Breastfeeding Leper

I had this grand idea that for national breastfeeding awareness week (if it still exists without the funding), I would publish a blog post every day on the subject. Then I remembered I barely find time to post once a month at the moment so I forgot the idea.

However, I thought I'd try for at least one post. But there is so much to discuss about breastfeeding as it's such an emotive subject, so I thought I'd take a different angle, to show that we breastfeeders sometimes feel excluded and despised too.

Now don't get me wrong, I am a confident breastfeeder. I don't feel the need to hide away and will happily breastfeed in a coffee shop, restaurant, well, wherever I need to really. But there have been times when I haven't found it so easy.

For example, when Felix was still tiny and I was trying to find my feet, getting used to being at home and having to find friends to spend my days with (either that or never speak to another adult ever again!), I went along to a local baby group. At first the breast/bottle divide was about 50-50. After the first couple of sessions though, I don't remember seeing anyone else breastfeeding. The plastic chairs (think school hall) were set out in a circle in the middle of the room. So there was no opportunity for discretion, and there was no way of making yourself comfortable. Nobody spoke to me whilst I was feeding either. I felt ostracised from the group, like an intruder with a disgusting habit.

I believe I gave the group one more chance after this. Nothing any worse happened but I felt no real desire to attend again. I went on a mission to find other breastfeeding mums to befriend and thankfully my antenatal class members came good (they weren't an obvious first choice as we were sent to an NCT group the other side of the city and we only made it to one class before Mr Premature decided to enter the world).

My point is, that it's often the formula-feeders that feel the breastfeeders look down on them, pity them or criticise them. It happens to breastfeeders too y'know. Nicknames like the Breastapo come from our need to display confidence in our decision to breastfeed. It's a defence mechanism to any negativity we may feel.

I think our own inner feelings of guilt or insecurity can make us imagine other people's prejudice in these situations. I know formula feeders who never even considered breastfeeding and are more than confident in their decision. They don't feel belittled by me and I don't feel embarrassed about breastfeeding in their presence.

How about you? Breastfeeders: did you ever feel excluded by the bottle-feeders? Formula mums: have you ever felt pity for or judgemental about another mums decision to breastfeed?

Thick and Creamy

Ladies and Gentlemen, please be advised that the nappy consistency has changed. I repeat, the nappy consistency has changed.

Oh my. In fact, that particular nappy was much like the parsnip and apple that I have just pureed to a smooth mush.

The change in nappy contents, was one of many reasons that I was not looking forward to beginning weaning. Alas, it is not considered polite for a child to go on being exclusively breastfed into adulthood, nor is it healthy for the child. So I suppose weaning must commence.

And so it did, last week. Along with the increase in laundry, there was a noticeable increase in my stress levels too. I had forgotten quite how little I had enjoyed weaning my eldest. Could this be to blame for his picky eating now he is nearly 3?

I will not let this happen again. Just in case it was to blame. And so, when I sit down to introduce the baby's palate to a world of new flavours, I will take a deep breath, I will relax my shoulders and I will NOT let the mess annoy me. I will put out of mind that this will be his third outfit change of the day and I will allow my own hands and clothes to be wiped, spat and dribbled on.

I will not get cross when his hands or his bib find their way into his mouth instead of the spoon and I will smile and sing merrily (not at all through gritted teeth) to regain his attention when he non-chalantly gazes out of the window or arches his back in frustration. When a fully loaded spoon is knocked flying from my hand, I shall laugh in the face of the cleaning cloth. Food will be fun. And mummy will be calm.

Spoons at the ready. Let the culinary battle commence.

I wish I was pregnant

We are finally beginning to make some progress with the whole sleep thing. I feel human enough to do something with my time other than mope about, even if my past two attempts at an early night (as sleeping from 8pm-1am would mean a WHOLE FIVE HOURS sleep in one go!!!) haven't exactly resulted in more sleep. Stupid brain won't switch off.

