The low days

Being a mum is everything I thought it would be and more. It's terrifying, wonderful and fulfilling all at once and I wouldn't change an ounce (yes everything is now measured in ounces!) of it for the world. Harry is particularly happy first thing in the morning and the overwhelming love I feel when I walk into his nursery each morning and see his little smiling face looking up at me is my absolute favourite thing in the world.

Having said all of that, I'd be lying if I said there weren't some "low days". Before I'm criticised for being a bad mother, this had nothing to do with Harry. He is perfect and when I think of him I feel ridiculous for even feeling a little low on the odd day.

The biggest change that has come with motherhood in terms of 'me' is that these days I spend a lot of time alone, obviously Harry is with me but he's still young and sleeps a lot so often I feel quite alone. In my former life, I was a busy PR girl with a hectic social life who was out at least 3 nights a week and also the centre of any party. I've never been someone who enjoys my own company, I love being surrounded by people so I've really noticed the change. These days things are rather different, I spend 
my days with my little boy, feeding, changing and cuddling him and my evening's with my husband eating dinner, watching a little TV and getting to bed as early as possible to feel refreshed for the next day. Every day I do try and do one social thing, I meet with my antenatal friends, or other mummy friends or spend time with my mum & dad who thankfully live very close, but the alone time is weird. In some ways I utterly love it, so much bonding time with my wee man, time to think, time to sit and read a magazine and chat to other mummy's across coffee shops... but there are moments when I can't get over how different my life is now. It's quite an insular life, my lovely mummy friends love to hear news about Harry's development, issues, poos, wees, feeds, sleeps and so on but my other friends certainly aren't as interested and let's be honest, who can blame them? Sometimes I am every bored listening to myself go on!

Another change that at times gets me down is worry. I don't know about other mummy's but I find myself obsessing like mad about how much my son eats, sleeps and poos. This weeks example... since moving onto formula, we've been giving Harry one particular brand of pre-made form. For many reasons we decided to try and get him onto powder last week over one unsuccessful attempt a few weeks back. After 10 days of trial, several sleepless nights and some of the most painstaking feeds of all time (we are talking hours) we've switched back to pre-made and my boy is once again loving his food. Everyone told me to persevere, once again I should have trusted my instincts and I'm a little disappointed with myself that I didn't. This is just one example of many. I am a very confident mum and am blessed with a very easy son but there are times when I worry so much that it gets me a little down and the funny thing is, I know all the answers. I don't need to look on websites, or ask friends or experts for advice, I have strong instincts and know my boy so well, but a society of Goggle'rs has led us to question every little decision we make and worry about every little cough our babies have!

The final culprit for the low days. SLEEP DEPRIVATION. I am not someone who needs a lot of sleep and actually since having Harry I've realised that I don't need as much sleep as I thought I did. Having said that, there have been days, for example when moving Harry into his crib, or trying to get him to sleep through the night, when I've had to function on practically no sleep. These days are very hard and lead to a very moody mummy. 

Mums, I salute you. Looking after little babies is hard. Maternity leave is tough, not a year to put your feet up and relax. These little ones take a lot of time and attention, of course it is the most rewarding and magical time of my life but I want to acknowledge the tough times, the hard times, when we feel a little down as no one talks about it as it might make us look ungrateful or feel like failures or bad mummy's. It's mostly fun and games this parenting lark, but not all ;-)

Here's a little snap of me and my boy (the first snap of me I've shared on here), on a particularly good day.

Night all x

Hush little baby

This week will be week 11. Whilst I wasn't too bothered at the start about getting Harry into a routine, the time has come to try and get a little regularity into his sleeping & easting pattern.

Whilst in theory this is an excellent idea, my little boy is rather strong willed and won't be told what to do. Don't get me wrong, he's very well behaved and from day one basically formed his own little routine (eating in the day every 3 hours, between 100 & 180 ml a feed and sleeping roughly 6 hours in the night).

Whilst I'd love him to take a big old feed before bed, he rarely does.. this tends to be when he is least hungry which is a little heartbreaking but what can you do? The boy has a mind, and tummy of his own and won't be told when or how much to eat.

The big change came when he got too big for his Moses basket and so had to be moved to his big boy bed.... 

