Babies
« Previous Entries Next Entries »The first month with a newborn
Saturday, June 7th, 2008March 27 2008
The first month with a newborn: umm, nothing gets done. Except feeding, changing nappies and not getting any sleep.
In between, you can find me and him like this:
Cute, no? But not conducive to getting stuff done, including looking after his three older siblings, none of whom can look after themselves in any way, shape or form.
Homeschool? Er, lots of unschooling methods in operation at the moment. But the children are learning just as much as when we sit at a desk most of the day (although I shouldn’t be surprised, because I know unschooling methods work really well, I just can’t bring myself to adopt them completely, simply out of fear that I might screw up my children’s education). William left preschool last term and so I am homeschooling him and Harry while Ben, my loving but oh-so-wilful two year old, demolishes the house out of boredom (I jest! he sit’s at the table doing his ’schoolwork’ - out of choice I should add, not because I am hothousing him so he becomes a maths prodigy by age five). Edward the baby sits frogging on my chest, no doubt taking it all in so that he will be reading and writing before he is even one.
The chores remain undone.
I cook many meals one-handed.
I get no sleep.
I get no time to do anything except look after children all through the day and then all through the night too.
Fun times.
But then my children gather round me and the baby and we all coo at him and I remember why I am doing this.
**************
Of course, this should actually have been posted a few weeks ago, when the baby was actually a month old, but I am determined to keep a record of his early days even if it does require a little ‘delay’ with some of the posts. And anyway, I start these posts and then there’s no way I’m not going to finish them, given how long it takes me to write anything these days.
Subscribe Via Email OR
Subscribe Via RSS
OR
5 Comments »
Posted in Babies
The first week with a newborn
Tuesday, April 8th, 2008I started this when I came home from the hospital. It’s taken me four weeks to write these few words. Yes, I’m just a little bit busier than I thought I would be.
*****************
March 16 2008
Day Zero
I’m moved to the post-natal ward. I can’t feel anything from the waist down which is a blessing judging by the midwives reaction when they look at my perineum, or what’s left of it.
I scoff breakfast even though I’ve just eaten another breakfast on the labour ward. The baby is asleep. Seconds later I fall into a coma which is a mistake because I miss lunch. Have they no idea that a post-partum woman needs food? And lots of it. I raid the kitchen and find my lunch being kept warm. I eat that and then raid the kitchen again. And again. The midwife comes to tell me my baby is awake. I look at her with a mouthful of toast. I would feel more ashamed that I’ve been caught neglecting my baby in favour of food if I wasn’t still so hungry.
The afternoon is filled with visitors. Matthew brings the boys in to meet their new brother but they’re more interested in the presents the baby has brought them. About ten minutes after arriving Ben looks up and with a look of shock and surprise on his face he points and exlaims ‘baby’. I fully expect him to go round to the cot and try and beat him over the head or something but the baby doesn’t register on his radar again. I don’t think he’s expecting the baby to be a permanent addition.
The midwife runs me a bath. I nearly faint when I wash myself and vow not, under any circumstances, to look ‘down there’. The baby is asleep so I fall gratefully into another coma but the midwives have other ideas and wake me in order to stick me full of antibiotics. The anaethesist comes to visit and I have to restrain myself from throwing myself at him and smothering him with hugs and kisses in gratuity for my epidural. Later, the registrar who delivered my baby comes to visit, putting his head round the curtain uncertainly. I smile and he looks just a little bit relieved. He gave me a near-perfect birth, I can just about forgive him for the torture - the incredible torture - he put me through when he broke my waters. Maybe.
Day One
I am ready to go home as soon as the last antibiotics are dripped into me but the midwives are too busy to do the paperwork so I spend the day gazing at my perfect baby and try not to think about how much I miss my other children. I hear the mother across from me sobbing. The curtains are closed but I can’t listen to her crying like that and not see if she’s OK. I spend the next hour with her as she tells me how she and her premature baby were due to go home today until her elder child came down with chickenpox. She’s been in hospital for eight weeks already and now faces another ten days. I can’t say anything to help so I sit with my arm around her. I’ve missed my boys after just three days. I couldn’t fathom weeks without them.
The baby feeds desperately. My milk hasn’t come in and he’s hungry. I’m sore and my nipples are starting to crack and bleed. By the afternoon he’s biting on my nipples in desperation. I ask the midwife for a bottle of formula. I explain that I gave two of my elder children a bottle before my milk came in because they were so big and so hungry. ‘It could stop him breastfeeding,’ the midwife reminds me. I try to reassure her that I will breastfeed exclusively once my milk comes in and it hasn’t been a problem before. She defers to my experience and I realise with horror it is because I have, in her eyes, had So Many Babies. My instincts are right though: the baby gulps half the bottle and falls into a blissful sleep.
We make it home and I sink onto the sofa, sore and tired. But I can’t believe that I’m home the day after giving birth. It’s wonderful.
Day Two
The baby will not sleep. If I put him down he wakes within five minutes, crying. But my milk has come in and he feeds at length. It is agony despite applying Lansinoh religiously. I yelp in pain when he latches on and sit there gripping the sofa cushions. It’s a long, painful, tiring day.