For those others of you, desperately searching for the answer to that baby-nighttime-sleep problem, it's simple. Go on a holiday in the UK that involves a loooong drive. Baby sleeps in car, baby has proper daytime sleep, ergo baby sleeps at night. Oh, and a big cot is helpful for a baby who can roll so they can sleep in whatEVER position they choose.

In the meantime, I got to thinking about how NOT being pregnant anymore really sucks. Don't get me wrong, I do NOT want another baby (not right now anyway thanks), but there are elements of pregnancy that make life sooo much easier...

Like my hair not falling out - I swear, I emptied a FULL fistful of hair into the bin after my shower this morning. It was disgusting. And think how much I must have missed in the past month which is now currently residing in the plughole, soon to completely block up the bath!

And what's with my hair getting all greasy? During pregnancy I could easily skip the shampoo for one day. Now, it's like I have a big sign on my forehead and a siren screeching "not washed, not washed".

Breastfeeding is commonly known as ample excuse to continue "eating for two" long after the birth of your child... but I have to say I've noticed the weight gain and have concluded that it is time to stop that fourth meal of the day when Felix has his tea. Eating his leftovers is ok though, right?

Not carrying round a big old bump means you lose a lot of people's sympathy too. No-one offers to carry things anymore or make me drinks. I'm not expected to need to sleep at any given opportunity or need help around the house. But the truth is, your body doesn't return to normal (what is normal?) that quickly, and whether it's first, second or (I'm sure) subsequent child, it's a shock to the system that takes more than a couple of months to adjust to. It's a whole new life again.

And the best thing about being pregnant... no periods OR contraception. I'm very happy to still be period-free (oh breastfeeding - you ARE my friend), but did not enjoy having a doctor messing around inside me again, even if it does mean I can now forget about contraception for five years. Next time, it's the male pill. Let's see how he likes it.

I need sleeeeep...

We all know that babies wake up in the night and mothers get little sleep in the early days. What we do not know, is how long this will go on for before the baby starts managing longer breaks between feeds.

I had never contemplated that at 4 months old, Elliot would still be awake every 4 hours throughout the night given that his brother was sleeping from 7pm until at least 5am if not later by the same age.

So here, is a quick top 5 reasons why it is obvious that I am sleep deprived.

1. I keep forgetting to do up my flies. Luckily, we spend much of our time at home so no-one except me notices.

2. We went on a rare night out on Saturday. After one glass of bubbly, I was completely incoherent. Mostly as a result of not being able to remember any marginally intelligent vocabulary. This happens a lot. Without the alcohol.

3. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, gets done. Paul gets home from work to find wet washing has been sitting in the machine all day, breakfast, lunch and Felix's dinner things are strewn across the kitchen. And as for work/health/social arrangements, the list of pending jobs is just huge.

4. My food intake has increased, even beyond pregnancy levels! I've noticed an increase in tummy size, not just left over jelly belly flab, but a firmer, food related roundness. But when I tried to cut down on my snacking last week, I had an obvious energy lull which was only remedied by the intake of a hot cross bun.

5. I can no longer remember if the previous night was a good or bad one. I start the conversation with "For example, last night, he fed at..." and then I tail off in a mumble along the lines of "I can't even bloody remember what happened at 4am, but when I woke up, he was in bed with me".

One day, yes, one day, I shall get some sleep and then my life will start to become normal again. Whatever normal is with two children.

A Biting Chance

This afternoon, Elliot and I (Felix was at nursery sticking tissue paper to a tree) went to visit a heavily pregnant friend. She's pregnant with her first child and is due to give birth next week. AND she lives within walking distance of our house - VERY exciting.

Whilst we were there, Elliot had a feed. Within this annoyingly short (5 minutes) breastfeed, he managed to suck his way off my nipple (stretching it as far away from my breast as possible) twice and bite me once. What an excellent advertisement we made for breastfeeding.

Thankfully, she knows my first child was better behaved.

The Gallery: Expressions

My poor baby must be feeling severely unloved due to the lack of photographs of him so far in comparison to his big brother by the time he was the baby's age! I suppose that happens with many second children. Particularly if the eldest is still young enough that he would destroy the camera if it were left somewhere easily accessible to the parents.