The first night was the most... interesting. He'd been out of our room in his nursery for a few days but had of course been in his basket which we placed in the cot. 

We tried initially to use cellular blankets to tuck him in nice and tight. He had a lovely warm bath, a nice big feed and fell asleep in my arms before I had a chance to put him down. A few hours passed, the hubs and I had dinner... watched some telly and got ready for bed, all the while we of course were obsessively watching our boy sleep in his big boy bed terrified that he'd wake and be utterly confused about his surroundings.

At 1am it happened. I watched him wake-up, stretch out his arms and totally freak out. For the first time in his life he was in a sleeping situation that included space!! You can understand his shock. This shock of course led to a very restless night for all members of the family. The cellular blanket was quickly replaced with a grow bag for fear that his intense wriggling would result in suffocation. 

The next night was just as bad... he was asleep for a few hours but by no means was he in a deep sleep... tossing and turning and working himself into a bit of a state.  As this was Friday night, it meant that Daddy was on the night feed (I live for Friday & Saturday nights these days!) anyway a couple of moments after he went in, armed with a bottle of delicious warm milk I heard a shocked screech... "come & see this!" 

I of course sprung out of bed and rushed into the nursery. This night was the first in his grow bag as we felt that he'd feel more secure and compact and a little cooler than he would be with a blanket. As I looked down at my little boy in his cot, I was rather surprised to find that he'd completely swivelled himself round so that his head was no longer facing up with his feet close to the bottom of the cot... his head now was against the bars and his feet against the other side. I am sure this is pretty common but we didn't know that! Of course my little boys flexibility and hyperactive sleeping meant that once again, I was faced with a sleepless night obsessively watching him on the monitor for fear he'd bash his head against the side of the cot. I know people say not to use bumpers but surely they are better than a damaged head? Any thoughts on this particularly topic are more than welcome!! 

Tonight is night 4 in his cot. Last night was a little better with a 3 & 6.30am wake-up... here's hoping that tonight is even better. It's funny watching Harry react to all this change, it really is a bit of race where more and more hurdles are placed in front of you as you near the finish line...

I just can't imagine how I'll cope with potty training or the dreaded move to a "real" big boy bed! Lots to look forward to!! Thank the Lord for coffee eh?! 

A new scent...

Every noticed that you smell of your baby? It's a funny smell, a mixture of the delicious baby scent, poo, wee & a little vomit thrown in for good measure.

I remember climbing to bed with the hubs when Harry was just a couple weeks old, after an early morning/late night/who the hell knows at that point feed. As the hubs snuggled up to me, he quietly whispered in my ear... "You smell of the baby". He wasn't being anything but honest. I totally did and I totally loved it.

The other day a friend (this friend doesn't have any babies) visited. During his visit there were as you can imagine several feeds to contend with.

Harry is currently going through a "sicky" faze which inevitably means that feeds almost always finish with an encore of white liquid all over mummy.

I suppose I've become somewhat immune to this as I barely flinch when it happens... I simply wipe it off, or out of my hair with a muzzy and carry on whatever it was I was doing.  As this happened over the weekend, my friend looked horrified. When I eventually noticed the horror on his face (I was winding at the time) I questioned him. "You're not going to change immediately?!" he asked. To which I responded... "No? I wasn't actually planning on changing at all?"

Now. I don't know whose right or wrong here. What I do know is the following.

1. Due to the fact that I had a baby just shy of 10 weeks ago, my wardrobe options are fairly limited (put simply, very few things a) fit me b) look good.

2. Baby sick (only a little) comes up at almost every feed. I'm already doing more washing than I can begin to contend with. Surely I can't be expected to add more garments to the mix?!

3. "I" don't think it is gross.... It doesn't look "that" bad and is in my opinion (and that's what really counts) odourless.

Taking into account these three perfectly valid points, no... I don't think it's necessary to change ones clothes more than once a day (unless we are talking about the rare & unexpected protectile vommiting situation, in that case comfort has a part to play as you do get quite wet!)

I do have to make a conscious effort to start looking a little better. 

