I didn't manage to find my Christmas spirit this year until 630 am on the day itself when I sat Josh down in the middle of his presents and watched him look on with fascination at the bright wrapping papers.
After every nasty cold and cough germ decided to descend upon us all (more than once in my case) in the last month and my husband being away with work I really hadn't been in the mood. The icing on the cake was when I had to verbally restrain my mother in law from bombarding Josh with presents even though she had promised everyone was only getting a couple of things. I did it very nicely but was then worried sick I'd upset her (even though it was something I felt strongly about) and had ruined Christmas before it had even properly started. Then I forgot to take down her Christmas present for my husband which I thought would seal my fate as most hated daughter in law.
I needn't have worried as I'm still alive and in fact she came to my rescue today when I cleverly locked myself out of their house at 7 am this morning while Josh was sat on his own in his highchair in their dining room. Panic stricken and almost hysterical I was running round the house screaming in between banging on the front door as loudly as I could to try and wake someone.. anyone up! I knew deep down Josh would be fine but when I learned today that being physically unable to get to your child is a form of torture. God knows how it must feel if you lose them in a crowd. Let's hope I never find out.. maybe I'll order a set of reins now!
Panic aside, it turned out to be a lovely Christmas. There is definitely something more magical about the day when it involves children and I can't wait until next year when Josh will be running in to jump on our bed on Christmas morning to wake us up to see if Father Christmas has been.
Tuesday, 27 December 2011
Friday, 23 December 2011
The End of the Breastfeeding Era
Its official. My breastfeeding days are over. Since I last posted I persisted in trying to feed Josh for a little while longer but sadly to no avail. I think I already knew deep down that he'd already made the decision to move on but I hadn't quite accepted it as he was still poorly and I was hoping he'd just go back to normal.
The ridiculous thing was that I was thinking of starting to switch a couple of feeds to the bottle because he'd become so difficult to feed in public and because of those 5 new gnashers that have just come through but I wasn't ready to go cold turkey in the way that Josh seemed to be. I think this is just the first of many examples which I will have to steel myself for where Josh is going to be 1 step ahead of me and I have to play catch up. He's clearly decided that he's far too grown up to be nestled into the crook of my arm being nursed and that he much prefers to hold his own bottle and sit up, staring at everything which is going on.
Don't get me wrong, I know I've been let off lightly. I think I've been saved any guilt which mums must feel if they take the decision to stop when their babies want to carry on but nothing prepared me for how difficult it would be for me to let go. For 3 days I kept breaking down at random moments. It truly felt like I was going through some kind of grieving process but that's exactly what it was. Our babies rely on us a life support machine when they're inside us and breastfeeding is simply a continuation of that - its that total dependency which added to a powerful dose of hormones means we feel a strong sense of being needed. The loss of being needed is partly what I feel I've lost and also the fact that its another milestone which marks the end of the proper baby phase.
As each day goes by though, I'm starting to look on the bright side - I can wear whatever I want now and I shall go and buy myself a new wardrobe in the January sale! I can leave Josh for more than 3 hours without worrying whether or not he's refusing to take a bottle. My husband can help with the night feeds - which have also reduced from 4 to 2, so I'm finally getting some more sleep hooray! I can give him a bottle whilst walking around Asda instead of having sing Old MacDonald to keep him entertained until I can get to a suitable breastfeeding location. So there are lots of positives which I keep focusing on.
I count my lucky stars that I've had such a great breastfeeding experience and I really hope that I'll get to repeat it all over again if I'm fortunate enough to have another baby. Will it be such an emotional rollercoaster when I have to give it up all over again... probably but like with childbirth and stretch marks, its all worth it in the end!
The ridiculous thing was that I was thinking of starting to switch a couple of feeds to the bottle because he'd become so difficult to feed in public and because of those 5 new gnashers that have just come through but I wasn't ready to go cold turkey in the way that Josh seemed to be. I think this is just the first of many examples which I will have to steel myself for where Josh is going to be 1 step ahead of me and I have to play catch up. He's clearly decided that he's far too grown up to be nestled into the crook of my arm being nursed and that he much prefers to hold his own bottle and sit up, staring at everything which is going on.
Don't get me wrong, I know I've been let off lightly. I think I've been saved any guilt which mums must feel if they take the decision to stop when their babies want to carry on but nothing prepared me for how difficult it would be for me to let go. For 3 days I kept breaking down at random moments. It truly felt like I was going through some kind of grieving process but that's exactly what it was. Our babies rely on us a life support machine when they're inside us and breastfeeding is simply a continuation of that - its that total dependency which added to a powerful dose of hormones means we feel a strong sense of being needed. The loss of being needed is partly what I feel I've lost and also the fact that its another milestone which marks the end of the proper baby phase.
As each day goes by though, I'm starting to look on the bright side - I can wear whatever I want now and I shall go and buy myself a new wardrobe in the January sale! I can leave Josh for more than 3 hours without worrying whether or not he's refusing to take a bottle. My husband can help with the night feeds - which have also reduced from 4 to 2, so I'm finally getting some more sleep hooray! I can give him a bottle whilst walking around Asda instead of having sing Old MacDonald to keep him entertained until I can get to a suitable breastfeeding location. So there are lots of positives which I keep focusing on.
I count my lucky stars that I've had such a great breastfeeding experience and I really hope that I'll get to repeat it all over again if I'm fortunate enough to have another baby. Will it be such an emotional rollercoaster when I have to give it up all over again... probably but like with childbirth and stretch marks, its all worth it in the end!
