Two pink lines...

Two pink lines.

They mean so much.

In my case they spelt out ten weeks of constant nausea, vomiting, lack of appetite and an overwhelming sense of feeling sorry for myself.

Yes, I am pregnant!

It was with palpable excitement in early April that I lay in bed and watched the look of pure joy on my husbands face as I told him of our great news.

To be completely and utterly honest, until now, that was the ONLY time I have been excited during these last three months.

Being sick sure does know how to impede a party.

It hit me hard. I found myself buried under a sea of blankets as I tried not to move, lest the little that I managed to eat during dinner found its way out again.

I couldn’t write posts for my blog. I couldn’t enjoy anyone else’s. My son suffered, as I couldn’t give him the best of me.

I was so tired. Like a bear hibernating for the winter, I wanted to close my eyes and wake up smiling, already in my second trimester.

I kept telling myself to be grateful. Miscarriage is such a common occurrence that I should count my lucky stars all was going well. Feeling sick was a good sign, surely?

Hello in there!

Again, like my first pregnancy, almost overnight, nausea and exhaustion were replaced with nursery decorating ideas and a desire to spring clean. Names are now circulating through the recesses of my head and I’m starting to enjoy my swollen belly as it ceases hiding its secret within.

Due on the 27^th December, my fingers are crossed that we’ll have a bigger family and be home in time for Christmas.

What a precious gift!

The loss of a beautiful baby boy

After twenty hours of labour, through natural birth, a beautiful baby boy was born.

Imagine it. Have you been there? The birthing suite with the soft pastel walls, dim lighting, the soft hushed tones of the midwives, and the posters depicting tiny babies in their mothers arms, promoting "breast is best".

That final push before your baby will be in your arms at last!

Only there is no sound.

Only silence.

Silence broken by the hushed voice of the doctor, “I’m so sorry for your loss”.

I still cry when I think about it. 

I remember it like it was yesterday. My husband and I were out shopping. Our son Max, just three weeks old, lay sleeping in his pram, wrapped in layers of muslin, the labour still fresh in our memory.

My husband received the call. Our friend’s baby had died.

After twelve hours of excruciating labour, the baby’s heartbeat had stopped. It was unexplainable. The doctors declared that her baby had died “in-utero”.

Can you imagine how that must have felt? There was no time to process it. The contractions were still coming thick and fast. A baby needed to be born.

It was eight heart-wrenching hours after the shattering revelation, through harrowing contractions, when their son was finally born. He was gently wrapped in a hospital blanket, and placed upon her chest.

They never tell you how the feather light weight of a tiny newborn baby can crush your heart and soul.

What happens now?

Isn’t it every parents dream to take that first trip in the car with their baby, a trip home from hospital to their beautifully decorated nursery, where furniture, linen and toys have been chosen with thoughtful love and care.

What happens now?

A drive home in silence? A closed door at the end of the hall where dreams lay shattered behind it?

And then like a twisting knife in the chest, a cruel reminder that mother nature lays upon you, the milk that was intended for your baby arrives.

The sadness and grief my husband and I felt for our devastated friends poured over us like acid rain. We stood in David Jones, the sobs erupting from us both, causing shoppers to stop and stare. We didn’t care. At that moment we were overwhelmed with gratitude that our son had arrived safely and was alive and healthy.

As friends' of someone who has devastatingly dealt with the death of her baby, here are some reminders that may help to lessen the inevitable sadness that follows such a tragedy.

• Cry, as often and as long as you need to.
• Denial, isolation, anger and depression are all normal steps in the grieving process
• Fathers grieve too.
• We don’t have to face the world alone.
• Know that no one who hasn’t lost a baby can understand what it feels like.

The wonderful book What to Expect When You're Expecting has a really helpful chapter dedicated to the loss of a baby.

Like a gift from the angels, our friend is pregnant again with her second child. We know that this baby can never take the place of the one that was lost, but it will be just as loved and just as adored. By all.

Your comments below are always gratefully received.

a new baby!

12 weeks pregnant

Dear Percy,

It’s been nine months since we learned of you.  Like an innocent child on Christmas morning, we were overjoyed! A new addition to our fabulous family!

We loved you the minute we discovered you existed, but when we lay our eyes upon you for the first time, after so much waiting, the love we feel for you will be cemented for all eternity.