BH (before Harry) I wasn't exactly a vain person but I did take a lot of pride in my appearance. These days I'd say my efforts are around 5%.... And really there is no excuse, Harry sleeps well... I am rested enough (even though I type this at 4.46am) and I have sufficient time on my hands.

I can imagine that there are a number of women out there who disagree with me and think it unnecessary to spend time beautifying oneself when there is a little bubba to look after.

The thing is. I'm 28, I've not been married a year yet so I do think I have a point and whilst I won't change every time Harry is sick on me going forward... A spritz of perfume and a good shower now and then are most certainly on the agenda going forward!!!

Baby weight

No, this isn't a narcissistic post about how I'm going to try and shake off my baby weight (although I really need to get on with it as our first family holiday is just a couple months away). This post is about the shocking pleasure, satisfaction and sheer joy that comes when ones baby starts packing on those pounds (well grams) in the early days.

When Harry was born, he was pretty ickle. Weighing in at 2380 grams (that's 6.2lbs) he felt ever so fragile & and small. Like when I was pregnant, people felt it necessary to comment on his size, questioning his health which of course was a little upsetting given that he was perfectly healthy and extremely happy.

Thanks to the lovely people at Salter, I'm the happy owner of my very own baby scales (the MiBABY scales to be specific), an ideal asset for any mother as I'm quite sure we are all as obsessive as each other (well I hope so anyway) when it comes to our babies weight & growth!

Whilst it is, I am sure advisable to weigh one's baby on a week by week basis to accurately (and normally) track growth... I of course weigh Harry everyday. In fact, I actually look forward to our nightly weigh in (yes, I know how this sounds)

In the early days, Harry's weight took sometime to "turn" and start increasing as oppose to staying the same or, decreasing (I am fully aware that this is normal but being a new mother  I couldn't help but feel sickened by the thought of it!)

I remember feeling particularly cross after one of the early midwife visits when the unexpecting midwife arrived with a different brand of scales to the midwife who'd visited previously. Anyone who deems themselves particularly knowledgeable on the topic of weighing people (me of course) knows full well that as well as time of day, wees & poos effecting one's weight... the brand of scales make a big difference too. 

I remember suffering a non-baby related sleepless night before the "signing off" health visit... i.e. before I was officially signed off by the health visitor as she was happy with "baby's" weight (just on this, I don't know about you but I found it increasingly annoying how any medical professional referred to my unborn, or refers to my born child as "baby". We knew the sex and he now has a name, why they can't use it, or couldn't refer to him, as "him" I'll never know. 

Anyway, it turned out that my monitoring and obsessing paid off as on the dreaded "signing off day" Harry was (despite poo'ing just before she arrived which almost reduced me to tears) signed off. WOOHOO!!

Since that day, I don't know about you, but I feel ridiculously proud every night pre bath time, and every time I take Harry to the clinic for a weigh-in (I like to double up... yes again, I do know how this sounds!)

Today he weighs 10.5lbs and honestly, I couldn't be prouder of us. By us, I am of course referring to "Team Harry". "Team Harry" is of course made up of three people. The two "feeders" (aka Mummy & Daddy and the very important "eater", our little angel Harry. 

From what my own mother tells me, obsessing over children's food never quite goes away. I noticed the other day a shred of concern in my Mums voice when she asked what I had for dinner that night and I responded with... "a bowl of Crunchie Nut for the third night in a row"

I guess, worrying comes with the unique, wonderful and very special title of Mum, for now I will happily continue to obsess and track my little boys growth.... 

I can't wait for tomorrow's weigh in ;-)

First after first

One of the greatest things about motherhood is the series of firsts we get to experience.

Some firsts are a little scary (the first night at home alone), some firsts are a little shocking (the first explosive poo), some firsts are ridiculously cute (the first time they get the hiccups), some are meaningful (the first time they look into your eyes and you know they know who you are) and some are just perfect... the first smile.

Now, it did take a while to distinguish between an actual smile and wind, but after a while, his eyes did the talking and we knew he was truly smiling at us... especially when his beautiful smile was met with a wee giggle... is there anything more amazing?

It's crazy how quickly time flies. Thinking back to "the early days" (which were only 8 weeks ago), it's unreal to think about the firsts that we not take for granted... the first time he fell asleep in my arms, the first time he cried a tear, the first bath.