Sunday, 18 December 2011
Breastfeeding...it's been emotional
Josh is a few days shy of 6 months now and I'd always said to myself that I wanted to breastfeed for 6 months. However as time has gone on I have fallen head over heels in love with feeding him. So much so I had decided to go on for as long as possible - although I was definitely not going to become one of those mothers whose top is whipped up in public by their 4 yr old! However the last couple of weeks has been a bit of a breastfeeding rollercoaster.
Ever since Josh got his 2 bottom teeth 3 months ago he has occasionally nipped me but nothing really bad. The pain really came recently when his top teeth have come through! As always I googled and learned about teaching "breast manners" and had been starting to educate my son! It wasn't really working though.
To compound the problem he seemed to bite more when he was distracted and he has become so easily distracted in public lately. Josh doesn't seem to know the meaning of sit quietly and trying to have a coffee and cake has become an exercise in holding onto Josh who is busily trying to clamber into his pram or pull things out of the changing bag. It's a good job cake is eaten cold!
I've had to get the point of trying to use as few words and sounds as possible in conversations while feeding him to prevent him pulling off me in public and destroying what little remains of my dignity.
So I have been contemplating trying to switch to a beaker while we're out and about in a minor attempt to begin what i wanted to be a looooooong process of winding down the breastfeeding.
Even thinking about that has had me in tears in the same way I was sat on my living room sofa morning after morning 3 months ago in tears because I couldn't cope with the 6 feeds a night Josh was demanding and didn't want to introduce formula. Fatigue and breastfeeding hormones go together like wine and spirits on a night out., should never be mixed!!
I decided to stop worrying as it stopping would be months off using my grand plan. However the best laid plans of mice and men and all that... Josh hasn't fed from me in 4 days now. He's had a really bad cold and has just gone off milk. In between worrying about him the fatigue and hormones have been kicking in big time.
After 4 days of very little milk taken only from a bottle he's finally drinking more milk today which is fantastic but it's still from a bottle and not from me.
Yesterday I was devastated by the prospect of him stopping breastfeeding but after some good sleep last night Im starting to wonder if this is a blessing in disguise. Stopping breastfeeding was always going to be hard but maybe this way it's simply taking Josh's lead which is what I've done all along, whether that's moving him into his own room (although I was in tears that first night - he might have been ready but not so sure I was!), weaning or any other key steps. I think I'd feel guilty if I took the decision to stop breastfeeding.
Even though that's some rational thinking on my part (impressive for me!), you can't think or make any decision when it comes to breastfeeding without feeling a huge wave of emotion. Maybe it's the hormones or maybe its because it's the last close unique tie we have with our babies - it's something only we can do, like carrying them around for 9 months. Maybe it's the fact that it creates really intimate cosy cuddly moments with them - I love that first feed of the night (before I've gone to bed!) when Josh is still half asleep and he comes off me asleep with warm chubby cheeks where he's been cuddled into me - I can never resist cuddling him close for a while before putting him back down to sleep. Will there still be little moments like that if he moves permanently onto a bottle?
Most significantly of all though is how am I going to continue to eat cake without that extra 500 calories a day allowance?!
I think I need to stop thinking about it and just see what happens in the next few days when he gets over this cold. Either way I did what I set out to do and feeding him these last 6 months has been such a lovely experience and if I'm lucky enough to have another baby I'll really look forward to breastfeeding again.
Ever since Josh got his 2 bottom teeth 3 months ago he has occasionally nipped me but nothing really bad. The pain really came recently when his top teeth have come through! As always I googled and learned about teaching "breast manners" and had been starting to educate my son! It wasn't really working though.
To compound the problem he seemed to bite more when he was distracted and he has become so easily distracted in public lately. Josh doesn't seem to know the meaning of sit quietly and trying to have a coffee and cake has become an exercise in holding onto Josh who is busily trying to clamber into his pram or pull things out of the changing bag. It's a good job cake is eaten cold!
I've had to get the point of trying to use as few words and sounds as possible in conversations while feeding him to prevent him pulling off me in public and destroying what little remains of my dignity.
So I have been contemplating trying to switch to a beaker while we're out and about in a minor attempt to begin what i wanted to be a looooooong process of winding down the breastfeeding.
Even thinking about that has had me in tears in the same way I was sat on my living room sofa morning after morning 3 months ago in tears because I couldn't cope with the 6 feeds a night Josh was demanding and didn't want to introduce formula. Fatigue and breastfeeding hormones go together like wine and spirits on a night out., should never be mixed!!
I decided to stop worrying as it stopping would be months off using my grand plan. However the best laid plans of mice and men and all that... Josh hasn't fed from me in 4 days now. He's had a really bad cold and has just gone off milk. In between worrying about him the fatigue and hormones have been kicking in big time.
After 4 days of very little milk taken only from a bottle he's finally drinking more milk today which is fantastic but it's still from a bottle and not from me.
Yesterday I was devastated by the prospect of him stopping breastfeeding but after some good sleep last night Im starting to wonder if this is a blessing in disguise. Stopping breastfeeding was always going to be hard but maybe this way it's simply taking Josh's lead which is what I've done all along, whether that's moving him into his own room (although I was in tears that first night - he might have been ready but not so sure I was!), weaning or any other key steps. I think I'd feel guilty if I took the decision to stop breastfeeding.