I’m giggly with anticipation! To feel the softness of your skin, to smell your purity that only a tiny baby exudes, to marvel at your perfection in miniature, as we gaze at your tiny rosebud fingernails, the size of which are difficult to comprehend.

Your grandparents, on both sides, are beside themselves with excitement! My heart softens when “Nana” comes home with more gifts for you. Not only are you in your parents’ dreams, but also your entire family are longing to hold you and discover you.

I wonder what you will look like? Will you have the handsome but striking features of your father? His piercing eyes? His clear complexion? Or will you have your mother’s luxurious dark hair and soft warm face?

Yesterday was the day we were told you would enter our lives. But you’re not here. Why? Is your delay a sign of character traits to come? Will you be the last to finish dinner, the one we need to shuffle along when we’re in a rush, the baby who sleeps all day and all night?

Your bedroom is ready. Hours have been spent planning and decorating to make sure you feel home. You belong here. You belong here with us.

Please come soon.

Love always, your Aunty Melissa, Uncle Chris, and cousin Max.

Please feel free to leave a message for Tony and Vanessa, the proud parents of Percy.

Coming home after a Caesarian

After devouring every paragraph on every page of every pregnancy book I could get a hold of, nothing prepared me for being told by the doctors at six in the morning that I needed an emergency caesarian to get my baby out. I was in shock. I had convinced myself that I could do this whole “natural child-birth” thing, only to have that shot to pieces.

After being wheeled in to theatre, being prepped for the procedure and then for my husband to materialize by my side, it seemed like a minute later I was being handed my baby. Caesarian? No big deal, right? Wrong!

We're both exhausted!

Caesarians are a MAJOR operation where numerous layers of your abdomen are sliced open. After an hour of recovery where I was not with my new baby or my husband, waiting to feel my legs again, I was finally wheeled back into my room only to be told I needed to start breastfeeding immediately. Three days later and I was literally being turfed out of hospital, hobbling along the corridor to our waiting car. Game on.

Have I ever told you how much I love my husband? He was so thoughtful in his planning for bringing his new family home after major surgery. Men are so worried that they won't be able to do anything to help us, yet their help can really benefit our experience. These are some of the things he did in preparation for my trip home (and some of the things your husband can do for you);

• Had a straight-backed chair for breastfeeding placed in the lounge-room with the yellow pages ready to place under my feet (keeps your back straight so your tummy doesn’t hurt)
• Bought 12 bottles of water to stock the fridge (you just can’t get enough water when breast-feeding)
• Pulled down all the bowls, plates and glasses from the high cupboards so I wouldn’t have to reach up to get them.
• Bought a waterproof stool for the shower and lifted my cosmetics up from under the sink so I wouldn’t need to reach down.
• Put block-out blinds in the bedroom so I could sleep during the day when the baby was sleeping.
• Stocked the cupboard with fresh fruit and veggies for me to snack on.
• Placed a box of tissues in every room of the house (in preparation for the baby blues!)
• Bought a mega-sized box of Paracetamol.
• Put flowers in every room of the house.

My hero husband

Looking back, it was a bloody hectic time, but thanks to my adorable husband, we got through it really well. With modern medicine as advanced as it is today, we just have to make sure we look after ourselves when we leave their care.

Find out more information about Caesarians here.

If you have any other great ideas or suggestions about recovery after caesarians, I'd love to hear them. Please leave your comments below for others to read.

Mothers Group...A social necessity?

I often wonder to myself; how many mums walk past a gathering of women cuddling their adorable little babies, prams parked nearby, sipping their latte’s and baby-chino’s in the local coffee shop, and feel a stirring of jealously? “I wish I was in that mothers group. They seem to be having so much fun”. I am one of those women.

After I had my baby, I couldn’t wait to join a mothers group. We had just moved to the area so we didn’t really know anyone and I was desperate for some adult interaction. Most of my friends from the city were childless and the ones who did have children lived far away.

I could feel the butterflies in my stomach as we walked to our first meeting. What would the other mums be like? Would they be my age? Would they be friendly? Could I see myself developing life-long friendships with these women?

At our first meeting I eyeballed about five women out of the nine that I thought, “yep, I’d like to have you as a friend”. Funnily enough, it is three of these women who I now keep in contact with occasionally. Unfortunately for me, these women have all gone back to work so it’s difficult to schedule a regular catch up.

