When Lucy Baker was five months pregnant with her third child, a mum on the school playground exclaimed rather bluntly: “But you’re going to be 47 when the baby starts school!”
It wasn’t the first negative comment she’d faced since revealing she was pregnant at 42 – other “judgy, thoughtless comments” she’d been on the receiving end of included, “Why are you having another baby?” and “Was it a mistake?”
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But the comment on the school playground really stuck with her.
At the time, she says she was “aghast”, but she later turned her negative experience into a positive, launching her blog the Geriatric Mum, which celebrates older mums.
“It’s been a real driver for me in some ways because I thought: you know what, I’ll bloody show you,” Baker, who lives in Lincolnshire and has three children aged 13, 10 and four, tells HuffPost UK.
Fast forward five years and Baker’s youngest child is set to start school in September.
To honour the occasion and “show the world how great being an older mummy can be,” the confidence coach plans to wear a gold, sparkly dress to drop him off on his first day.
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The idea came about while she was doing a panel talk in London and was wearing the gold dress in question. “I talked about the Geriatric Mum story and the fact my son starts school in September,” she recalls.
“I said to the audience: ‘Actually I should do something big on the day, should I wear this gold dress?’ And the whole place cheered, so I thought: Well, I’ve committed to it now.”
Baker plans to wear the dress as a way of sticking two fingers up to society’s ageist views – which especially impact women.
“I want to do it as a celebration of geriatric mums – and for me and my little boy,” she says.
There is a deeper message she wants to convey by getting parents, particularly mothers – both on the playground, and reading this article – considering their actions towards others.
“As a geriatric mum, I’m trying to spread the message of: please don’t judge other women for their life circumstances, their choices, their situations because it’s really boring and actually hurts – these words stick,” she says, referring back to the comments she received during her pregnancy.
“I get messages on Instagram and women are feeling judged because of their age. It’s still happening and those labels are 100% out there.”
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She adds: “I was really judged and nobody knows what I was feeling behind the scenes or what I’d been through to have my third child. Nobody knows what anyone else is going through.
“The journey to pregnancy is so unknown, but people are still judging other people for the age they have their children.
“I just want people to hold back on that judgement and pause for a minute and think: I don’t know that person’s story, so why am I judging them?”
But above all, she wants people to know she’s “loving being an older mum” – and endeavours to give other women who are striving to become mothers in their 40s hope.
“I’m in a great place in my life, I’m confident, I’m happy,” she says. “Motherhood is tricky whatever age – it’s really difficult, it can be very hard work, it changes your life. But I’m loving it – and I want the message to be: it can be glorious no matter how old you are.”
You’re reading Between Us, a place for parents to offload and share their tricky parenting dilemmas. Share your parenting dilemma here and we’ll seek advice from experts.
Raising a toddler can be a wild ride. One moment they’re telling you they love you, the next you’re dislodging a small plastic sheep that’s been launched across the room from your head (just me?).
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As they grow up and understand more of the world, they will test the water with all manner of behaviours – colouring on the floor; hitting; or even *checks notes* removing their nappy and pooing or weeing all over their bed.
Such is the case for one anonymous HuffPost UK reader, who shared their parenting dilemma with us:
Our toddler recently started taking their nappy off in the cot and then peeing or pooing all over their bed. We do a whole bedtime process including reading books, singing lullabies and then we will tell them it’s time to sleep and leave the room. In the past, they would go to sleep at this point, however just recently they’ve started to undress themselves and will pull their nappy off and then urinate or poo in the bed, including on the duvet, sheets and pillows. It’s happened at nap time and bedtime. What is the best way to respond to this behaviour? And how can we prevent it from happening, as it seems to be developing into a habit?
The good news is that this is pretty normal toddler behaviour.
“It is common for toddlers to exhibit behaviours that may seem challenging or unconventional as they navigate their development,” says Hendrix Hammond, systemic and family psychotherapist and spokesperson for the UK Council for Psychotherapy (UKCP).
First of all, the parent might want to ask themselves why the toddler might be doing this. What’s the motivation here?
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“Your toddler might be exploring boundaries. In this case, removing the nappy and urinating or defecating in the bed might be a form of experimentation or a way for your toddler to exert independence,” Hammond tells HuffPost UK.
“Furthermore, your toddler might recognise that this behaviour elicits a particular response from you as parents, which serves them an unconscious need.”
So, what can they do?
1. Reconsider their clothing choices
One relatively simple solution could be to try bed-wear that’s more difficult for the child to remove, such as onesies with poppers at the shoulders.
This can act as a deterrent and make it harder for them to access and remove their nappy.
2. Try positive reinforcement
When the toddler goes through a nap time or bedtime without removing their nappy, the therapist recommends parents acknowledge and praise their behaviour.
“Positive reinforcement can help motivate them to keep the nappy on,” he adds.
3. Get them to help with cleaning up
If the toddler does happen to wee or poo in their bed as a result of removing their nappy, the therapist suggests involving them in the cleanup process.
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“This helps them understand the consequences of their actions and fosters a sense of responsibility,” he explains.
4. Stick to routines
Familiarity can help reduce anxiety and unpredictability, which may contribute to this type of behaviour, so the therapist recommends keeping bedtime routines consistent.
5. Communication
Sometimes it can help to simply sit down with a toddler and talk about their actions simply and clearly. “Explain that nappies must stay on during sleep and that accidents can create messes,” Hammond suggests.
6. Speak to a GP
If the parent tries all of the above strategies and the behaviour persists, Hammond advises them to speak to a GP, who can assess whether underlying physical or emotional factors might contribute to their toddler’s behaviour.
7. Be patient
Easier said than done, we know, but Hammond notes that “with a combination of understanding, consistent guidance, and potentially seeking professional advice, you can work towards helping your toddler develop healthy habits”.
