Em.

PS, I really should have bought shares in lindt or cadbury..

PPS.  I am quite partial to Jaffa flavoured chocolate items. HINT HINT!

I didn’t like yesterday’s footy game.  It’s not because we lost.  It’s because we had so many injuries.  I’m not talking about grazes and bruises, I’m talking about broken wrists, badly sprained ankles and a knee that was bending funny.  Not good.

Today is the big photo shoot.  Unfortunately one of my models had to drop out due to car issues but the other is on her way.  I’m a little bit nervous about this and I still haven’t done my hair.  Luckily my photographer is awesome.

Also, apparently tonight I’m going to be on TV.  A little while ago, I was interviewed for a show on channel 31 on my experience with Post Natal Depression and tonight it’s being aired.  This makes me even more nervous.  I can’t remember what I was saying but I know my hair was bad due to wind and chasing Little Miss around the park, diverting her from running into the lake.

I’ll let you know how it all goes.

Em.

Yesterday I was rabbiting on about research stuff that I didn’t like.  Today I going to mention some results of some studies conducted in Miami by Tiffany Field.

In a brief search on google scholar, I found several studies concluding massage during pregnancy is great for the mother.  This I already knew and had experienced.  What I also discovered was mothers who received massage regularly throughout their pregnancy were less likely to go into labour prematurely, had easier labours (now who doesn’t want that!) and were less likely to have post natal depression (another bonus!).  WOW!  Also, because the mothers have been happier and healthier during their pregnancies, their babies were also less likely to have a low birth weight and were less stressed.  Hmm.  Happy and healthy mum equals happy and healthy baby.  I don’t think there are many pregnant women out there who don’t want a happy and healthy baby do you?

Which makes me wonder why this information isn’t being shouted from the heavens.  Granted it’s great for my business to have this kind of study results, but you’d think midwives and doctors would almost be prescribing it too.

So start spreading the word.  Massage during pregnancy has the potential to make labour easier, baby’s happier and gives mum a chance to feel great.

Yes, this is the kind of research I like to hear about.

Enjoy!

Em.

So for the sake of my sanity, Little miss was breastfed to sleep initially and eventually just cuddled.  She still gets a cuddle to sleep.  I’ve also had the guilt’s about this until something was mentioned by a friend.  She was telling me about her niece and how because of her strong personality and curiosity, won’t sleep.  She doesn’t want to miss out on anything.  This description was almost a perfect match to Little Miss.  Even the health nurses said when Little Miss was tiny, that she was an aware baby.

So with my story said, I’ll say this.  Do what feels right for you and gets what you need.

Now on with other news.  I had a day of time out.  Another essential service for mums that is lacking.  Real exciting stuff.  I got my hair cut, purchased red shoes and had a photo shoot complete with hair and make up.  I’ve also got a massage instead of just giving them and I was way overdue for it.

So in the interest of sanity and time out, I’m going to tell you about an event in may.  It’s the Mum’s Night Out brought to you by real mums.  See the website www.mumsnightout.com.au to find out more about it and book your tickets.  I’m going and I can’t wait. 

See you there.

Em.

Still, the world keeps turning and I’ve been working.  Always a good thing.  Most people complain about going to work but I love it and getting paid is a bonus.  Which is something I’ve been thinking about lately.  So I ask you, what job would you happily do, even if you didn’t get paid?

When I was studying my diploma we were told massage can only be worked on a part time basis.  This is mainly to prevent injury and needing more massages than you give.  The most I could ever work on clients is 25 hours a week.  This doesn’t include the time I take cleaning, paper working and linen washing.  I’m telling you this as a result of a conversation  yesterday.  Another natural therapist and I were discussing what we charge for a session.  I charged more than her and she looked surprised that I get clients.  Why do I charge more?  Simple, I can’t work full time hours but have the same bills as everyone else, I have spent time post training to increase my knowledge in my specialised field, and because I’m worth every cent!  This is not a vanity thing either.  In fact I charge less than the local beauty therapists charge for a relaxation massage but I have more skills.  I genuinely care about all my clients and you do get what you pay for.  My massages can potentially be claimed back on private health insurance too.

So what are you worth?  Are you charging your customers and clients enough?

A few posts ago I mentioned a little adventure I had with Amanda (Mad Cow) and Renee (Bra Queen).

