Nobody told you it’d be like this?

First up, a huge lip-smacking congrats on the birth of your baby – your beautiful, wrinkly and rather daunting poppet of loveliness.  Now what?! *Insert minor freak-out and expletives here.* You graduated with distinctions from antenatal class, the nursery was unveiled weeks ago and outfits from 0000 to 0 have been laundered, pressed and appropriately ordered.

But has anyone really given you the low-down?

The conversation starts here.

Little Tsunami is where we’ll expose truths, joys and fears of motherhood.  We’ll gain inspiration from other mums as we navigate through the first days, weeks, months and years of the mind-bending maze that is parenting.

When we recognise our experiences in others it can be the very reassurance we need to realise we are DOING. JUST. FINE. 

So let’s fess up and put it all on the table – nothing will be off-limits.  Guilt. Crazy hormones. Fear. Pregnancy. Postnatal depression. Sleep deprivation. Anxiety. Leaky boobs. Love. Identity. Warts and all, darlings.

Join the conversation on Little Tsunami’s Facebook page.


I’m Nami Clarke, writer, conversation starter and the pint-sized powerhouse that fuels Little Tsunami.

Motherhood is part of my rich tapestry.  Having children always featured as a non-negotiable on my life list.  My dreams of being a mum however were rocked to the core when a traumatic birth experience was ensued by postnatal depression.

I loved my baby but I didn’t love motherhood.

Following the anxiety, mood-swings, complete disconnection and a shitload of Stevie Nicks, I hit rock bottom. Thankfully this meant just one thing – I could begin my recovery.  I filled a prescription for anti-depressants and cried my heart out at the first of many counselling sessions.

Baby number two was my chance to ‘get it right’, but life, as they say, is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.  At 33 weeks pregnancy, we were delivered the news our unborn daughter was affected by a fatal genetic kidney disease and we braced ourselves for the loss of our child. One year later, as she miraculously continued to defy all odds, we were thrown another curve ball; our daughter had been misdiagnosed with a capital M.  Don’t exhale just yet: fast-forward another two years and we’re back in the hotseat.  Dulcie daughter is undergoing chemotherapy for a kidney tumour.  Coincidence?  We’re yet to find out.

These are my little tsunamis.

The single question I’m asked time and time again has been “how do you do it?”  There are experiences that defy explanation but I always find that the more I talk, and talk some more (gift of the gab, remember?) two things happen: I’m able to digest my experiences, and other wonderful women shared their experiences in return. I often receive calls, text messages, emails, Facebook messages and blog post comments from amazing mothers, grateful for hearing of another woman’s story that helped her better understand her own.

It is clear that as women we need to talk.  We just need the platform and permission to do so.  This is it.

Birth and babes deliver us the most significant relationship of our lives so I’m on a mission to blab about the cracked nipples, exploding poos, post-natal depression and to talk through the days we are so freaking tired we wear odd shoes to the shops and leave the groceries in the car park (true story).  Likewise, we’ll celebrate the smallest of successes – even if that sometimes means popping on the kettle instead of popping that bottle of bubbly.

Join me for the conversation and let’s ride this wave of motherhood together.

Nami’s personal accounts of motherhood + Motherhood Interviews have been featured by Huffpost, Elephant JournalABC TV, The MotherishMamamia, iVillage, LoveflockCoping with Jane and The Shake.  Her affair with the written word began at 17, when her English assignment became part of the study curriculum for her junior-school peers.

She works collaboratively with COPE, Centre of Perinatal Excellence.

And while we’re getting into the nitty gritty…

I’m hooked on haircuts, heels and a kick-ass lippy. But you can’t get me out of my bra – gasp! – and into my tracky-dacks quickly enough at the end of the day.  

I love vintage chairs, movies that make me cry, hot chips and road-trips (separately or combined) with a Ryan Adams soundtrack.  I bust out my finest dance moves with my peeps in the kitchen. The only place no-one is ever really watching – thankfully.

I’m guilty of eavesdropping on stranger’s conversations in cafes, nana naps and sneaking a blankie with me into the cinema.  I have approximately 17 sewing projects on the go. 

I’m so proud of the $15,000 (national record!) my team raised for Kidney Health Australia’s 2012 Big Red Walk .  But dearest to my heart is my husband and the relationship we’ve forged – everything I accomplish is with his support and encouragement.  And my children, bless!  Enough said.

5 thoughts on “Nobody told you it’d be like this?

  1. Hi Nami!

    I met Andy while giving a presentation to his Nuffield group in Washington (state). It was so nice to meet visitors from abroad of my generation who are working on solutions to so many challenges we face in agriculture. The sacrifice of so much time away from home is a big deal!

    He passed along your blog, you have created a wonderful space for mothers to share their experiences. Would love to connect via our blogs/e-mail/social media (bridgetelliott at gmail dot com, insta: @ranchwifery).

    Bridget Coon
    Benge, WA USA


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