If there’s one thing we all know about life, it’s that nothing is ever simple. We all make mistakes, things inevitably go wrong, so how is best to react when these issues do crop up? And how can we, as parents, help our kids navigate these tricky waters?
Caroline Leaf is a cognitive neuroscientist, mental health expert, and mum of four. She recommends something called ‘the Neurocycle’ which is essentially five steps for mind-management when things go wrong, that both parents and children can use.
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Leaf, who authored the book How to Help Your Child Clean up Their Mental Mess, explains that the Neurocycle is a five-step process that harnesses the brain’s ability to change and can help children develop their mental resilience and manage their mental health.
“A great way to explain this process to your child is by telling them that the Neurocycle is like having a superpower, one that they can use throughout their life when they feel sad, when they’re mad or upset, or even when they are happy and just want to learn something new,” Leaf tells HuffPost UK.
It’s all about transforming negative or disruptive thinking patterns into healthy thoughts and habits.
“We all have ‘messy’ minds as we manage the daily struggles of life,” she says. The Neurocycle is a way to control that “mess” and “optimise resilience with brain-boosting strategies and practices like gratitude, joy and kindness”.
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What are the steps?
1. Gather awareness
Gain a comprehensive understanding of how you’re feeling mentally and physically.
“Consider any warning signals that take shape through your behaviour, because this means your body is trying to tell you something important,” says Leaf.
2. Reflect
This bit is all about taking a step back and considering why you’re feeling the way you do.
3. Write, play or draw
Organise your thinking and reflections to gain insight.
“For adults and older kids or teens, write down your reflections. For younger children, it might make more sense to draw or play to bring subconscious feelings to light,” says the neuroscientist.
4. Recheck
Once you’ve created a clearer picture of how you’re feeling, accept the experience and think about how you can view it in a new light, so it no longer controls how you feel.
5. Active reach
This involves a thought or activity that distracts you from the negative emotions and keeps you from getting stuck with your toxic patterns.
How do I do this with my kids?
First, help your child gather awareness of how they are feeling by observing their warning signals more deeply. For example:
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“I feel worried and frustrated” = emotional warning signal.
“I have an upset tummy” = bodily sensation warning signal.
“I want to cry and not talk to anyone” = behaviour warning signal.
“I hate school” = perspective warning signal.
Now, walk them through the reflecting stage, helping them consider why they feel this way, and then write, play or draw what they feel, which will help them better understand what their warning signals are pointing to.
During this stage you can encourage them to ask themselves questions like: Why do I feel sad and frustrated? Why is my tummy sore? Why do I want to cry and not talk to anyone?
The fourth step, recheck, requires parents to encourage children “to explore their feelings and thoughts and try to find a way to make what happened to them better,” says Leaf.
So, for example, if a child is worried about a bully, you could offer them another way to look at it. Leaf suggests you could say something like: “Maybe the bully is dealing with some issues at home, or maybe someone else is bullying them.
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“All of their frightened energy is resulting in them treating you in an unkind way. That doesn’t make it right, but it may help you feel sorry for them and walk away without feeling bad about yourself.”
And lastly, active reach is a bit like taking a treatment or medicine each day to help their thinking and feelings get better.
“Help your child come up with ways they can do this when they are feeling overwhelmed or unwell,” suggests Leaf.
“This step is characterised by actions and things your child can do that are pleasant and happy, which stabilise what they have learned and anchor them in a peaceful place of acceptance.”
The last step is all about teaching children to try and look for solutions instead of getting “stuck in their emotions”, concludes the neuroscientist, which is important for building their mental resilience.
Back-to-school season is full of anticipation for both kids and parents. New teachers, new routines and new friends are all exciting but can also provoke anxiety for everyone involved.
HuffPost asked therapists who work with parents about what issues they tend to bring up this time of year. Here’s what they said.
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Kids’ learning needs
Though few pandemic-related educational shifts were positive, one potentially helpful development was that when students learned at home, parents got a chance to see what was going on in their classrooms and how well their particular academic needs were being served.
Post-pandemic, many parents’ awareness of these issues – and their stress levels – is still heightened.
“Parents got to see: This is how my child learns. This is how my child engages with their classroom,” Mercedes Samudio, a licensed social worker and author of Shame-Proof Parenting, told HuffPost.
As a new school year begins, some parents may worry that their children will run into issues they’d faced in previous years or that a teacher won’t be attentive to their child’s particular learning needs.
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Though it’s important to keep in mind any issues a child has had at school, it’s also critical to give each new relationship the benefit of beginning with a blank slate.
A different teacher or a different mix of students may bring out a side of your child you haven’t seen before. Also, don’t underestimate how much your child matures and changes from one year to the next.
Just because something was an issue in first grade doesn’t mean it will continue in the second grade.
Since you won’t be at your child’s side listening to what the teacher has to say, the best way to stay up-to-date with how things are going in the classroom is to have regular check-ins with your child.
“I’ve always encouraged family meetings. But I think having weekly check-ins, especially during the beginning of the school year, helps everyone to feel supported and set up,” Samudio said.
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Your child will know they have this space to let you know about any issues, and you will also be able to identify other people they can turn to, such as a school counsellor or nurse, if they need help during school hours.
Samudio suggests adding the check-in to the calendar, just like any doctor’s appointment or athletic practice.
During these check-ins, try to ask open-ended questions – but stay away from the well-worn and often useless “How was your day?” That will often elicit a rote, one-word response (“Fine”). Here is a list of the kinds of questions that might help you get a sense of what your child’s days are like.
You want to give them an opening to express “a whole spectrum of emotions at the beginning of the school year,” not simply happiness, Samudio said.
She added that parents should try not to make assumptions about what their kids may be anxious about when it comes to milestones, such as the first day. Instead, ask, “What are you most looking forward to?” and “What are you least looking forward to?”
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Neha Navsaria, a psychologist consultant with the Parent Lab and professor of psychiatry at Washington University School of Medicine in St Louis, suggested using a “I wonder what/how…” phrase with children.