With that in mind, and having noticed on Twitter that it is Gallery day (why can I never remember - oh, maybe that'll be the lack of sleep), I thought I should get my camera out today. So I packed Felix off to his bedroom for some "quiet time", which usually doesn't involve very much quiet time and certainly doesn't involve any sleep, whilst Elliot did his best modelling work.

It may seem a boringly obvious response to this week's theme of Expressions, but forgive me. I have a new baby (alright, nearly 3 months. He still feels new to me) and I haven't yet captured a good smile even though he started smiling at the tender age of 5 weeks.

Indulge me. Here is my baby boy, Elliot, giving me his best cheesy grin. And I didn't have to sing to obtain it either!

Go check out some more amazing expressions in The Gallery at Sticky Fingers.

Cute as a Button

I'm finally getting involved in The Gallery again (hopefully I'll become a regular now). It's run by Tara Cain at Sticky Fingers where each week Tara provides a prompt and we all find a suitable photograph to represent that prompt. This week is Body Parts. And there's some very brave photos out there so go have a look at them all.

For me, the prompt screamed BABY FEET. I have a newborn, it's a classic newborn shot, I'm a photographer. Why not? But I didn't get round to doing it before The Gallery day and on looking at a few of the other posts this morning, someone else had already done it. And although that shouldn't have stopped me, it did. Perhaps because their photo was so beautiful!!

So I thought about Elliot's body and about some of my other favourite bits or something a bit special. And I remembered how when his tummy button first healed, it looked like a letter E. As if fate had made us chose the right name for him. It's slightly less E like now as the middle line has disappeared, but there's something amazing about a baby's tummy button anyway - it was, after all, his life line for 9 months. And how quickly it heals leaving only the smallest trace that we were once attached. Look how well healed it is after only 5 weeks.

My labour of love

Having spent my entire labour on twitter, writing about each stage, it does seem a little ironic that it’s taken me over a month to get my birth story up on my blog.

Well, it started with my waters breaking. I was reading Felix his bedtime story when I felt a pop. Nothing else happened, not even when I stood up. I sort of expected a gush.

Eventually I felt some waters trickling out but not very much. Whilst mildly freaking out about what was to come, I ate my dinner and called my mum over to babysit. Then, I rang the hospital only to find out that they were closed to admissions and I needed to contact the other local hospital. Eek!

So we stayed at home and watched a bit of Michael McIntyre (laughing releases endorphins which lessens the pain, apparently) and timed contractions. Eventually we decided we should try to sleep, but mum was in our bed, so Paul got out the sofa bed and some blankets and dozed off whilst I closed my eyes. Contractions were around every 10 minutes so I didn’t get to sleep. But the rest was nice and twitter kept me company!

As contractions became more like 5 minutes apart, I rang the hospital again to find they had re-opened - wahoo! Grabbed another bite to eat and then we headed off, in the snow. I had a mild panic as the car wouldn’t reverse of our sloped driveway, but we got there in the end.

Of course, as soon as we arrived at hospital (around 3am), the contractions slowed down and became less regular again. And on examining me, the doctor couldn’t even confirm that my waters had broken. So at 6am I got transferred to a ward and Paul went home for a sleep. I would have loved to have got some sleep myself, but what with a contraction creeping up on me every half hour at the LONGest and the sound of newborn babies crying in the room, there was no chance. I may have dozed, but that was it.

At 11am, Paul, Felix and my mum arrived to visit. I was already missing Felix despite having put him to bed just the night before. I blame it on the emotions! He was a bit restless so mum took him away again and Paul stayed hoping we’d give birth soon. We started trying to speed things up by walking round and round the ward and even sideways up and down the stairs.

We got back to regular 5 minute contractions, although there was still the occasional longer gap. But I was having to concentrate on breathing through the pain. I enquired at what point I would go back to the delivery suite and the midwife explained that I’d be examined as I'd need to be in established labour (3cm dilated) before they could send me back. She also advised me that there was no gas and air until I got back to delivery.