Even though that's some rational thinking on my part (impressive for me!), you can't think or make any decision when it comes to breastfeeding without feeling a huge wave of emotion. Maybe it's the hormones or maybe its because it's the last close unique tie we have with our babies - it's something only we can do, like carrying them around for 9 months. Maybe it's the fact that it creates really intimate cosy cuddly moments with them - I love that first feed of the night (before I've gone to bed!) when Josh is still half asleep and he comes off me asleep with warm chubby cheeks where he's been cuddled into me - I can never resist cuddling him close for a while before putting him back down to sleep. Will there still be little moments like that if he moves permanently onto a bottle?
Most significantly of all though is how am I going to continue to eat cake without that extra 500 calories a day allowance?!
I think I need to stop thinking about it and just see what happens in the next few days when he gets over this cold. Either way I did what I set out to do and feeding him these last 6 months has been such a lovely experience and if I'm lucky enough to have another baby I'll really look forward to breastfeeding again.
Saturday, 3 December 2011
Teething has a lot to answer for!
#1 - our recent frequent night wakings coupled with a dose of Josh not wanting to go back to sleep as easily as he normally does = tired Alice.
#2 - refusing to eat the wonderful mush that I am providing which instills a fear that Josh will wake up more at night - total rubbish seeing the weaning hasn't helped him sleep more but my illogical brain still worries that it could make the nights worse!
#3 - Rudolph the red cheeked baby who starts crying randomly for no apparent reason.
#4 - the fact that it goes on and on and on and on... although I know we are lucky that at least we can tick some teeth off the list of those to come through
This time around it's different from when we were waiting for the first teeth to come through - I haven't reached for the teething powders because I no longer have a very irritable baby who is constantly rubbing his gums with his fist, crying lots especially when he's hungry and wanting to feed from me. Instead I have a mostly very happy baby (except for the occasional unexpected outburst but these are rare) but just one who wants to bite down even harder than usual on everything in sight. Ah well, keep em coming - faster they come through the faster I can stop blaming the teething for him
still waking up lots at night.. I'll have to find something else to blame instead.
#2 - refusing to eat the wonderful mush that I am providing which instills a fear that Josh will wake up more at night - total rubbish seeing the weaning hasn't helped him sleep more but my illogical brain still worries that it could make the nights worse!
#3 - Rudolph the red cheeked baby who starts crying randomly for no apparent reason.
#4 - the fact that it goes on and on and on and on... although I know we are lucky that at least we can tick some teeth off the list of those to come through
This time around it's different from when we were waiting for the first teeth to come through - I haven't reached for the teething powders because I no longer have a very irritable baby who is constantly rubbing his gums with his fist, crying lots especially when he's hungry and wanting to feed from me. Instead I have a mostly very happy baby (except for the occasional unexpected outburst but these are rare) but just one who wants to bite down even harder than usual on everything in sight. Ah well, keep em coming - faster they come through the faster I can stop blaming the teething for him
still waking up lots at night.. I'll have to find something else to blame instead.
Saturday, 26 November 2011
Sleep regression
I thought we were going back to the dark days this week. Gone were my nice and consistent 10 pm, 2 am and 5 am feeds and in came a baby who wanted to feed 5 times a night and wake crying for unknown reasons
in between feeds as well. Its so frustrating when you know they can sleep for longer (even though in Josh's case it's still only a maximum of 4 hours but boy do I love those 4 hours!). I'm not sure what upset the apple cart but I'm hoping whatever it was will right itself soon. I can't go back to the zombie days!! Still I think I'm finally accepting that it's impossible to fathom the reasons behind changes in Josh's daily rituals - or at least I've accepted that trying to fathom them out adds to the frustration so it's easier to just not go there! We'll get there in the end, one beautiful day he will sleep through the night... hopefully.
in between feeds as well. Its so frustrating when you know they can sleep for longer (even though in Josh's case it's still only a maximum of 4 hours but boy do I love those 4 hours!). I'm not sure what upset the apple cart but I'm hoping whatever it was will right itself soon. I can't go back to the zombie days!! Still I think I'm finally accepting that it's impossible to fathom the reasons behind changes in Josh's daily rituals - or at least I've accepted that trying to fathom them out adds to the frustration so it's easier to just not go there! We'll get there in the end, one beautiful day he will sleep through the night... hopefully.
Tuesday, 22 November 2011
Is routine such a good thing?
It wasn't until I poked my nose through Gina Ford's Contented Baby that I truly appreciated how much of a routine drill sergeant she really is. How on earth do you get your 4 month old (and by this stage very wilful and determined in my case) baby to sleep for 2 hours between the hours of 12 and 2 each day? What are you supposed to do when your baby is hungry at 2.15 pm but it's not feeding time until 3? No, Gina's routines were definitely not for me.
I laughed when any of my friends (especially the childless ones) asked me what time would be best to meet up to fit round Josh's routine. What routine?! We got up, Josh would eat, play, sleep and not necessarily in that order or indeed the same order during the days and every now and again I would manage to have a cold cup of tea. What more could a girl want?
Paradoxically for me (an avid spreadsheet queen and organisational control freak) I was happy just going with the flow and letting our days evolve around Josh and when he wanted to feed and nap. Unbeknownst to me, Josh had started his own nap routine but it wasn't until about 4 weeks ago that I realised. Since then I have been merrily putting him down to sleep at his self-designated times. To begin with I thought this was great - I had certainty each day and looked forward to hot-cup-of-tea-and-biscuit-time three times a day :-)
But I've been pondering lately whether having a routine is such a good thing. I seem to have gone from one extreme to another.