This phrase, she told HuffPost, “is very inviting to young children because it is an indirect way to pose a question, but it comes out as a statement of curiosity (‘I wonder what it was like to be in a new classroom with a different teacher?’).”
The return of homework
One of the best things about summer for kids is forgetting about homework completely. This is often an equal relief for parents, who may feel pulled into a cycle of nagging and fighting over homework as soon as school begins.
“Keeping kids on-task with their school work can be a source of battles and power struggles between parents and children,” Navsaria said.
Conflict becomes more likely “when parents and children have different learning styles and organisational methods. This is further exacerbated when children have specific deficits in learning and organisation, such as ADHD, learning disabilities and developmental delays.”
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She recommends that parents try to set aside their own assumptions and sit down for a moment to calmly problem-solve with their child.
“Parents can easily fall into a trap of assuming that their child isn’t taking something seriously at school and the parent is the only one thinking about it —which creates a burden on the parent and increases their stress. By opening up the discussion with your child, you may hear that he or she has plenty of thoughts about the situation, but they needed a sounding board and some guidance to move forward.”
For example, rather than assuming that a child doesn’t want to complete a project, a parent might be able to help them break tasks into manageable steps and schedule time to complete each one — with ample breaks between work sessions.
The spectre of school violence
It’s unlikely that there will be a shooting at your child’s school (their odds of being shot at school are about 1 in 10 million), but it’s almost certain that they will take part in a lockdown drill and rehearse hiding in the corner of a darkened classroom.
Such practices have come under criticism for a lack of effectiveness and the potential psychological effects they have on children, but they remain a regular occurrence in American schools.
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Samudio said she has heard a number of parents worrying about the ways violence in our society will, directly or indirectly, affect their children. “The kind of violence that we have in the world — kids can’t be shielded from that anymore,” she said. In generations past, we might have assumed that schools were a safe space, but parents and kids today can’t rest in that comfort.
If you hear that there has been a lockdown drill (or an actual lockdown) at your child’s school, you’ll want to talk to them about it. But, again, don’t make assumptions, and let your child lead the conversation.
Ask questions like, “What did you do?” “Why were you doing it” and “How did you feel?” You don’t want to add any distress to their interpretation. At the same time, you want them to know that you’re open to hearing about any fear they may have.
The transition from summer to the school year
Though it’s natural for parents to be concerned about their child’s academic performance, there’s actually not much they can do to assess or improve their child’s skill level on their own.
School readiness, on the other hand, comprises lots of skills, many of which you can give your child the opportunity to practice at home. Being able to complete tasks like using the bathroom and opening their lunch box by themselves “help them feel autonomous and competent and independent in the school setting,” Sarah Bren, a psychologist in New York, told HuffPost.
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Emotional regulation skills are also key, Bren said. “If a kid is feeling really anxious all day at school, you’re not going to take in anything even if you’re academically super ready.”
Helping kids practice emotional regulation can begin with simply helping them recognise and name their emotions. You can encourage this by offering labels for their feelings: “You seem angry right now. Are you feeling angry?”
Another way that you can help facilitate a smooth transition is to gradually move mealtimes, bedtimes and wake-up times so that the new schedule of the first day back doesn’t come as such a shock to the system.
“You’re just taking the changes you have control over and moving them up in the schedule a little bit [so they’re] not all happening at once,” Bren explained.
“You are transitioning from a more care-free and less scheduled lifestyle to a back-to-school mode, which is more regimented and scheduled,” Navsaria added.
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“Without the daily structure of school anchoring a family, it is easy for parents to become lax with some of these rules [in summer]. This is not a bad thing, consistently reinforcing routines can be exhausting for parents, but it is important to acknowledge that it then makes the transition back to school routines more challenging,” she said.
Moving bedtimes back by 10- to 15-minute increments over a number of days can make this process easier.
Feeling overwhelmed
One thing most parents confront at some point during the back-to-school transition is a feeling of being overwhelmed: open houses, lunch boxes, musical instruments, team uniforms and an endless series of online portals, each requiring a new user name and password.
“This means more coordination of schedules and more communication of which to keep track,” Navsaria said.
“This can often leave parents in this state of high alert, feeling that they are going to miss an important announcement or their child will be left out of an experience,” she added.
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The fear that we’re going to drop one of the balls that we’re juggling is very real — and it can help to admit this.
Bren likes the following image: “In the air, there’s a million balls. Some are rubber and some are glass.” It can be helpful, she said, to put “a little thought into which are glass and which are rubber because I think sometimes as parents, we don’t let ourselves distinguish those two things.”
Forgetting a violin or gym clothes, for example, are slips with minimal consequences – rubber balls that we can just let go.
But if we don’t allow ourselves the possibility of dropping any ball ever, “we’re much more likely then to accidentally drop a glass one. … It’s not possible to keep all these balls in the air. But if I give myself permission to sometimes drop balls, I’m going to be much more likely to say which are the ones I can drop and which are the ones I can’t.”
Samudio concurs, saying that one way for parents to reduce their stress levels is to hold themselves to more realistic expectations. An attitude of “everything is gonna go right as long as I planned it to a tee” is unrealistic, she said.
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“Somebody probably will forget their musical instrument. Somebody probably will at the last minute need to do a project and you’ll have to go to Staples and get all that stuff. All of this will happen.”
“Being honest with yourself at the beginning of the school year” that such things will occur, Samudio said, and then not making a big deal about them when they do, can both lower your stress level and help teach your kids how to handle setbacks.
The best way to teach them to go easy on themselves is to show yourself a little grace in such moments. “They can see that you’re telling them to be nice to themselves, and you’re beating yourself up all the time,” Samudio said.
Not long after her 18th birthday, my daughter appeared in the kitchen, pulled down the strap of her camisole and revealed a fresh tattoo on her right shoulder blade.
“Like it?” she asked.