Now I understand that they must often have people demanding pain relief before they really need it. But not me. By the time I was asking her the above questions, I really needed it already. I might have looked very calm, in control and without pain to her, but I knew I was getting there.

Anyway, I did as I was told, took my painkillers and got in the bath. I hated the bath. Maybe because of the stupid angle I had to sit at, but the contractions hurt way more and I got out after only two contractions.

On returning to the midwife (around 5.45pm) to ask for pain relief she said she would get me monitored before an examination - I was a bit narked by this as I KNEW I needed pain relief and just wanted to get back to the delivery suite as soon as possible.

I probably made them think even more, that I wasn’t too close, when I went and got a plate full of food. Well, I didn’t want to miss dinner time (seriously, I love the NHS food THAT much). I managed to eat most of my carb fest (pasta, creamed potatoes AND chips all on one plate) before the midwife arrived to monitor me. I did have to shout at Paul to take the plate off me a few times and hit GO on the contraction timer for me. ("Tray, ‘start’, agh, ohh, oooh, owww, etc.")

The midwife came and strapped me up. She witnessed a couple of these contractions and, I think, began to realise that I was further along than they’d assumed. Personally I felt sorry for the new mums in the same room, having to listen to me!

The baby’s heartbeat was fine so she got on with the internal exam but struggled to find my cervix. In the meantime I was contracting away, writhing around on the bed and sobbing. She finally found and pulled forward my cervix (I guess that was the bit that really hurt then?!) and told me, not only that my amniotic sac was bulging (i.e. waters had not broken) but also that I was 6cm dilated.

Hello. Established labour. WHERE’s the pain relief then?

Unfortunately, the baby didn't like what she'd done and his heart rate dropped. Significantly.

"I don't want you to panic but I'm going to pull the emergency button and get you straight onto delivery".

Panic? Me? No chance. I'm in immense pain and you're going to get me to the pain relief quickly. I LOVE YOU.

I remember worrying a bit that Paul would panic though. Anyway. Suddenly there were people everywhere wheeling me and my bed through the doors and into the lift. This is when I wrote my last tweet, at 6.20pm and handed my phone over to Paul to keep safe.

Back on delivery the contractions were coming back to back and I just managed to squeeze out the words "I want to push".

My delivery midwife told me to go with it if I wanted to push. But she also wanted me to move onto another bed which was near impossible at the time. Every time I thought a contraction was easing off and I tried to move another one came along and I was crippled over, head hanging off the side of my bed just sucking on the gas tube.

On top of this she also wanted to attach a probe to the baby’s head to monitor his heartbeat. I guess I was moving too much for the external fetal monitor to work - whoops! But likewise, as there was no let up between contractions, there was no way she was going to get to do it.

I have no idea where Paul was at this point, bless him, but he told me later he’d been really worried by my lack of cooperation!

Eventually I managed to crawl across to the bed and get almost into my preferred position. I had been half heartedly pushing all this time, partly because in the back of my mind, I was only 6cm dilated and didn’t want to do myself any damage, but mainly because I was in so much pain that I couldn’t control myself enough to push.

Finally in a decent position, sucking on the gas and air like my life depended on it, I began to regain control of my body and started to push properly.

Wow, did it feel different to my first labour.

Ok, so they think maybe my hind waters had broken, meaning the TOP of the bag broke and any water behind his bottom may have trickled out. But the fluid around his body and in front of his head was still there which made it feel like I was pushing out a bulging balloon of water. It seemed to be much harder work than my first labour where my waters had properly broken and I was pushing out a head instead.

All of a sudden they told me he was crowning. One more push and Elliot’s head was out. I don't think I believed the midwives so I put a hand down to feel him!! Clearly the gas and air had done something odd to me!

The next push seemed much more effort than I remember from my first labour too, but out he popped and, as requested, they put him straight onto my chest. Totally different to Felix being whisked away for prematurity health checks. I just held on tight to Elliot whilst trying to calm down and regain control over my breathing.

Elliot was born at 7pm, weighing 7lb 1oz. I think it’s quite normal to feel totally elated and proud of yourself after pushing out a little baby, but I have to say, holding him immediately afterwards whilst recovering from the shock, makes it the MOST special feeling in the world.