I've always followed the rule "never wake a sleeping baby" and for Josh it certainly makes him an even happier chap when he's had a lot of sleep but since realising when Josh likes to have his naps, I've gone a step further and started planning my day around them. I started having kittens if the plan for the day didn't work round his naps, scared that he would turn into some screaming monster in public who I wouldn't be able to quieten and he would never again sleep during the day. Ridiculous!
Whilst having a bit of a routine is nice (and somewhat unfortunately necessary I've found for the weaning process) I think it can be a dangerous thing too when you start clinging to it. It took a day out with one of my best friends (when Im ashamed to say I made her and her family plan their day around Josh's naps) to make me realise that there has to be a compromise when it comes to this mother-baby relationship. Babies need their sleep but we need our life too.
I laughed when any of my friends (especially the childless ones) asked me what time would be best to meet up to fit round Josh's routine. What routine?! We got up, Josh would eat, play, sleep and not necessarily in that order or indeed the same order during the days and every now and again I would manage to have a cold cup of tea. What more could a girl want?
Paradoxically for me (an avid spreadsheet queen and organisational control freak) I was happy just going with the flow and letting our days evolve around Josh and when he wanted to feed and nap. Unbeknownst to me, Josh had started his own nap routine but it wasn't until about 4 weeks ago that I realised. Since then I have been merrily putting him down to sleep at his self-designated times. To begin with I thought this was great - I had certainty each day and looked forward to hot-cup-of-tea-and-biscuit-time three times a day :-)
But I've been pondering lately whether having a routine is such a good thing. I seem to have gone from one extreme to another.
I've always followed the rule "never wake a sleeping baby" and for Josh it certainly makes him an even happier chap when he's had a lot of sleep but since realising when Josh likes to have his naps, I've gone a step further and started planning my day around them. I started having kittens if the plan for the day didn't work round his naps, scared that he would turn into some screaming monster in public who I wouldn't be able to quieten and he would never again sleep during the day. Ridiculous!
Whilst having a bit of a routine is nice (and somewhat unfortunately necessary I've found for the weaning process) I think it can be a dangerous thing too when you start clinging to it. It took a day out with one of my best friends (when Im ashamed to say I made her and her family plan their day around Josh's naps) to make me realise that there has to be a compromise when it comes to this mother-baby relationship. Babies need their sleep but we need our life too.
Tuesday, 15 November 2011
Embrace the squidge!
I'm not a vain person but I do feel like I am in a process of mourning my old body - not that it was a particularly great one, but it was one I had known for nearly 3 decades and I had grown used to and accepted the bits I didn't like. Now I have a new bit that I don't like, quite a large obvious bit in the form of my stomach which means my bikinis will be going in the next trip to the charity shop. The only advantage being that it makes the bits I didn't like before seem not so bad now!
If truth be told, I feel like I don't even recognise my stomach any more and 4 months on it still doesn't feel like its part of my body. Its not helped by the fact that I still have a large numb patch next to my caesarian scar which I don't hold up much hope of getting any better given the length of time which has passed. I can't bear anyone else touching my stomach and I can only just about stand to touch it myself - in fact I keep making myself touch it by rubbing in the bio oil to try and make the stripes disappear and to get used to it.
I keep telling myself that I will get used to my new stripey stomach but I think its going to take a while and buckets of bio oil in the process. Deep down I worry about going through the process again if we decide to have another baby. Will I reuse the old stretch marks or will I get even more? How can I get more stretch marks? There's no skin left on my stomach to stretch! Can you get stretch marks on stretch marks? Please God no!!
Aside from the numbness and the stretch marks, I do of course have a little baby pot belly but by contrast I'm actually quite attached to this new squidgy bit.
When I think of my own mum, I love her squidgy bits the most as those were the most comfy bits to cuddle into when I was a little girl. I think I'd be sad if my body came out of the 9 months of carrying Josh without some kind of badge of honour and for me that's my squidgy bits.
So despite the obvious war wounds
which I am still working on accepting, I love my new squidgy bits. They remind me of where my baby came from and I know they will be bits that Josh will love and want to cuddle into when he's older.
If truth be told, I feel like I don't even recognise my stomach any more and 4 months on it still doesn't feel like its part of my body. Its not helped by the fact that I still have a large numb patch next to my caesarian scar which I don't hold up much hope of getting any better given the length of time which has passed. I can't bear anyone else touching my stomach and I can only just about stand to touch it myself - in fact I keep making myself touch it by rubbing in the bio oil to try and make the stripes disappear and to get used to it.
I keep telling myself that I will get used to my new stripey stomach but I think its going to take a while and buckets of bio oil in the process. Deep down I worry about going through the process again if we decide to have another baby. Will I reuse the old stretch marks or will I get even more? How can I get more stretch marks? There's no skin left on my stomach to stretch! Can you get stretch marks on stretch marks? Please God no!!
Aside from the numbness and the stretch marks, I do of course have a little baby pot belly but by contrast I'm actually quite attached to this new squidgy bit.
When I think of my own mum, I love her squidgy bits the most as those were the most comfy bits to cuddle into when I was a little girl. I think I'd be sad if my body came out of the 9 months of carrying Josh without some kind of badge of honour and for me that's my squidgy bits.
So despite the obvious war wounds
which I am still working on accepting, I love my new squidgy bits. They remind me of where my baby came from and I know they will be bits that Josh will love and want to cuddle into when he's older.