“It’s puffy,” I said, “and red. Is that how it’s supposed to look?”
I’d turned away from the cutting board where my younger daughter and I were slicing peppers and bok choy for supper to examine my older daughter’s wounded skin. As I adjusted my glasses, I saw a woman’s body falling through space.
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I hated it but kept my mouth shut. Grimacing hard, I returned to the vegetables. The chop-chop of stainless steel on wood became an audible stand-in for what I yearned to scream: How could you be so reckless?Why would you make such a damaging, irreversible choice?
My older daughter seemed oblivious to my distress as she torqued her body toward the mirror to admire herself. “It didn’t even hurt that much,” she said to my younger daughter, who’d abandoned meal prep to swoon enviously. I picked up two carrots and a bunch of scallions, waving them in the air. “Dinner anyone?” I’d lost my appetite, but we’d still have to eat.
The body branded on my daughter’s back should not have upset me — she’d been chattering about various tattoo options for months. And legally I was no longer obligated to worry. Now, along with voting, skydiving, operating the meat slicer at a deli, owning a pet, becoming a realtor and booking a hotel room, my “adult” child was authorised to enter the Mooncusser Tattoo and Piercing parlour in Provincetown, Massachusetts (motto: “Take it to the grave”) and pay a guy to drive a bunch of oscillating, ink-laden needles into her skin.
The mere fact of the tattoo was not the problem. Rather, it was the tattoo’s allusion to Seth, my husband, her father, that left me unsteady and clutching my knife fiercely.
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Seth had jumped to his death off a bridge near our home in Cambridge when the girls were 11 and eight years old. He’d been a devoted father, a beloved robotics professor, and never diagnosed with a serious mental illness. Then, on a warm summer morning, Seth was gone.
That night, as our house filled with stunned family and friends, while a steady stream of chocolate babkas and pans of macaroni and cheese arrived at our doorstep, my daughter had asked, “Will we ever be happy again?” I’d said yes, but didn’t believe it.
I spent the following years trying to re-create the sense of safety and balance we’d lost. Over the course of that day-upon-day slog, my daughters and I became a single unit, attuned to each other’s moods and needs. When one of us required a break, we’d gather on the couch with sweet tea to watch Gilmore Girls, wallowing in its charmed landscape and mother-and-daughter high jinks. In summer, when we ached for the missing fourth towel on the beach alongside ours, I’d point toward the bay: “We’re diving in.” We all came to believe in the curative power of cold salt water.
Somehow, whether due to our tight-knit threesome or despite it, they grew up, from pixies scrambling to the top of the jungle gym to teenagers tucking deodorant in their backpacks and hiding texts from me.
I believed that my daughter must have known her falling-figure tattoo would unleash my old sadness and renew my fear that suicidal impulses can be passed through generations. But she looked surprised when I asked if she was considering a plunge from the sky herself anytime soon.
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Courtesy of Rachel Zimmerman
The author’s daughters in 2023.
She shook her head at my apparent cluelessness. “It’s just a story,” she responded. “It’s Icarus, but a woman. Dad used to read it to me. I think it’s cool.”
Cool? Perhaps on someone else’s child. Not mine.
In my mind, Seth’s suicide had tainted all modes of falling: jumping, diving, flying, climbing, even landing. Since that time, I could not even bring myself to cross the Tobin Bridge. Nor could I understand why, with the newfound freedom of adulthood, my daughter chose to mark herself with an upside-down figure whose melting feather-wings failed to keep her aloft.
“There must be a reason you chose this tattoo,” I said, unable to let it go.
Her eyes, dark and sparkling like his, rolled. Then she shrugged and disappeared from the kitchen. “I’ll eat later,” she yelled. “I’m going out.” My younger daughter chimed in before exiting, too. “It’s her body,” she said. “Her choice.”
As dinner simmered, I stood alone at the stove, weary with the sense that our familiar unit was unravelling, like the band we’d formed was breaking up.
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In a few weeks, our split would become official. The three of us drove to New York to drop my older daughter off at college with her tattoo and dyed eyebrows and piercings on anatomy unknown to me ― was it the rook or snug, tragus or antitragus, septum, rhino, nasallang or some other body part I’d need a piercing dictionary to figure out?
In her freshman dorm, she told me she was ready for me to leave. A moment later she changed her mind: “You can stay a few more minutes.” I tucked the baby blue sheets into her single bed, then unrolled the brand new mattress topper. “Comfy,” I said, with an upbeat lilt. There was so much more to say. But I knew better. Instead, I left a handful of protein bars on the battered desk. “I’ll walk you out,” my daughter said.
On a Manhattan street corner, the three of us sweating dirt, we pulled each other close. We are the same size, 5 feet tall, so when we huddle like this, we’re aligned, like classical architecture, face-next-to-face, hip-to-hip, like we belong to the same body. When we finally separate, the distance between us is that much more acute, like we’re falling, apart. “Love you,” we said in unison.
My younger daughter and I climbed back into the car to head home, singing show tunes the three of us used to sing together. I hear loss in the patchy harmonies.
A few days later, I phoned my daughter at college to check in. She didn’t answer my calls or texts. I was thrown back to the day Seth died. At first, I thought he’d been in an accident, and that’s what I think again. Something happened to her, I am certain, in the park, or at a party, on a fire escape, the drink was spiked, one misstep too many. Suddenly, I was sweating, breathing irregularly, trying to quiet the voice that said my child must be dead. The tattoo, I was certain, had prevailed.
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A sleepless night. Then a text. “Alive,” she wrote. She’d been at an art opening downtown, eating 99-cent pizza at the place on Bleeker, perched on a stoop talking politics with a new friend until 3 am.
I wrote her a long email about my difficulty with our separation, why the falling-woman tattoo led me directly to her father’s jump from the bridge, and how I worried it might be a warning sign. She texted back while I was out walking the dog: “I didn’t think about the connection there but now I see how you did.”