Considering I am someone who has always sort of rushed through life, too excited about the next thing to truly appreciate the present... I am sort of surprised at how upset I am getting at how fast my little boy is developing.

He's now got an insatiable appetite, is incredibly long (even more noticeable as he was totally curled up for his first 3 weeks), his so alert and constantly smiles. 

We are a generation of photographs, videos and of course the Internet which provides the means for sharing every aspect of our lives. So much so, that it is almost impossible to live in the moment, I am sure that many people experienced their babies "firsts" through the lens of a camera or the glare of an iPhone. 

It's sad really.

Yes we get to document every second of every day, but I want to see and enjoy all these moments for what they are... before I know it he'll be all grown up and I'll be sat wondering where the time went.

Motherhood/parenthood really is so special. 

Let's not forget that.

Motherhood... the early days

Who would have thought that a new born baby would take up so much of my time?? 8 weeks into motherhood and thus far, I have only found time to write one blog post!! 

First things first, to all new mums out there... well done. This mothering lark is not as easy as it looks... don't get my wrong, it's wonderful, fulfilling, magical and so on but it ain't easy! Every second of my day is consumed with watching, worrying, thinking, timing, planning, playing, loving and generally being there for my little boy.

Being two months in, so clearly a pro (as if!!) I can now reflect on the chaos, panic and sheer amazement that is caring for a newborn baby. 

I read all the books in advance, purchased all the necessaries, spoke to a million people but it is true what they say... nothing can prepare you for motherhood, it is utterly unexplainable and the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.

*quick stop for a nappy change*

Below are a few home truths, the things that would have been useful to know in advance that I've picked up along the way... there will of course be more of this as time goes on and I learn more and more but for now, here are my top 4 learnings...

1. Midwifes.

 No offence to any midwifes out there, you are wonderful BUT talk about mixed advice! I didn't know if I was coming or going after each home visit. One would say one thing, one would say another and I ended up feeling utterly overwhelmed and a little lost. The greatest advice I received was from the hubs who basically told me that they are sharing their "advice"... "advice" not facts. Everyone has an opinion about how to raise babies, the truth of matter is, every baby is different and mothering instinct is worth a million pieces of advice. I have shocked myself at how well I know my little boy, and how strongly I believe that I know what's best for him. Advice is fab, as long as you remember it is advice not fact and it is your choice whether to take on or not. 

*quick stop for a cuddle*

2. Breastfeeding.

First things first. No one mentioned that the day "my milk came in" I'd be an insane emotional wreck. I mean, I was uncontrollable, crying (well weeping) and pretty much inconsolable. This lasted for about two days, and was the last thing I (or the hubs) needed with a 3 day old baby!!! Onto the big breastfeeding debate. I don't care what anyone says, breastfeeding isn't for everyone. My experience was hard, very hard. Harry and me struggled massively. We tried everything, lactation consultants, special chairs, pillows, nipple shields, the full shebang, I was desperate to do it, but it just wasn't working. He wasn't tongue tied, but he was early so purpose this was the reason why he just could not pick up the knack. This was hard, it was disappointing and it was frustrating. Thankfully I had milk, so against all the professionals advice (who said to keep trying) I decided to express and feed my son that way. Yes I had to top up with formula but my boy was finally happy, content, and gaining weight so for me it was the right thing. My belief is, do what is right for you...

Happy mummy = happy baby.

3. Sleep.

What can I say? It's bloody hard functioning on zero sleep. This is a fact. The positive spin is that I've found that we actually don't need THAT much sleep. A couple hours of unbroken sleep did and does me fine. Now, I am not the type who can nap during the day despite trying many many times. Just try not to let it get to you and try not to be like me... utterly neurotic. When Harry did finally get to sleep in the early days I'd stand obsessively over his Moses basket to ensure that he was breathing!!! These days things are much better, Harry is getting bigger so sleeping for longer meaning that now we only have to get up once in the night to feed him.