Sunday, 13 November 2011
Maternal Guilt
There's nothing like it. I've felt guilty when a new scratch has appeared on Josh's face overnight.. if only I'd cut his nails yesterday he wouldn't have scratched himself. In fact I'm sat in bed right now feeling incredibly guilty that he has some nappy rash which wasn't there earlier today. You're told not to use nappy rash cream all the time so I only used it when necessary - although from now on it's going to be slathered on every time I change his nappy! What am I going to be like when he is properly ill or when I accidentally clonk him on the head whilst putting him in his car seat (which is going to happen as have had a couple of near misses already)? What about the dreaded return to work question as well - if I go back to work and he hurts himself, how am I going to feel if I'm not there to cuddle and comfort him?
When you carry a baby inside you for 9 months, it becomes such an integral part of you - you're more aware of this little being that kicks and wriggles around inside than you are of your own vital organs. You become its protective bubble wrap and that feeling has certainly never stopped since Josh was born and I'm guessing it never will. If one of those bubbles has popped and that protective wrapping has failed in anyway then the guilt comes flooding in. It must come down to coping strategies - I'll just have to find a way to "man up" to get through the rest of my lifetime as a guilt ridden mum.
When you carry a baby inside you for 9 months, it becomes such an integral part of you - you're more aware of this little being that kicks and wriggles around inside than you are of your own vital organs. You become its protective bubble wrap and that feeling has certainly never stopped since Josh was born and I'm guessing it never will. If one of those bubbles has popped and that protective wrapping has failed in anyway then the guilt comes flooding in. It must come down to coping strategies - I'll just have to find a way to "man up" to get through the rest of my lifetime as a guilt ridden mum.
Friday, 11 November 2011
He loves me!
Josh reached his arms towards me today in a definite "please cuddle me mummy" way for the second time in the last week. After the first time I thought it might have been a fluke but I don't believe in 2 flukes! In the same way that a smile or a gurgle melts your heart even in the depths of despair, it seems 2 little podgy arms reaching up towards you has the same heart warming effect. Again, again!!!
Sleep is for wimps!
When I was pregnant my brother asked me which one thing I thought I would find difficult to deal with once the baby arrived. Without hesitation, my answer was sleep! Let me make this abundantly clear - I love my bed and I love to sleep. If I didn't get at least 8 hours of deep, uninterrupted, beautiful sleep each night I would think that the night was wasted. My husband used to find it highly amusing that I had to be the first in bed - if I suspected in the slightest that he was about to go to bed, I would race upstairs to the bathroom so that I could pull on my PJs and be the first to jump into bed ready to greet the land of Nod. Even when I was a little girl my favourite book was "Peace at Last" by Jill Murphy which is about Mr Bear's attempt to try and get a good night's rest.
I knew that having a newborn would mean sleepless nights but I'd imposed a mental block on what the reality would be - after all, it would only be for 3 months after all and then I would be back to my 8+ hours of sleeping bliss! Everyone knows that something magical happens at 3 months when your baby starts sleeping through the night, you have a routine, the house is spotlessly clean, you find time to shave your legs and put on make up every day.. hmmmm.
When we reached that magical 3 month milestone, Josh was still waking up for feeds every 1.5 to 2 hours and I was a walking zombie. On the mornings which followed the bad nights, I would be in tears on the sofa not knowing what to do with myself or Josh for that matter. I felt guilty for not wanting to play with Josh on those days and to appease my guilt I would go to my sisters just so that someone would play properly with him. I felt ready to punch other people who asked me whether or not he was sleeping through yet, because of course their baby was sleeping through by 6 weeks (in the same way that I used to feel like punching anyone who asked me when my due date was as I looked "ready to drop" when I still had 4 weeks left to go... grrr).
I kept telling myself he was waking so much because he was a big hungry boy (he was 9lb 7oz when he was born) and I kept thinking back to one of the auxiliary nurses in the hospital who informed me just 9 hours after Josh had been born that I would have to do combined feeding because he was a big boy and that's what she had to do with both her sons. Deep down I didn't want to start giving Josh formula as the breastfeeding had been going so well in all other aspects.
I started blaming other things instead, starting with his 8 week growth spurt as that's when the sleep regression started. He'd been going 3 to 4 hours between feeds until we hit the 8 week mark. My husband was in the States and I remember being sat in bed in tears at 3 am starting at Josh who was lying in my lap and crying. I'd been feeding him every hour through the night and was at my wits end. I didn't realise at the time that growth spurts could be so horrendous and in retrospect I wish we'd discussed them in our NCT classes so that I knew what to expect. How could a growth spurt possibly last for 6 weeks though?! It couldn't possibly be that.
Next I decided it was down to teething. Nicely for us, that had also started at 8 weeks and coincided with the growth spurt nights from hell. That was fun. I researched everywhere and the consensus was generally that teething wasn't really to blame for night wakings. Damn.
I came back to hunger and decided maybe formula wasn't the answer for us - it must be weaning. I armed myself with some baby rice and some weaning spoons, determined that this was better than formula but Josh was only 14 weeks by this stage. Again in true Alice style I decided to collect opinions from as many people as possible to add to my confusion and I truly did end up in a muddle. "Once you start you can't stop", "babies only need milk for the first 6 months", "just because your baby is waking up early doesn't mean it needs solid food", "we were all weaned at 3 months and there's nothing wrong with us" - so many different views led to a very confused Alice so I held off. Weaning is such a major step and I didn't want to start it as a knee jerk reaction to a sleep problem. I would wait until Josh was good and ready.