Courtesy of Rachel Zimmerman
The author on a mountain in New Hampshire in 2022.
She had never wanted to dwell on the details of her father’s death. Though my youngest had repeatedly asked, “How did Daddy die?” and dutifully attended her grief group for children, constructing art to honour the dead out of pipe cleaners and polished stones, my older daughter would have none of it.
She grieved for him in her own way, sideways: a passing lyric in a ukulele song; channeling him while playing the bullied, suicidal girl in the musical Heathers; lining her bedroom wall with “before” photos. She knew but also turned away from knowing ― the way we all know and don’t know so much: our partners, their secrets and our own.
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As I pulled the dog along at a swift pace, I realised the meagre influence I’d had over my daughter was now gone. She’d figured out how to cope, to find good, on her own. She’d gained comfort from the tattoo, reliably covering her body like a favourite soft sweater.
This offered me some comfort, too. A tattoo of falling is not falling, I thought. It’s a recognition of falling. A testament to having not fallen. There is soap, my philosopher father used to tell us when we were children, and there’s the idea of soap. The tattoo helps keep him alive, a new facet of her story ― a story distinct from mine.
I tried to let go, the way mothers must. I read Kahlil Gibran, foolishly hoping that words on a page could ease this separation: “Your children are not your children… they are with you yet they belong not to you.”
As if to underscore the point, my daughter soon texted me a new picture ― a second tattoo, Ignatz, the mischievous mouse from the old Krazy Kat comic strip. Seth, a passionate comic collector, had the same tattoo, although he’d removed it years before we’d met.
“What do u think?” she texted.
“It’s cool, honey.” Now all I wanted was to remain in her 18-year-old orbit.
My new job as the mother of an adult child is to sort loss from loss, death from images of death, ideation from execution. The line is slim. When her number appears on my phone, there’s always a moment of trepidation, awaiting the sound of her voice. The words I hear could break either way. This is the cost of living. Never sure if she’ll fall hard and shatter or, miraculously, pull off a safe, auspicious landing.
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Rachel Zimmerman, an award-winning journalist, has written about health and medicine for more than two decades. A contributor to The Washington Post, she previously worked as a staff writer for The Wall Street Journal and a health reporter for WBUR, Boston’s public radio station. She is the author of “Us, After: A Memoir of Love and Suicide,” to be published in 2024.
If you choose to breastfeed, those first few weeks where you’re figuring out comfortable positions and how to get your baby to latch properly can be a real rollercoaster.
I remember sobbing on day four because feeding was so painful and my boobs were like boulders (not so much in size, but more in how full they were – it felt like they were filled with concrete).
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My baby didn’t seem to be latching right either, the pinching sensations on my nipples were diabolical – so yeah, not a fun time for all involved.
Fast forward a week and – after some latching support from a midwife and health visitor – things were looking up. Well, aside from me routinely and explosively spraying my poor baby in the face with milk – we later learned I had an overactive letdown.
Finding a breastfeeding position that works for you can make such a huge difference, especially during those periods of cluster-feeding when you’re spending most of your time sat down with a baby glued to your boob.
Here are some of the most commonly used breastfeeding positions – with supporting images and illustrations from Lansinoh – to help you on your way.
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Breastfeeding positions illustrated.
1. Cradle hold
This is one of the most common positions for breastfeeding, however it might be uncomfortable for those who have had a caesarean, the NHS notes.
To do this position, sit in a comfy chair with arm rests or on a bed with cushions around you. Then, lie your baby across your lap, facing you. Their tummy should be facing yours.
Place your baby’s head on your forearm, with their nose towards your nipple. Your arms should be supporting their body. Meanwhile, place your baby’s lower arm under yours.
Check to make sure your baby’s ear, shoulder and hip are in a straight line.
Cathlin McCullough/Lansinoh
A baby feeding in the cradle position.
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2. Cross-cradle hold
This is touted as a good position for those with smaller babies and newborns. It’s similar to cradle hold, except your arms switch roles – so your baby’s body is basically lying across the opposite forearm to the boob you’re feeding them from.
Your forearm will basically be supporting their back and spine, with your palm supporting their shoulder blades, and your fingers under their ears.
As breast pump experts at Medela explain: “Because your baby is fully supported on your opposite arm, you have more control over his positioning, and you can use your free hand to shape your breast.”
This is a great position to try if you’re breastfeeding in the night, or you’ve had a caesarean or difficult delivery.
First, lay down on your side with your baby facing you, so you’re lying tummy to tummy. Your baby’s ear, shoulder and hip should be in a straight line.
It might help to put some cushions or pillows behind you for support and the NHS recommends a rolled up baby blanket popped behind your baby to help support them, if they can’t quite stay on their side yet.
Tuck the arm you’re lying on under your head or pillow and use your free arm to support and guide your baby’s head to your breast.
Need a visual guide? Check out this handy video from lactation counsellor Grace (@latchingwithgrace) on how she gets comfortable in the side-lying position.
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A baby feeding in the side-lying position.
4. Laid-back nursing
The laid-back position is pretty much what it says on the tin: you’re seated in a semi-reclined position – either on a sofa or bed. The position can be done by most mothers, however if you’ve had a C-section you might want to lie your baby across from you and away from your incision, the NHS suggests.
It’s also a great shout for those who have an overactive letdown (where the milk comes out forcefully) and, according to lactation counsellor Angela Das (@motherhooduntamed) it can also help them achieve a deeper latch.
To nail this position, lean back (but not flat) on your sofa or bed, propping yourself up with cushions so your back, shoulders and neck are supported.
Now, place your baby on your front so their tummy is resting on your tummy. For those who’ve had C-sections, this is the part where you would lay them to one side.
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The NHS advises parents to be seated upright enough that they can look into their baby’s eyes, and to gently support their baby, guiding them to the nipple.
Cathlin McCullough/Lansinoh
A baby feeding in the laid-back nursing position.