4. Visitors.

I can't say I wasn't warned about this in advance, because I was. But it's only when you're "in it" that you realise how exhausting & stressful it is having a house full of visitors. Perhaps my C Section meant that I found this particularly taxing? I don't know but it led to periods of tears and exhaustion on my part. I guess the trick is, keep it to one set of visitors per day and in the early days limit who comes round... it is easier said than done though. Of course immediate family takes precedence, but then you have close friends on both sides, cousins, uncles, "good friends" and so on. The one thing we did do which I found helpful was putting the task of negotiating visitors and timings totally on the hubs... he knew who was coming round when which at least took one thing off me. Just remember it's all about the baby and if you're running on zero sleep, trying desperately to breastfeeding whilst negotiating a room full of visitors you're bound to get a little stressed out, so just take it easy!!!

Time for a feed, but plenty more to come in the coming weeks on my 'experience of motherhood, the early days' so please stay tuned!

My Boy

What a difference a few weeks can make. 

The last blog post I wrote was on February 6th, a few days before I discovered that my little boy would be arriving very soon. Taking myself back to that time, I can't quite believe how quickly everything happened. Following an appointment with my midwife, followed by a consultation with my doctor, it was confirmed that due to difficult positioning and the size of the baby, my son would be born February 13th by C Section.

Yes, this wasn't my ideal situation. I'd thought for months about labour and in a way was really looking forward to it. At first hearing the news, I felt robbed of the whole thing and worried about how I'd relate to other mothers who had faced the drama, pain and sheer amazement of natural birth. 

That didn't last very long.

As you all know, I am a planner (well, a control freak) so knowing the date & time of my surgery took away a lot of the stress and anguish associated to childbirth. 

No few days in my life have ever felt quite as surreal as those leading up D Day. I found myself in a daze, cancelling all plans (the hubs and I decided not to tell anyone outside of our folks) as I just couldn't face lying to friends, buying unnecessary items, packing and re-packing my hospital bag (so many of the bits and bobs I'd purchased for labour suddenly became useless) and trying to get my head around the reality of the situation.

The morning of the op arrived, we arrived at hospital at 9.30am as I had to have some blood work done ahead of my surgery. The surgery was to take place at 12.30pm which meant that followed the 5 mins needed for the blood tests, we had a lot of time to kill. The hubs and I were pretty quiet for these few hours. I was riddled with fear, firstly for "Baby J" (weird to call him that now) and secondly for myself as I'd never undergone surgery of any nature before so understandably was a tad dubious.

At 12.20pm, the midwife arrived to take us down to the operating theatre. The hubs (armed with his iPhone & camera) was scrubbed up, I was in a hospital gown, covered by my own dressing gown and was wearing some slippers. 

The next 15 minutes or so were a little intense. people were milling about prepping, I was being injected whilst being "distracted" from the needle by a young nurse who made a rather silly error of telling me that her role was to distract me and the hubs was trying to get the playlist I'd prepared set up and playing.

A few minutes later, all the introductions had taken place, Coldplay, Paradise was playing, I was lying still on the operating table unable to feel my legs (that was a good thing) and the screen was in place. 

This is when the surgeon asked me if I was ready for him to start. "Yes" I uttered. "Ha, I started ages ago" he said. With that, he instructed the hubs to get the camera ready. Next thing I knew I felt a pushing sensation across my chest and seconds later I heard the most beautiful sound there is. 

My little boy's first cry.

And there he was, my angel. I have never ever felt that much emotion in all my life. The screen was lowered and I saw my boy entering the world. John Lennon's "Beautiful Boy" played as I saw my first glimpse. He looked so beautiful, so so beautiful. Tears poured down my face, I turned to look at the hubs who was wiping away the tears. 

Our boy was here, our little boy.

A heartbeat later, he was resting on my chest and I have never felt so content in my entire life.  The next 20 minutes or so disappeared as I sucked in every aspect of my darling boy. 

As I was lifted from the operating table to my bed to be whisked into recovery (with Harry & the hubs), I caught sight of the hubs holding his son for the first time. What a sight to behold. Those memories are so clear and so very special and always will be.

It didn't matter in the slightest that I had a C Section, all that mattered was that he was here and he was healthy.

The last two weeks and 6 days since the birth of my darling son have been the best, most exhausting, most scary and most wonderful days of my life and I will share all my experiences over the coming weeks.

For now, let me introduce my angel.

My Harry.