I got frustrated with my mum telling me that I just had to "go with the flow" and "muddle through" and I
rebelled in my own quiet way by buying dozens of books on sleep. I was convinced that the answer to Josh's frequent night wakings was there in black and white. If I couldn't get any sleep, it felt comforting to at least read about it and feel like I was doing something to take control!! I needed some kind of light at the end of the tunnel and I just couldn't see any, especially as I had expected the worst of the sleepless nights to be behind us by 3 months but that was the crux of my problem - expectation!
Once I'd managed to let go of my expectations and my need to control things (easier said than done, especially if you come from a busy professional background), everything became a lot easier. I accepted that there would be bad nights and I would just have to "muddle through" the following day and I accepted that I should not be trying to find an end to them and just took each day as it came. Even now Josh still wakes 3 times a night for a feed but that's ok. I've forgotten what it feels like to go to bed at 10 pm and wake up the following morning at 8.30 am and that's a good thing. One day it will happen again and when it does I shall be a very happy bunny but don't all good things come to those who wait?
I knew that having a newborn would mean sleepless nights but I'd imposed a mental block on what the reality would be - after all, it would only be for 3 months after all and then I would be back to my 8+ hours of sleeping bliss! Everyone knows that something magical happens at 3 months when your baby starts sleeping through the night, you have a routine, the house is spotlessly clean, you find time to shave your legs and put on make up every day.. hmmmm.
When we reached that magical 3 month milestone, Josh was still waking up for feeds every 1.5 to 2 hours and I was a walking zombie. On the mornings which followed the bad nights, I would be in tears on the sofa not knowing what to do with myself or Josh for that matter. I felt guilty for not wanting to play with Josh on those days and to appease my guilt I would go to my sisters just so that someone would play properly with him. I felt ready to punch other people who asked me whether or not he was sleeping through yet, because of course their baby was sleeping through by 6 weeks (in the same way that I used to feel like punching anyone who asked me when my due date was as I looked "ready to drop" when I still had 4 weeks left to go... grrr).
I kept telling myself he was waking so much because he was a big hungry boy (he was 9lb 7oz when he was born) and I kept thinking back to one of the auxiliary nurses in the hospital who informed me just 9 hours after Josh had been born that I would have to do combined feeding because he was a big boy and that's what she had to do with both her sons. Deep down I didn't want to start giving Josh formula as the breastfeeding had been going so well in all other aspects.
I started blaming other things instead, starting with his 8 week growth spurt as that's when the sleep regression started. He'd been going 3 to 4 hours between feeds until we hit the 8 week mark. My husband was in the States and I remember being sat in bed in tears at 3 am starting at Josh who was lying in my lap and crying. I'd been feeding him every hour through the night and was at my wits end. I didn't realise at the time that growth spurts could be so horrendous and in retrospect I wish we'd discussed them in our NCT classes so that I knew what to expect. How could a growth spurt possibly last for 6 weeks though?! It couldn't possibly be that.
Next I decided it was down to teething. Nicely for us, that had also started at 8 weeks and coincided with the growth spurt nights from hell. That was fun. I researched everywhere and the consensus was generally that teething wasn't really to blame for night wakings. Damn.
I came back to hunger and decided maybe formula wasn't the answer for us - it must be weaning. I armed myself with some baby rice and some weaning spoons, determined that this was better than formula but Josh was only 14 weeks by this stage. Again in true Alice style I decided to collect opinions from as many people as possible to add to my confusion and I truly did end up in a muddle. "Once you start you can't stop", "babies only need milk for the first 6 months", "just because your baby is waking up early doesn't mean it needs solid food", "we were all weaned at 3 months and there's nothing wrong with us" - so many different views led to a very confused Alice so I held off. Weaning is such a major step and I didn't want to start it as a knee jerk reaction to a sleep problem. I would wait until Josh was good and ready.
I got frustrated with my mum telling me that I just had to "go with the flow" and "muddle through" and I
rebelled in my own quiet way by buying dozens of books on sleep. I was convinced that the answer to Josh's frequent night wakings was there in black and white. If I couldn't get any sleep, it felt comforting to at least read about it and feel like I was doing something to take control!! I needed some kind of light at the end of the tunnel and I just couldn't see any, especially as I had expected the worst of the sleepless nights to be behind us by 3 months but that was the crux of my problem - expectation!
Once I'd managed to let go of my expectations and my need to control things (easier said than done, especially if you come from a busy professional background), everything became a lot easier. I accepted that there would be bad nights and I would just have to "muddle through" the following day and I accepted that I should not be trying to find an end to them and just took each day as it came. Even now Josh still wakes 3 times a night for a feed but that's ok. I've forgotten what it feels like to go to bed at 10 pm and wake up the following morning at 8.30 am and that's a good thing. One day it will happen again and when it does I shall be a very happy bunny but don't all good things come to those who wait?
Monday, 7 November 2011
Pregnancy Glow or Pregnancy Woe?
There's something about a pregnant women - you can't help but look. I used to stop and stare at pregnant women with a pang of jealousy and think I can't wait for my time to be pregnant. It looked so lovely to be waddling around with a big bump which contained your little bundle of joy kicking away inside so when I fell pregnant I could not WAIT to get my bump! And it didn't disappoint, I loved being pregnant... to begin with!
I was on my own when I found out I was pregnant as my husband was working away in the States. I couldn't believe it when I was staring at those blue lines. I had to text my husband to ask him to call me so that I could tell him over the phone. I had imagined that we would find out I was pregnant together and have one of those huge hugs whilst I would be squealing with excitement but instead I was squealing with excitement on my own with the cats staring at me quizzically (little did they know that they had 9 months of attention before being demoted in the attention ranks of the household!).