5. Rugby ball hold
The rugby hold can feel a bit tricky to begin with, however it’s another good position for those who’ve had C-sections, as there’s no pressure on the incision area, as well as parents of twins.
To do this, you’ll need to sit in a chair with a cushion (or two) along your side. Then, position your baby (/babies) at your side, under your arm, with their hip close to your hip. Their upper body will be positioned along your forearm. The NHS suggests your baby’s nose should be level with your nipple.
Support your baby’s neck with the palm of your hand and gently guide them to your nipple.
Check out this video from midwife and lactation consultant Libby Cain (@libbyandco_nz) on how to do the rugby hold.
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A baby feeding in the rugby position.
6. Koala hold
This position can be good for mothers who have older babies or an overactive letdown. It can also be done with newborns however they’ll need lots of support.
According to experts at Medela, this position can also be more comfortable for babies who have reflux, ear infections, tongue-tie or low muscle tone.
In this particular position, the baby will sit on your thigh, with their legs dangling either side. Their spine and head will be upright as they feed. For a demo of this nursing position, check out this video from lactation consultant Kathryn Stagg (@kathrynstaggibclc).
In My Story, readers share their unique, life-changing experiences. This week we hear from Richard Poulin, 40, who currently lives in Bangkok, Thailand.
My wife and I accepted new teaching jobs in Singapore. Before leaving America, we proudly showed our newborn daughter, Rylae-Ann, to family. All was right in the world, and we eagerly boarded a plane to begin our new life.
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However, when Rylae-Ann was three months old, we saw signs that all was not right.
She was missing developmental milestones. We would play games to encourage her to reach out, do exercises to practice sitting independently, and give massages to coax her to engage her core muscles. But nothing seemed to work.
One day my wife, Judy, went to look for homes while I stayed back at the hotel with our daughter. During one of the sessions, Rylae-Ann tensed her arms and legs. Her eyes briefly crossed, and her tongue made a thrusting action.
Despite it lasting a few seconds, I was concerned. I attributed it to my pushing her too hard, causing muscle cramps. I tapered my eagerness for my daughter to progress.
The fleeting actions caused enough concern that I did some Googling. I did not dare tell Judy. I didn’t want her to start worrying.
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I came across an article about a girl with a deadly ultra-rare disease. I admonished myself. I had become one of those parents who Googled symptoms and ended up with an obscure diagnosis for my daughter. I closed my laptop and tried to focus on my family’s new life in Singapore.
Richard Poulin
As the days passed, Rylae-Ann’s parents realised she was missing developmental milestones.
Over the next few months, our lives began to unravel. The tensing of muscles in our daughter’s tiny limbs became more intense and lasted longer; it was the only time we ever saw any movement from her.
We began to refer to them as ‘spells’. These spells came every three days like clockwork. She had trouble staying asleep. When she was awake, she looked sleepy and constantly cried.
Rylae-Ann’s developmental milestones remained paused at the three-month mark. She couldn’t hold up her head, she did not reach out and grasp things, and her eyes remained tiny slits. The photographer commented on her sleepy look when we got her identification card.
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We went to doctors who reassured us that babies develop at different rates. But as the spells’ intensity and duration grew, we could no longer sit idly by. We began visiting more doctors and researching.
One rainy night, the spell lasted longer and was more intense – we were filled with fear. We rushed out of the door to the car we’d booked on a ride-sharing app and headed to the nearest hospital. I willed all the lights to turn green while Judy cooed softly into Rylae-Ann’s ear. Once we arrived, the nurses did an assessment and put our daughter at the front of the triage line.
They gave our daughter diazepam for fear she would have another seizure. A doctor came and assigned an initial assessment of epilepsy. The doctors admitted Rylae-Ann, and we were separated from her for the first time.
Judy and I discussed the diagnosis when we returned home to get clothes and necessities. What the doctor was telling us didn’t seem right, mainly because we thought what the doctor saw as a seizure was something else due to its three-day cyclical nature.
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After a barrage of tests, the doctors said she had epilepsy. They prescribed her medication, and we went home. But her symptoms did not improve. The medicine left her sleeping all day and she felt lifeless when we picked her up – we stopped the drug after a few days.
We continued to visit the doctor, trying to explain why we thought it wasn’t epilepsy. Despite genetic testing, blood tests, EEGs (which record brain activity), MRI, CSF (cerebrospinal fluid) tests, and more coming back normal or inconclusive, the doctors did not change their diagnosis, so we went to other doctors. We even travelled to other countries searching for answers.
As we collected second opinions, we improved our description and came armed with digital evidence. Doctors had different opinions, including epilepsy, dystonia, cerebral palsy, and other neurotransmitter disorders. However, no definitive answer came.
Our daughter was regularly admitted to emergency care during the onslaught of medical tests. We were always in the hospital, so much so, the nurses knew our daughter by name. Most were lung-related issues such as aspiration, pneumonia, and collapsed lung. But also, a typical childhood viral infection would cause her to be extremely weak to the point that the doctors required her to be in intensive care.
Answers never came. Instead, a random Facebook post about a child with similar symptoms caught the eye of Judy’s older brother. When Judy shared the article with me, it triggered a memory of a post I saw earlier.
The name AADC stuck with me because of its similarity to a classic rock band. I remember the article discussing the extremely rare disease, affecting around 130 people worldwide since 1990.
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Richard Poulin
Rylae-Ann would often end up in intensive care.
I explained how it was improbable. However, Judy pointed out that although it is an extremely rare genetic disorder, many of the children were from Taiwan, where her parents are from.
AADC deficiency is a rare disease that causes a mutation in the DDC gene. This gene instructs the body to produce the AADC enzyme, which is responsible for dopamine and serotonin.
Children with AADC deficiency have little or no dopamine and serotonin. Both are responsible for several critical bodily functions to sustain life and movement.
