Wake up to Tilly chatting away, get up.
Change Tilly
Let Kransky out
Put the night nappy on to soak
Let Kransky back in
Take Tilly to the lounge to find the Twirlywoos
Make coffee
Do some jobs with Tilly.
Make and eat breakfast.
Boobs
Change Tilly
Dump night nappy water and fill up with fresh for second soak
Bundle Tilly in the car and drive to Belmont to pick something up
Back home give Tilly a snack
Let Kransky out again
Remember night nappy and drain it
Boobs
Do some jobs with Tilly
Get ready for swimming
Tilly has pooped. Leave poop nappy machine to deal with later
Go to swimming. Tilly cracks in half way through and demands to leave. Change up both and shove a biscuit in her hand.
Get home and make her a sandwich
Boob feed
Shower and wash my hair (the first time this week)
Fish Kransky's ball out of the bath (where he has put it)
Put Tilly down for her nap
Clean kitchen
make coffee and eat nuggets that Jesse has cooked for me.
Take rubbish out, chase Kransky down the street. He has run off barking at next doors dogs.
Drink coffee.
Tilly wakes up.
Client arrives. Hook client up.
Give Tilly some food.
Fish Kranksy's ball from under the TV unit
Boob feed
Do some jobs with Tilly.
Tilly has pooped again, right as client is finishing. Finish up with client.
Change Tilly. She is adamant that she doesn't need changing. Poo gets everywhere. Clean it up.
Take nappy to the laundry and remember previous poo nappy. Rinse both.
Boobs
Afternoon tea.
Do some jobs
Put chicken in the oven for dinner.
Tilly poos again. The same scenario happens. Clean it all up. Take nappy to the laundry to rinse. Tilly tips Kransky's water bowl all over herself. Clean her and the water up.
Fish Kranksy's ball from under the fridge
Take the bins down.
Put The Wiggles on for half and hours peace. It doesn't work.
New client phone call. Try to book them in as Tilly is trying to grab the phone from my hand.
Do some jobs.
Finish dinner and eat it. Tilly wants to wash the dishes. At least I don't have to do that when she is asleep.
Let Kransky out.
Have a bath. Wash hair because we were swimming. Brush teeth. Not that toothbrush, the other one.
Put the nappies on pre wash
Fish Kransky's ball from under the heater
Facetime Grandma.
Put night nappy and PJ's on.
Read 70 million books.
Boob to sleep.
Sneak out and put the nappies on main wash.
Finish cleaning the kitchen
Eat some cheese
Snap together the last nappy load. Get half way through and get summoned to the bedroom. Boob back to sleep.
Sneak out. Notice the water cooler is low as I'm passing through the kitchen, fill it up.
Eat some crisps
Finish the nappies
Let Kransky out.
Reset the lounge room. Find a place to stage the Twirlywoos ready for the morning
Put the nappies away
Pick outfit for tomorrow
Wrap presents
Start studying about 9pm.
Nappies finish washing about 10pm. Hang them out.
More study until I can't keep my eyes open and fall into bed about midnight.
Thursday, August 31, 2017
Saturday, May 27, 2017
What's For Dinner?
Something I've been really struggling with is food. Particularly dinner. I always have grand plans for dinner. I meal plan, I shop, and then the time comes and it all falls apart. Afternoons are hard. Tilly has never been a great day sleeper, and now its extremely rare that she will have an afternoon nap. She has anywhere from 30 - 90 minutes between 11 and 1pm. It's widely unpredictable. and usually by 4pm she is entering maximum grumple.
Things I can just throw in the oven one handed while holding her is about all I can manage. Which is ok, I can easily do roast meat and veg. But, variety is the spice of life. Or so they say.
I get really stressed out about it. Jesse says not to worry, he is happy to fend for himself. But, I feel bad about that. Who wants to get home at 1am after a long, hard hospitality shift and cook dinner? I wouldn't. Plus, it still doesn't fix the 'what are me and Tilly going to eat?' problem.
I've tried batch cooking. It didn't work. Me and Tilly ate them, and Jesse still ended up cooking his own food. I tried home delivery meals. Me and Tilly ate them, and Jesse still cooked his own food. These are expensive ways of living. A disconnect. I feel like we aren't a family unit, and aren't functioning as one when we do this.
Maybe I just have to let the idea of cooking go. Fill the fridge with easy to prepare one handed meals. Our favourite meal as a kid was 'fruit and salad and stuff' which was a plate of cut up fruit and vegetables, some cheese, some dips, some crackers, some cold meats. Maybe I have to be ok with us having roast meats and vegetables a lot.
Some of you are probably going 'ok, so what?' But see, food is a trigger for me. For so long it had so much control over my life. I have recovered from an eating disorder. And I refuse to go back there. I don't want food to cause me stress and anxiety any more. I just want to enjoy it. And at the moment I don't. I feel a constant struggle to make sure that we are eating something other than take away. And, most importantly, I don't want Tilly to ever have a bad relationship with food. I don't want it to control her life like it did mine.