Well it’s time to tell you what it’s about.

To show my support of depression awareness, a portrait of me was taken showing my “support” i.e. my bra.  Given that one in 5 (that’s 20%) of the population suffers from depression, there really isn’t much awareness of the condition that can kill.  From my own experience, it’s terrifying.  The constant cloud of doom and feeling like everything was grey.  The way your energy is zapped and not being able to “just snap out of it” is horrible.

I was recently talking to a friend and she was feeling just like I was when pregnant.  She wasn’t even aware of the services available.  I don’t think I’ve written downs a bunch of phone numbers so quickly.

So for her sake, every-one’s sake and my own:

I’M SHOWING MY SUPPORT!

Showing my support

Thanks Maree for the awesome photos!

So I now ask you to join in and show your support by either writing a post about depression and adding a photo of you in your support, join the facebook group or leave a comment of support. 

There’s no point keeping depression in the dark.  Bring depression out in the open!

I’ve also been rebooked for the Cairnlea Community Hub baby massage classes again in Feb.  I love these classes, just seeing the change in resposes by the bub to mum massaging.  It’s warm fuzzy stuff really.  It’s also a fabulous way for mums to bond with their babies.  Eventually, they will ask for massages, just like my little miss does.

I started looking into the effects of massage on depression (a subject very close to my heart) and there are some interesting studies.  When I get my head around the jargon I’ll let you know the results.  So far it’s mostly positive.

So until next time.

Em.

ASK FOR HELP.  This won’t kill you.  You’re not a failure or a bad mum for asking.  In fact just the opposite and you’ll be amazed at what people will do for you.

Places to start are GP and Maternal and Child Health Centre.  These can both provide you with referrals to specialists.  In my case I was referred to the pnd counselling program with baptcare and later down the track medication.

Next, start telling your family.  Seems dumb but you will need their help.  If this isn’t an option, start recruiting people you do trust.

Form a network of help.  Your family is a good place to start but neighbours and friends can also be a part.

Check if your local council offers programs and services.  Some have pram walking groups and play groups.  If this is your thing.

Eat well.  Small thing, big impact.  Try to eat a variety of healthy foods and regularly.  At least three normal meals.

GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!!!  Can’t stress this enough.  Put bubs in the pram and start exploring the neighbourhood.  Walk to the shops and have a cuppa.  Weather bad?  Head to a large shopping centre and do laps.  The combination of civilisation and exercise lifts your mood.

Talk to your partner about how you feel and how they can help.

Another controversial option is using childcare.  In my case using this was the reason I didn’t end up in a mental institution or jail.  We initially used family day care three afternoons a week which was enough for me to have a break, lunch, a shower and maybe a snooze.  After a while this was built up to all day when I returned to part time work.

Inevitably, there are people out there who will try to make you feel bad about the choices you have made.  Here’s the answer.  Tell them they’re not the mum here and you’ll do what suit you and your bub.  If they get narky, don’t let it get to you.  That’s their problem.

Lastly, find a reason to go out for dinner or lunch or whatever regularly without bubs (and possibly with out partner) so you can reconnect with your old self.

These things are what I do mostly to get through the gray times and I’m by no means an expert.  I’d gladly take any suggestions too.

Good luck.

In other news, Christmas tree has been put up and decorated at last.  Little Miss had a ball with the decorations.

Em.

Today I’ve decided to tell the story of how I came to have PND. 

For those out there who don’t know what PND is it stands for Post (or now Peri) Natal Depression.  It’s a form of depression association with pregnancy and new motherhood.  My doctor described it as an imbalance of hormones, my osteo said it was caused by a combination of sacral (tailbone) misalignment and stress to the spine during active labour.  Other mums say its from extreme sleep deprivation.  I’m sure there are other explanations for the condition and as I’m no expert I can only tell you what I experienced.

I can tell you exactly when my depression started.  It was the 23rd of January 2007 at about 3:30pm.  Precisely the same moment my then doctor (I have since changed and you will soon see why) declared me pregnant.  This was followed by me swearing.  The doctor then asked if it wasn’t my husbands (it better be!!!) and that we hadn’t planned the pregnancy.  Ah well NO!!!  She then raced into why I had to have an ultrasound immediately as I could be anywhere up to 5 months along and we needed to decide if the pregnancy was going to proceed.  Also because I’d had bleeding, this wasn’t a good sign.  WHAT?!