That night, alarms were going off in my head. I sat up in bed and went to work, reading research papers about the disease. The more I read, the more I knew our daughter had this. One glaring reality was that children with this disease die early in life due to the severity of the symptoms.
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One of the reports talked about how a doctor in Taiwan had completed clinical trials for an experimental, innovative treatment. There was no word if the treatment was available, but I knew we had to visit this doctor.
Richard Poulin
Rylae-Ann struggled to sit upright or feed.
Judy’s younger brother still lived in Taiwan, so we asked him to make an appointment as soon as possible. The next day he told us we had an appointment booked a week later, the day after Christmas.
We packed our bags and landed in Taiwan on Christmas day. That night, Judy and I sat at the park drinking a small bottle of vodka, trying to process how we went from cloud nine, to falling from a cliff, to Hell over six months. As the bottle’s contents disappeared, I promised my wife we would never have a Christmas like this again.
On the day of our appointment, we met the doctor who was surprised to receive patients thinking their child had a rare disease – and even more surprised at our knowledge of the disease.
“The doctor felt confident that our daughter did, in fact, have an aromatic L-amino decarboxylase (AADC) deficiency.”
I asked if the treatment in the article was available. We held our breath. “No,” he replied. Tears welled. “But, there is another clinical trial recruiting. However, it is only available for Taiwanese.”
“She is Taiwanese!” we screamed. We had recently applied for her citizenship. Although Judy is Taiwanese, she never lived there. We grew up in Thailand, where Rylae-Ann was born. Rylae-Ann only had an American passport, but her Taiwanese passport would soon be ready.
She enrolled in the clinical trial for a new exploratory treatment known as gene therapy. However, she had to wait 11 months to begin treatment – another year of trying to keep her alive and healthy.
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Yet with the mystery uncovered, we had more information on how to care for her.
The 11 months also gave us time to figure out the logistics of how our daughter would participate in the study. She would have to stay in Taiwan for six months, so we decided to have Judy’s mum and nanny remain in Taiwan for that period while Judy and I took turns flying back so we could continue earning money at our new jobs in Singapore.
Richard Poulin
Judy and Rylae-Ann on the day of her surgery.
On 13 November, when Rylae-Ann was 18 months old, she underwent brain surgery for gene therapy. Family and friends asked us if we were worried. We weren’t. We had our backs against the wall and fought to keep our daughter alive.
While alive, she depended on us for everything. Managing work to pay the mounting health care bills was extremely difficult. There was no downtime or social life. I remember telling Judy that the lack of sleep was making me mad.
We felt blessed that our daughter would have an opportunity in life.
The surgery lasted several hours. It was Judy’s turn to be in Taiwan, so I waited for a video chat update.
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The way we explain gene therapy to other parents is it involves injecting a shell of a virus into the brain. The virus normally goes unnoticed by the body, so it is able to bypass the body’s immune system. Researchers used this situation to inject good DNA into the virus. The virus then “infects” the good DNA in the body. In our daughter’s case, it was in the area of the brain where dopamine is produced.
The surgery was a success. A few days later, to Judy’s surprise, Rylae-Ann was discharged. We began physical therapy immediately.
The results came quickly. One month later, she sat up on her own. This was a huge milestone. Since then, she has continued to make progress. Every day we supported her, but we did it in a way where we could still make memories as a family.
Just over a year after gene therapy, our daughter was swimming, walking, running, and even riding a horse. Today, she is an independent child who continues to explore the world. Not only does our daughter have a chance to live, but we also have a chance to be parents.
Richard Poulin
Rylae-Ann has grown into an independent child who continues to explore the world.
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Judy and Rich now use their spare time to help other families in the rare disease community and have launched a non-profit organisation called Teach RARE, where they work to raise awareness and teach caregivers how to combine educational activities with therapy goals.
To take part in HuffPost UK’s My Story series, email uklife@huffpost.com.
‘Mother’s wrist’ – or de Quervain’s tenosynovitis, as it’s more formally known – is a very painful, not to mention common, issue for new mums.
Yet unless you’ve suffered with it, you’ve probably never heard of it.
The ailment causes pain in the base of the thumb and wrist whenever you use your thumb. It can make activities like opening jars, unscrewing the lid of milk bottles, changing nappies and lifting your tiny tot utterly agonising.
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Big Bang Theory’s Kaley Cuoco gave birth to her first child, Matilda, back in March – and took to Instagram in July to share a photo of herself wearing a compression bandage on her wrist. “They call it ‘mommy wrist,’” she wrote in the caption of the Instagram Story, later adding that she had it in both hands. Ouch.
“I had it with my third child, it was awful, I couldn’t pick her up,” added another mum. “I couldn’t lift anything, I got a steroid shot directly in my wrist and it went away within hours, never had an issue with it again.”
Axelle/Bauer-Griffin via Getty Images
Kaley Cuoco pictured at Pacific Design Center on June 01, 2023.
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What causes the issue?
According to the Health Service Executive (HSE), it could be caused by a combination of hormonal changes and increased pressure on the wrist tendons when lifting and holding a baby – which makes a lot of sense.
Women who breastfeed also have a higher chance of developing it, but it’s not clear why.
Symptoms
If you have ‘mother’s wrist’, you’ll certainly know about it. Symptoms include:
Pain on the thumb side of the wrist, which is aggravated by lifting the thumb or using scissors. The pain might travel up the arm.
Tenderness if you press on the site of pain
Swelling of the site of pain
Clicking or snapping of the tendons.
Experts at Bristol Chiropractic shared a handy way to know if you have the issue. Grip your thumb and gently pull it down and forwards away from you.
“If this causes pain, there is a good chance that this is the type of ‘baby wrist’ you are suffering with,” they explained.
Treatment
The good news is that milder cases of ‘mother’s wrist’ tend to go away in a couple of weeks – although sometimes this is more like months.