I know that this is just a stage. That eventually it will get easier for me to be able to cook properly, maybe even have a little helper. I have to be ok with it being hard right now. I just have to make sure that our freezer always has bread it in, that we always have a can of baked beans in the cupboard, and that some nights we just have 'fruit and salad and stuff.' And that doesn't make me a bad mother or wife.
Things I can just throw in the oven one handed while holding her is about all I can manage. Which is ok, I can easily do roast meat and veg. But, variety is the spice of life. Or so they say.
I get really stressed out about it. Jesse says not to worry, he is happy to fend for himself. But, I feel bad about that. Who wants to get home at 1am after a long, hard hospitality shift and cook dinner? I wouldn't. Plus, it still doesn't fix the 'what are me and Tilly going to eat?' problem.
I've tried batch cooking. It didn't work. Me and Tilly ate them, and Jesse still ended up cooking his own food. I tried home delivery meals. Me and Tilly ate them, and Jesse still cooked his own food. These are expensive ways of living. A disconnect. I feel like we aren't a family unit, and aren't functioning as one when we do this.
Maybe I just have to let the idea of cooking go. Fill the fridge with easy to prepare one handed meals. Our favourite meal as a kid was 'fruit and salad and stuff' which was a plate of cut up fruit and vegetables, some cheese, some dips, some crackers, some cold meats. Maybe I have to be ok with us having roast meats and vegetables a lot.
Some of you are probably going 'ok, so what?' But see, food is a trigger for me. For so long it had so much control over my life. I have recovered from an eating disorder. And I refuse to go back there. I don't want food to cause me stress and anxiety any more. I just want to enjoy it. And at the moment I don't. I feel a constant struggle to make sure that we are eating something other than take away. And, most importantly, I don't want Tilly to ever have a bad relationship with food. I don't want it to control her life like it did mine.
I know that this is just a stage. That eventually it will get easier for me to be able to cook properly, maybe even have a little helper. I have to be ok with it being hard right now. I just have to make sure that our freezer always has bread it in, that we always have a can of baked beans in the cupboard, and that some nights we just have 'fruit and salad and stuff.' And that doesn't make me a bad mother or wife.
Friday, April 28, 2017
A Year Of Being Mum
I'm lying here, next to a sleeping Matilda. She is breathing softly and rhythmically, and I find myself completely overcome with emotion.
My daughter, the love of my life, is turning one tomorrow. In just a few short hours. I didn't expect these emotions around that. The old adage is true, the days are long, but there years are short. Where did that year go? My baby is morphing into a little girl before my eyes. And I am woefully unprepared.
We are having a birthday party tomorrow, and I've come to realise that it is not only about celebrating Tilly, but it is about celebrating me. I made it an entire year being a Mum. I made it through the 100 days of darkness. Those first 3 or so months where you are chained to one spot with a baby attached to your boob. Where the days just bleed in to each other and you don't know if you are coming or going. Those incredibly lonely, hard days. I survived learning how to breastfeed (and we are still going strong) I survived lip and tongue tie release. I survived getting 6 teeth at once. I survived the falls. I survived the tantrums, the poonamis and the hatred of the car seat. I learnt that I absolutely did not know love until now. I mean, I thought I did, but having Tilly has swelled my heart to three times it's size. I learnt that a part of me had been missing, and I didn't even know it. I have learnt that I have a beautiful, smart, funny, loving daughter. I have learnt that material things don't matter. I have learnt to declutter. Seriously, I have gotten rid of some much stuff. I have learnt I care about waste, and I use as much reusable stuff as I can (cloth breastpads cloth nappies, cloth wipes, cloth menstrual pads, beeswax food wrap, unpaper towels) I have learnt a deeper compassion for people. A deeper appreciation for my parents. I learnt appreciation for every parent. You just don't get it until you live it. I get it now. Parenthood changes you. Motherhood changes you. I am forever changed. In a way I never expected. It's been the hardest year of my life, by far. It has tested me. Pushed me to my limits and beyond. I have cried harder, been sadder, been more lonely, and loved fiercer than I ever have in my life. And I would not change a single thing. The hardest thing for me is what I mentioned in my last post. How to be 'Me' and 'Mum'. How they fit together. And I'm still figuring it out. I'm getting better at it. Sure, I probably haven't showered in 4 days. I probably had chicken nuggets for dinner 2 nights in a row and I almost certainly have breastmilk on my shirt, but I'm kinda proud of that. In a weird way.
So, while Tilly won't remember her first birthday party, I will. Because it's a celebration of me as well. It's an anniversary for me to look back and remember that I made it through that really hard first year too. And that I'll make it through all the other hard times. And the easy ones.