Still reeling from the revelation of being pregnant, the doctor then asks if I’ve been taking pregnancy vitamin supplements.  No I hadn’t.  Apparently I should have been on them for at least a month prior.  She asked if I had had any alcohol or soft cheeses or deli products.  I had and was then told how that could have caused issues with the baby too.

So there I was sitting alone in the doctors office having gone because I was tired all the time and not feeling quite right thinking I probably had glandular fever only to find out I was pregnant and having a guilt trip dumped on me.

In a state of shock, I sat in my car in the car park trying to call hubby.  He wouldn’t answer the phone, kept going to voicemail.  Left a message along the lines of why doesn’t he answer the phone when I really need him.

Start to drive home in tears.

Get home to wait for my parents to arrive from the airport.  Hubby rings.  Wail down the phone that I was pregnant.  He then had to find someone to drive him home.  Was told to keep parents from leaving before he got home.

About an hour after all this my parents arrive to find me sitting on the couch howling.  Tell them I was pregnant.  Mum starts crying, Dad sits down.  The rest of the day is a bit of a blur but the folks stay the night instead of heading straight home.

The next morning, I somehow manage to get in to have my first of many ultrasounds.  Hubby couldn’t attend as he had walked out of work without telling anyone what was going on.  My mum came with me and held my hand.  On the screen was a 10 week old foetus.  10 weeks old.  Um, how did I miss that?  My mum was saying things like, how lucky I am that I didn’t have to worry for the first trimester and how lucky I was not to have any morning sickness, but I wasn’t listening.  I had a printout of my scan and I was freaking out.

I also need to tell you about my family history.  When a pregnancy is discovered, the whole family holds their breaths.  Our track record isn’t great.  So not only did I have the guilt trip from the doc, but I also had a family waiting to see if the pregnancy and I survived.

To cut a long story short.  I spent most of my pregnancy crying and feeling really bad.  But I didn’t tell anyone just how bad I was feeling.

After Little Miss’s difficult birth, I was being watched very carefully by the ward nurses and when I started to see the health centre nurses, I was being monitored closely.  I didn’t really realise this until later.  It wasn’t until I was going to mums group every week and crying that the health nurses sat me down and said it was time I started counselling.  I didn’t think they had noticed just how bad I was.  I was wrong. 

After 18 months of counselling and eventually agreeing to meds, I’m much better.  Still have bad days but not as bad or as long lasting as before.

So the question of whether I would have had pnd if the pregnancy was planned?  Dunno.  Probably but it might have started later.

Thanks for reading this.  Next time I’ll pop some of the recommended ways to start feeling better that I’ve used.

Em.

I’m Emma.  I’m Hand Print Massage.

Today I decided it was a day of action.  I decided it was time to actually get organised and start blogging my musings about my world, not just massage.

What you will not read on here is who my clients are or their medical conditions.  I might discuss what I’ve seen come through my clinic regularly but nothing specific.  (This is to protect my clients personal and health information and to protect me as well.)

Anyway.  Here’s some info on me.

I started Hand Print Massage in it’s first incantation in 2004 when I was still studying.  I was giving very basic relaxation massages to friends and family.  This was the case until I graduated with a diploma of remedial massage at the end of 2006.  I had just landed a job with a footy team and was about to set up in business when I discovered I was pregnant.  Oops.  That wasn’t planned.  So I had to turn down the job with the footballers and put my business on hold for a bit.  Ah well.  Then one day whilst in the shower (all the best ideas seem to come there) I realised there weren’t many massage therapists in my area who specialised in pregnancy, post natal or infant massage.  Infact whilst I was pregnant, I drove an hour for massages.  Later that same day, I decided to take a walk through the local shopping centre.  Every third woman who walked past me was pregnant or had just had a baby.  So Hand Print Massage for Mums was born.

A year later I’m still in business (YAY!!!) and I’ve met some wonderful women and babies.  Looking forward to meeting more.

Other info.  I have a little girl who is 2.  I have two dogs. I’m a PND survivor.  I’m passionate about learning cultural influences around pregnancy and motherhood.  I love chocolate and I don’t drink.

I’ll write more again soon.

EM.

Hand Print Massage