The adorable Mother's Group babies.

But what happens when you don’t form any friendships with the other mums in your group? What happens when they don’t put in the same effort that you do when it comes to “catching up” and you’re left alone again?

This is the situation an acquaintance of mine was left in after her first child. She had moved interstate for her husbands work so mothers group was her only source of building potential friendships. Not one of the other mums seemed keen to meet regularly and so she was back to square one.

It can be such an isolating experience being a stay at home mum. I can vouch for the emotional roller coaster we often find ourselves on when friends with kids are not at hand to offer comforting support. It can be so difficult spending hour after hour with our baby (even though we love and adore them dearly) without the kindness of someone experiencing the same issues.

So what do you do when your mothers group doesn’t give you the support or friendships that you need? Well there’s Playgroup, but unless your little one is walking and talking to some extent, then Playgroup is a little premature. There are walking groups in some areas where mums can meet in a local park or walking track and spend time getting to know one another whilst burning off some calories. My son and I have started music lessons at Musicadabra and this has been a great source of adult interaction for me, meeting at least two really great mums.

I think it’s important for our single and/or childless friends to consciously remember that we still need them. I also strongly believe that every woman (or man) that we see in the park with their kids could be desperately searching for a new friend to call their own and we should always keep our hearts open to them.

Maybe it’s you? Maybe it’s me? Will you be my friend?

Please help support other mums and leave a comment about your experiences of trying to develop friendships after becoming a mum. It could really help someone.

Where did my boobs go?

“Gee Melissa!” My mother-in-law exclaimed in front of the rest of the extended family. “Your boobs have really dropped, haven’t they?”

I could feel six sets of eyes wandering over my t-shirt, where my boobs should have been.

In her defense, (and I have a wonderful mother-in-law), since I gave up breast-feeding six months ago, I’ve been wondering the same thing. Just exactly WHERE have my boobs gone? I’m sure what she really meant was, how deflated, floppy and reminiscent of old footy socks my breasts have become.

I was so lucky to have been one of those mothers who found breast-feeding easy and fairly enjoyable. My son seemed to know what he was doing (I was sure he studied “Baby Love” whilst in the womb), and I was lucky enough to make plenty of milk to keep him satisfied.

But just what exactly happens when we stop breast-feeding? Why do we all of a sudden feel like we are in mourning over the boobs we once had?

The team at FIA (Female Intelligence Agency) says, “Breast involution is a process where the milk-making system inside the breast shrinks because it is not needed anymore. This happens either after weaning, or right after pregnancy if the woman does not breastfeed at all, or during menopause. When the tissues inside the breast shrink, and the skin surrounding it doesn't, the breast can look "empty" and saggy. After weaning, a woman's body does usually deposit fat back to the breast (this process takes months), so that breasts will gain their pre-pregnancy size, but sagging usually remains” source

Yes, well, if I do say so myself, I think I had great breasts before I was pregnant. But I can honestly say that if it means I have a healthy baby boy with an iron-man immune system, and I was able to give him the best start in life, then I would happily give up my perky, fulsome breasts for deflated, saggy boobs any day. 

Bring on the push-up bra!

Thank you so much for taking the time to leave a message!

This is me...

This is me. I am a 37 year old wife and mother of one, although in my former life things were very different.


State Retail Manager of a wonderful company called Mimco, I thrived on juggling all the balls in the air of retail madness to achieve brilliant results for everyone. I loved proving to people that they could achieve anything they put their mind to, and that they were their own worst critic when it came to performance and success.


Which all seems a little funny now, as I write my first ever blog thinking to myself, "who on earth would want to listen to what I've got to say?".


The reasons for me to start "From Boardroom to Babies" are pretty simple. I feel isolated and lonely. Not all the time, but too much of the time not to do something about it. I've tried mother's group, play group, and everything in between, and although I've met some fantastic ladies and their adorable offspring, it's not enough for me.


These will be my heart felt accounts of a corporate ladder climbing woman turned full time stay at home mum. There will be tears (from my side anyway!), laughs, and hopefully friendships formed over that wonderful place we call the blogosphere!


Please feel free to write and comment, and I hope we bump into each other somewhere in the great land of internet.