Day Three
I got no sleep last night. Edward spent the night frogging on my chest while I attempted not to fall asleep and smother him. Every time I put him down he woke crying. More feeding pain and the only thing that gets me through it is knowing that the pain doesn’t last for many more days. I wonder if I have the will to last that long.
Day Four
Another night with no sleep and I feel sick with fatigue. The midwife visits and I try to hold it together in front of her. I don’t want her marking me down as having post natal depression. Not if it’s just due to lack of sleep.
Day Five
The baby finally slept a bit last night. That’s the thing about sleep deprivation - just when you think you can’t go on, you get just enough sleep to survive further sleep deprivation, thereby prolonging the agony.
Day Six
I’m a mess today. I can’t stop crying. I’m tired. I have a cracking headache. I miss my dog. I shout at my children. Then I cry some more. Matthew stands back knowing nothing much will help me today. I fall into bed and cry until I fall asleep. But at some ungodly hour, the baby wakes me and I realise gratefully that my headache has gone. I feel less tired and a bit more hopeful about the day to come. As I fall asleep I look at the clock: 04:09. Exactly a week since my son was born. I have survived.
Subscribe Via Email OR
Subscribe Via RSS
OR
13 Comments »
Posted in Babies
A birth announcement. Finally!
Monday, March 17th, 2008He’s here!
This is Edward, my perfect fourth son, born on Sunday after a 48 hour labour and weighing 8lbs 12 oz.
I’m exhausted but I will post more as soon as I’ve had some sleep. If you don’t hear from me you can assume my bed has swallowed me whole.
***********
Sorry if you’ve had trouble leaving comments. They should be working again now.
Subscribe Via Email OR
Subscribe Via RSS
OR
20 Comments »
Posted in Babies
Screamer and the blessing of motherhood
Friday, August 17th, 2007Ben, a busy, busy nineteen-month-old, has become a screamer.
I sort of remember his older brothers going through a similar phase and being similarly fed up with it, but this time it feels like a pick-axe through the brain. Did it feel like that last time? I can’t remember. That’s the blessing of motherhood: you forget the really crap parts. Because otherwise none of us would ever have more than one child and the human race would go the way of my brain: long gone.
I do what goes against every grain in my body and ignore his screaming because I know it’s the only way to bring this phase to a short, sharp end. But there’s a lot of counting to ten. Also, I’ve bought some earplugs and I’m not afraid to use them. Just must remember to take them out if someone comes to the door.
But it’s the nightime screaming, bolt upright, demanding immediate attention for nothing in particular - not nightmares, not teething, just because - that really gets me. I am defibrillated off the bed, heart pounding, skin prickling with fear, because, because what? Because he feels like having a little scream at three o’clock in the morning.
And I can’t ignore it because it’s a primeval reaction: my baby’s being eaten by a dinosaur! Must protect! But then I see him looking at me: ‘Mama!’ he exclaims, absolutely amazed to see me at this time of night. And then he screams again. And smiles. Look what I can do!
Back in bed I steady my adrenalin-fuelled body and lie awake. For a long time. When I go back to sleep I dream of him being carted off by a dinosaur. Is it a nightmare or a blissful dream? After his behaviour, I’m not so sure. But that’s also the blessing of motherhood: by the morning my brain makes sure I can’t remember.
Subscribe Via Email OR
Subscribe Via RSS
OR
2 Comments »
Posted in Babies
How do you decide whether or not to have another baby?
Monday, July 16th, 2007Updated: Okay, sorry about the comments not working. I’m not sure what I did to break them and I’m even less sure what I did to fix them. In short, never ever hire me as your blog site designer.
***********
A little while ago Geepeemum asked me whether, as she has two beautiful children, a girl and a boy, she would be crazy to consider having a third. Olivia also asked me whether we were planning on having another child. There are timely questions for me and Matthew as we consider whether, as we already have three wonderful - but very young - boys, we would be stark raving mad to have a fourth child. My last pregnancy was dreadful and Ben’s first year was tricky to say the least, and these things are weighing heavily on my mind as we decide whether we have the strength to go through another hideous pregnancy and the pretty horrendous first six months of sleep deprivation with a newborn. Also, I now homeschool my children. My husband isn’t here much. My children are all still so young. I’m lucky if I get ten minutes to myself a day at the moment as it is. These things tell my rational self: no way.
Some of my friends are adamant they don’t want any more children. They know their families are complete. Others are less certain: they ask me how I know I want another baby. The answer is simple: I know that if I don’t have another, I will regret it all my life. For all the hard moments with small children there are the moments that make life worth living. And I mean really worth living. The moments that make you think this is what I am here for, this role, these children. And of course there are all the other small moments which bring joy: first smiles, milky-sleepy faces, freshly-washed heads, bedtime cuddles, toddler stories that make you laugh which bore others rigid when retold. All those things that you can count at the end of the day, even if heavily outweighed by the awful things they have done, that make you realise you can face another day.
And so I know that despite all the initial hardships it will bring, we will have another baby.
Which is just as well. Because there was a blue line on the stick yesterday.
**************
Pregnant? Don’t forget to bookmark this page and follow my posts as I cope/don’t cope with pregnancy and dealing with a newborn.
Click here for my latest post.
Subscribe Via Email OR
Subscribe Via RSS
OR
18 Comments »
Posted in Babies, Pregnancy
« Previous Entries Next Entries »