Post-natal Treats

A little while ago I blogged about the things I was looking forward to post-birth. I forgot a couple of minor points.

Number 5 on the list, I was sceptical about. I mentioned that I was looking forward to a good night's sleep... but of course it wasn't likely to happen with a newborn baby in the room. Thankfully, I had at least one good night's sleep in the week leading up to the birth... so I guess that's going to have to last me for a while.

What I had specifically forgotten is that there's a tendency to sleep a little lighter with a baby in the room. I'm always conscious of keeping one ear on alert. And as this baby has been particularly keen on sleeping in mummy's arms, there have been a few nights of having to remain conscious enough not to move in my sleep. Which resulted in some early day serious sleep deprivation.

The other, arguably worse, point that I was completely foolish to forget was number 6. I was looking forward to cuddling the toddler without worrying about him kicking me in the bump. Well, as worrying as that was, it wasn't anywhere near as painful as him giving me a good squeeze around the chest now. My poor swollen bosom.

It's not just at cuddle time that I have to fear for my mammories, he likes to kiss his little brother often and has a tendency to 'lean' on mummy in order to reach. OUCH!

As for the rest of the list though, I can happily say I have completed every item on it and most enjoyed the boiled egg, brie and grape baguette and the laying flat on my back. It certainly helps with the chronic shoulder ache!

Baby Blues

So many posts to write and so little time...

I had the baby. Did you notice? I was on twitter (@InceyWinceyMum) from waters breaking on Friday evening until I was rushed onto the labour ward at 6.15pm on Saturday 4th December. Elliot was born just 45 minutes later and InceyDaddy had taken a photo and posted it for me 5 minutes later.

But we'll cover the birth story later. If I don't talk about the here and now, NOW, I'll miss out on it entirely. And there is SO much going on here and now as anyone who's ever been a new parent will understand.

Well the 4th day baby blues really kicked in yesterday. I think I got them on day 3 last time. But I was also forced to plug myself into a breast pump 8 times a day from the day after Felix was born, so maybe my milk came in sooner.

I could tell my milk was beginning to come in on Tuesday evening and on Wednesday morning, after another night of very little sleep, I just lay in bed crying. I wanted to stay there all day, try to sleep and cry some more. I was getting ready to give up. I just needed to sleep and then I knew everything would be better, but when breastfeeding, you can't just walk away from the baby for a few hours. Although I was beginning to consider the alternatives so that I could have those precious few hours to recuperate.

You see, the last time I slept properly was a week ago. Then, I spent a night in labour, a night on a labour ward with a new baby who slept, but other people's babies keeping me awake, then it was Elliot's turn to keep me up. And as he doesn't seem to be able to settle in his own bed (only at night, he's fine in the day), he's been in bed with me every night since. You just don't sleep the same when you have the responsibility of keeping a tiny baby safe in your arms. Deep sleep just doesn't happen.

He was still in bed with me last night, but I did finally sleep a little better. Maybe the tiredness got the better of me.

Therefore, even if the 'baby blues' wasn't a given part of having a new baby, I think I'd have been feeling pretty low yesterday.

On top of the lack of sleep, I also have this horrendous pain in my shoulder. I completely forgot about this for a few days (probably due to the quantity of pain relief I was taking) but my shoulder hurt before I went into labour. No idea what I might have done to it but it is, of course, getting much worse now I'm carrying a baby around and tensing up all the time! Even yawning makes it hurt.

And I miss my toddler. Now I'm back home and I'm with him, I still miss him. I miss him being the centre of my world. He seems to have reciprocated my lack of attention which means it's even more difficult for me to spend time with him when I'm available. At least he seems to adore his little brother.

This morning's little outburst of tears was the polar opposite... I lay in bed with my new baby in my arms and my toddler cuddled in next to me and I started blubbing because I'm so fortunate. I have two amazing little boys who I love very much.

I guess I shall just succumb to the emotional roller coaster of the next few days and look forward to everything settling down soon.