I think I had about 5 minutes of excitement before I started worrying about everything as I knew nothing... what could I eat/not eat from now? could I still do poos or would the baby fall out? Oh b8gg8r, I had 3 glasses of champagne, 2 glass of wine and 2 G&Ts at that wedding yesterday - have I pickled my baby?
I lay aside my worries temporarily and calculated my dates and worked out that 14 June was the big day for us! It sounded like such a lovely day too. Next I downloaded the Baby Centre app which told you what your baby looked like each week and I devoured all the pictures with glee. I even later downloaded it on one of my friend's phones as I wanted everyone to be a part of what was going on inside me although that did lead to lots of questions about why my un-pregnant friend had a pregnancy app on her phone.
It was like having the best secret in the world - it felt so special and I was so excited I wanted to scream it aloud... IM PREGNNNAAAAANNT! I know we had to wait to the 12 week scan though to make sure everything was ok, which it was. Watching a little bean with arms and legs kicking away reduced me to a tearful wreck at that first scan.
I was extremely lucky to begin with as I didn't get any morning sickness - just the extreme tiredness in the early stages when your body is adjusting to growing this amazing new life inside you and 8.30 was my bedtime for about a month.
I still remember vividly the first little flutter of movement and how excited I felt. It was amazing how quickly those little flutters became proper kicks - literally within a matter of weeks I was getting pummelled inside. I loved watching the ripples of movement across my bump wondering what the little being inside would be like.
Despite being a control freak in all other aspects of my life, I really didn't want to know what the sex was which amazed and frustrated everyone else who wanted to know. I wanted it to be a surprise and I wanted that moment when the baby arrived when the midwife would say "its a boy!" or "its a girl!". Deep down I also secretly wanted a boy first and I was worried that I would be disappointed at the scan if it was a girl, whereas I knew that if I waited until the birth I really wouldn't care either way as I would have fallen deeply in love with my baby.
When my bump started getting to be quite prominent I started worrying about stretch marks and decided to be proactive. I had gotten a lot of stretch marks during puberty and hated them so I didn't want any more thank you very much. I decided a regime of rubbing of bio oil and vaseline intensive moisturiser onto my stomach twice a day should do the trick. Sadly not - I think if I sat in a bath of bio oil every day for 9 months it wouldn't have made any difference. I am testament to the fact that you either get them or you don't, I don't think it makes any difference what you do - it's down to your genes.
At the time when I had my bump though I didn't mind so much as I would stare in adoration of my growing bump. In fact everything was great... until 34 weeks! It coincided with my starting maternity leave and boy am I glad I started it then.
Firstly there came the aching hips and thighs at night time from lying on one side or the other, which would wake me up. I couldn't wait to get up in the morning - as soon as it was 6 am I was up!! So much for lots of rest in the weeks leading up to the due date, I hated bed! At the same time our sofa slowly disappeared whilst an ever growing mound of cushions appeared which I used to wedge myself in.
Then the waddle and the rocking. Neither could I walk faster than a tortoise nor I stand still for more than 2 minutes before having to rock from side to side to soothe my aching back, failing which I'd just have to sit down wherever I was - be that in the middle of the pets aisle in Asda or anywhere else!
Then came the Farmer Giles - I was so naive I didn't even know what they were and couldn't work out why it was so painful to sit down all of a sudden. I googled them and clicked on the images - knowing full well that I shouldn't be doing it and well, I was proved right as I lived to regret looking at the pictures. Anyway they were an unpleasant experience which I have now filed in the "let's forget that ever happened" box next to the "sh@t happens" box in the recesses of my increasingly vacant mind.
Next the NHS graphs and textbook measurements which my bump didn't conform to. I freely admit it - I was huge but despite putting on the average weight of 3 stone, I measured 4 weeks bigger than I "should" have been according to the extremely subjective current tape measure test used by midwives. I got sent for lots of extra growth scans which just ended up in my getting frustrated by the interference in what I felt was a time when you just needed to trust your body.
On top of all that my extremities were swelling beyond recognition - my rings no longer fitted and even my trusty Birkenstocks were leaving indentations in my puffy feet when I took them off.
Lastly there was the waiting - when would it happen? would it ever happen or would I end up the star of one of those Sky shock documentaries - "The Woman Who Never Gave Birth".
In retrospect I think all of that is necessary to make you want to push that baby out when the time comes! Although I loved the first and second trimesters, I was well and truly ready to have my body back to myself by the end. Pregnancy truly is an amazing experience though - our female bodies have so much capability and can sustain so much strain on them which we have no concept of until we put them to the test. I now have a new found respect for my body which I never had before.
I was on my own when I found out I was pregnant as my husband was working away in the States. I couldn't believe it when I was staring at those blue lines. I had to text my husband to ask him to call me so that I could tell him over the phone. I had imagined that we would find out I was pregnant together and have one of those huge hugs whilst I would be squealing with excitement but instead I was squealing with excitement on my own with the cats staring at me quizzically (little did they know that they had 9 months of attention before being demoted in the attention ranks of the household!).
I think I had about 5 minutes of excitement before I started worrying about everything as I knew nothing... what could I eat/not eat from now? could I still do poos or would the baby fall out? Oh b8gg8r, I had 3 glasses of champagne, 2 glass of wine and 2 G&Ts at that wedding yesterday - have I pickled my baby?