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In the meantime, if you’re struggling, HSE recommends easing the pain with ice massages, stretches, painkillers (paracetamol) or even wearing a rigid wrist splint. These can usually be obtained from a sports shop or physiotherapist.
It can also help to relieve the pain by resting the hand – although that’s easier said than done with a baby.
If the pain doesn’t ease off, speak to your GP or book in with a physiotherapist.
You’re reading Between Us, a place for parents to offload and share their tricky parenting dilemmas. Share your parenting dilemma here and we’ll seek advice from experts.
With the cost of living crisis, rocketing bills, and soaring rent payments, a growing number of adult children – dubbed ‘boomerang kids’ – are moving back in with their parents.
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In fact, as of 2021, there were 620,000 more adult children living with their parents compared to 10 years previous, census data found.
While lots of parents will enjoy the chance to spend more time with their grown-up children, having them move back in can also cause tension and rifts.
Such is the case for one anonymous HuffPost UK reader, who shared their parenting dilemma with us:
“Our adult son has moved home for the second time, and I desperately want him to move out. He came home after a highly toxic relationship breakdown during which time he had wiped out all of his savings. He reluctantly came home at my insistence, and said it would only be for 2-3 weeks, but never left, and never asked us if he could stay permanently.
“As such the ‘ground rules’ conversations never took place, although we’ve tried to have them several times since with no impact or improvement. Since moving home seven months ago, he has not changed his sheets, washed his towels, he’s doing nothing to improve his job prospects in order to earn a consistent living wage that would allow him to move out, he’s not doing what we suggest to save money to clear his debts quicker. He doesn’t routinely help out around the home – he’ll clean his own plate but won’t unload the dishwasher, for example. He’ll remove his clothes from the washing line but leave everything else in the rain.
“He pays us ‘rent’ weekly which is now consistent, but resents it. This is about a third of what it would cost him to live in a house-share where we live. We have tried to address all of the above issues many times, but nothing changes. I feel we have no choice but to ask him to leave, but I fear making him homeless.”
So, what can they do?
1. Sit down and talk
While the situation is clearly hard for the parent, therapists recommend they take a step back and consider that their son is probably struggling quite a bit at the moment, too.
“Are these current behaviours new, or are they out of character? I would want to know more about how your family have communicated in the past – do things get heated?” asks Counselling Directory member Octavia Landy.
She recommends setting a specific time for a family meeting and, in the first instance, talking with the son about what is happening for him. The parent needs to find out: how is he? Is he struggling at the moment? What would he like to happen in his life?
During this conversation, the parent can also talk to their son about how it feels for them when he is not pulling his weight, and how it’s impacting the rest of the family, she suggests.
This isn’t a finger-pointing exercise, so at the same time the parent can remind their son that they care – this could be as simple as asking him what he needs or figuring out how the family can work towards this goal together. Empathy is key.
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“It sounds like he is feeling lost and needs to make some changes, perhaps he feels overwhelmed,” adds the therapist.
2. Be prepared to listen calmly
When things get heated – which they can in these scenarios – it can be easy to just storm off and not really hear each other out. But every effort needs to be made, on both sides, to properly listen.
“As the parents, you will need to model consistency and keep calm,” suggests Landy.
“Bring the conversation back to the matter at hand, reiterate what you need to change, but also listen to your son. It sounds like there is something deeper happening for him, and by connecting on a new level, you can support each other and work together.”
3. Set clear boundaries
“Boundaries and communication lie at the heart of this dilemma,” says counsellor Georgina Sturmer, addressing the parent directly.
“At the moment, it feels as if the lack of boundaries is leading to a sense of anger and resentment on your part. It sounds like it might be time for you to communicate more effectively, ‘adult to adult’, about how you want your relationship to be.”
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The Counselling Directory member also suggests a bit of self-reflection on how the relationship with the son has changed since he became an adult.
“Consider what your boundaries look like,” adds Sturmer. “How do you communicate with him about what constitutes acceptable behaviour?”
It’s also important to figure out where the partner stands on all this, because if there’s disagreement over how is best to handle the situation, it could fuel the son’s behaviour further.
As there wasn’t really a clear cut establishing of boundaries when the son moved back in, now is the time to lay down the law and sweep any uncertainty under the rug.
“Work together to establish ground rules and a timeline for these to be reviewed. It will be important to check in with him on how things are progressing,” adds Landy.
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4. Ask yourself what you need to feel happy in your home
Sturmer suggests the parent should ask themselves what they need in order to be able to feel happy and safe in their home – and the answer might be a difficult one to come to terms with.
“It might be that this means that you need to ask him to leave,” she says. “If this triggers fears about him becoming homeless, then address these fears directly.
“Perhaps you can find a way to work together on a timeframe for him to leave home. Or if you don’t feel able to ask him to leave, start setting stricter ‘ground rules’, based on what you might expect from an adult living in your home.
“This can shift the dynamic from ‘parent to child’ to ‘adult to adult’. Even though he may always be your baby, remember that he is an adult, and he deserves to have an opportunity to be independent.”
Ultimately, communicating clearly, really listening to each other, and setting firm boundaries (and timelines) will be key in making all of this work.
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Landy concludes: “Change needs to happen, and whilst that can be scary, by working together you can hopefully support your son to stand on his own again, without having to ask him to leave.”
Help and support:
Mind, open Monday to Friday, 9am-6pm on 0300 123 3393.
Samaritans offers a listening service which is open 24 hours a day, on 116 123 (UK and ROI – this number is FREE to call and will not appear on your phone bill).
CALM (the Campaign Against Living Miserably) offer a helpline open 5pm-midnight, 365 days a year, on 0800 58 58 58, and a webchat service.
The Mix is a free support service for people under 25. Call 0808 808 4994 or email help@themix.org.uk
Rethink Mental Illness offers practical help through its advice line which can be reached on 0808 801 0525 (Monday to Friday 10am-4pm). More info can be found on rethink.org.