I lay aside my worries temporarily and calculated my dates and worked out that 14 June was the big day for us! It sounded like such a lovely day too. Next I downloaded the Baby Centre app which told you what your baby looked like each week and I devoured all the pictures with glee. I even later downloaded it on one of my friend's phones as I wanted everyone to be a part of what was going on inside me although that did lead to lots of questions about why my un-pregnant friend had a pregnancy app on her phone.
It was like having the best secret in the world - it felt so special and I was so excited I wanted to scream it aloud... IM PREGNNNAAAAANNT! I know we had to wait to the 12 week scan though to make sure everything was ok, which it was. Watching a little bean with arms and legs kicking away reduced me to a tearful wreck at that first scan.
I was extremely lucky to begin with as I didn't get any morning sickness - just the extreme tiredness in the early stages when your body is adjusting to growing this amazing new life inside you and 8.30 was my bedtime for about a month.
I still remember vividly the first little flutter of movement and how excited I felt. It was amazing how quickly those little flutters became proper kicks - literally within a matter of weeks I was getting pummelled inside. I loved watching the ripples of movement across my bump wondering what the little being inside would be like.
Despite being a control freak in all other aspects of my life, I really didn't want to know what the sex was which amazed and frustrated everyone else who wanted to know. I wanted it to be a surprise and I wanted that moment when the baby arrived when the midwife would say "its a boy!" or "its a girl!". Deep down I also secretly wanted a boy first and I was worried that I would be disappointed at the scan if it was a girl, whereas I knew that if I waited until the birth I really wouldn't care either way as I would have fallen deeply in love with my baby.
When my bump started getting to be quite prominent I started worrying about stretch marks and decided to be proactive. I had gotten a lot of stretch marks during puberty and hated them so I didn't want any more thank you very much. I decided a regime of rubbing of bio oil and vaseline intensive moisturiser onto my stomach twice a day should do the trick. Sadly not - I think if I sat in a bath of bio oil every day for 9 months it wouldn't have made any difference. I am testament to the fact that you either get them or you don't, I don't think it makes any difference what you do - it's down to your genes.
At the time when I had my bump though I didn't mind so much as I would stare in adoration of my growing bump. In fact everything was great... until 34 weeks! It coincided with my starting maternity leave and boy am I glad I started it then.
Firstly there came the aching hips and thighs at night time from lying on one side or the other, which would wake me up. I couldn't wait to get up in the morning - as soon as it was 6 am I was up!! So much for lots of rest in the weeks leading up to the due date, I hated bed! At the same time our sofa slowly disappeared whilst an ever growing mound of cushions appeared which I used to wedge myself in.
Then the waddle and the rocking. Neither could I walk faster than a tortoise nor I stand still for more than 2 minutes before having to rock from side to side to soothe my aching back, failing which I'd just have to sit down wherever I was - be that in the middle of the pets aisle in Asda or anywhere else!
Then came the Farmer Giles - I was so naive I didn't even know what they were and couldn't work out why it was so painful to sit down all of a sudden. I googled them and clicked on the images - knowing full well that I shouldn't be doing it and well, I was proved right as I lived to regret looking at the pictures. Anyway they were an unpleasant experience which I have now filed in the "let's forget that ever happened" box next to the "sh@t happens" box in the recesses of my increasingly vacant mind.
Next the NHS graphs and textbook measurements which my bump didn't conform to. I freely admit it - I was huge but despite putting on the average weight of 3 stone, I measured 4 weeks bigger than I "should" have been according to the extremely subjective current tape measure test used by midwives. I got sent for lots of extra growth scans which just ended up in my getting frustrated by the interference in what I felt was a time when you just needed to trust your body.
On top of all that my extremities were swelling beyond recognition - my rings no longer fitted and even my trusty Birkenstocks were leaving indentations in my puffy feet when I took them off.
Lastly there was the waiting - when would it happen? would it ever happen or would I end up the star of one of those Sky shock documentaries - "The Woman Who Never Gave Birth".
In retrospect I think all of that is necessary to make you want to push that baby out when the time comes! Although I loved the first and second trimesters, I was well and truly ready to have my body back to myself by the end. Pregnancy truly is an amazing experience though - our female bodies have so much capability and can sustain so much strain on them which we have no concept of until we put them to the test. I now have a new found respect for my body which I never had before.
Introduction
Hi,
My name is Alice - I'm a wife, daughter, sister, friend, lawyer and most recently mum to a 4 month old little boy called Josh. During my spare (ha!) time, I've decided to become acquainted with the world that is blogging (I'm also only just discovering the world of Twitter so I'm a bit behind the rest of the world). I've always been someone who wears my heart on my sleeve and becoming a mum has been one of the most emotive things which has happened to me so I have decided to try pouring out my thoughts and experiences in written text for a change. My aim is to give an honest account of my ups and downs of being a mum. There will be articles on specific hot topics as well as diary blog entries every now and again. We'll see how it goes anyway!
X
My name is Alice - I'm a wife, daughter, sister, friend, lawyer and most recently mum to a 4 month old little boy called Josh. During my spare (ha!) time, I've decided to become acquainted with the world that is blogging (I'm also only just discovering the world of Twitter so I'm a bit behind the rest of the world). I've always been someone who wears my heart on my sleeve and becoming a mum has been one of the most emotive things which has happened to me so I have decided to try pouring out my thoughts and experiences in written text for a change. My aim is to give an honest account of my ups and downs of being a mum. There will be articles on specific hot topics as well as diary blog entries every now and again. We'll see how it goes anyway!
X
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