I felt for a while there that I was complaining too much. That I was asking for too much help. Struggling too much. But I wasn't. I kept needing to be reminded that IT IS HARD. That it does take a village. I laid it all out for Jesse, that I was struggling. I needed help. I couldn't spend all day nurturing a tiny mind, feeding, loving, getting frustrated with, bathing, bedding, and everything that comes along in the day of a Mum. I couldn't do all that, AND be a good wife AND study full time AND run a business. I needed help. I needed his help. I know he works long hours. I know he works hard so that I can stay home and be a Mum. But I needed more from him. I felt bad asking for that. I felt like I should be able to do all those things. That it wasn't fair for me to ask. But it was. He didn't mind. He just didn't know I needed more because I didn't tell him. Now I have, he is giving it. So Mums, ask for what you need!! Sometimes, I need an afternoon on my own. I ask for it. My parents come and take her out. It's good for both of us.
We are having a birthday party tomorrow, and I've come to realise that it is not only about celebrating Tilly, but it is about celebrating me. I made it an entire year being a Mum. I made it through the 100 days of darkness. Those first 3 or so months where you are chained to one spot with a baby attached to your boob. Where the days just bleed in to each other and you don't know if you are coming or going. Those incredibly lonely, hard days. I survived learning how to breastfeed (and we are still going strong) I survived lip and tongue tie release. I survived getting 6 teeth at once. I survived the falls. I survived the tantrums, the poonamis and the hatred of the car seat. I learnt that I absolutely did not know love until now. I mean, I thought I did, but having Tilly has swelled my heart to three times it's size. I learnt that a part of me had been missing, and I didn't even know it. I have learnt that I have a beautiful, smart, funny, loving daughter. I have learnt that material things don't matter. I have learnt to declutter. Seriously, I have gotten rid of some much stuff. I have learnt I care about waste, and I use as much reusable stuff as I can (cloth breastpads cloth nappies, cloth wipes, cloth menstrual pads, beeswax food wrap, unpaper towels) I have learnt a deeper compassion for people. A deeper appreciation for my parents. I learnt appreciation for every parent. You just don't get it until you live it. I get it now. Parenthood changes you. Motherhood changes you. I am forever changed. In a way I never expected. It's been the hardest year of my life, by far. It has tested me. Pushed me to my limits and beyond. I have cried harder, been sadder, been more lonely, and loved fiercer than I ever have in my life. And I would not change a single thing. The hardest thing for me is what I mentioned in my last post. How to be 'Me' and 'Mum'. How they fit together. And I'm still figuring it out. I'm getting better at it. Sure, I probably haven't showered in 4 days. I probably had chicken nuggets for dinner 2 nights in a row and I almost certainly have breastmilk on my shirt, but I'm kinda proud of that. In a weird way.
So, while Tilly won't remember her first birthday party, I will. Because it's a celebration of me as well. It's an anniversary for me to look back and remember that I made it through that really hard first year too. And that I'll make it through all the other hard times. And the easy ones.
I felt for a while there that I was complaining too much. That I was asking for too much help. Struggling too much. But I wasn't. I kept needing to be reminded that IT IS HARD. That it does take a village. I laid it all out for Jesse, that I was struggling. I needed help. I couldn't spend all day nurturing a tiny mind, feeding, loving, getting frustrated with, bathing, bedding, and everything that comes along in the day of a Mum. I couldn't do all that, AND be a good wife AND study full time AND run a business. I needed help. I needed his help. I know he works long hours. I know he works hard so that I can stay home and be a Mum. But I needed more from him. I felt bad asking for that. I felt like I should be able to do all those things. That it wasn't fair for me to ask. But it was. He didn't mind. He just didn't know I needed more because I didn't tell him. Now I have, he is giving it. So Mums, ask for what you need!! Sometimes, I need an afternoon on my own. I ask for it. My parents come and take her out. It's good for both of us.
Yeah, I've learnt a lot in my first year of being a Mum.
So here is to every other Mum out there. Thank you. You're doing a great job. You are enough. You love enough. You give enough. You are the entire world to someone. And that's a tough gig. Mum's are badass.
So here is to every other Mum out there. Thank you. You're doing a great job. You are enough. You love enough. You give enough. You are the entire world to someone. And that's a tough gig. Mum's are badass.
Wednesday, March 1, 2017
Being Mum
I read an article earlier today, and she said 'I didn't expect for my heart, who for so long desired to be a mother, to feel constantly divided into two pieces. One piece devoted to my children and the kind of mother I want to be; the other part constantly wanting to find that woman that I was before I became "mom".' this hit me like a punch to the gut. I have been struggling with this a lot this week. Those who know me well know that I am usually a pretty fierce 'give no fucks' kinda girl. Staunchly body positive, proud of being me. This week I have not felt this at all.
I've been hating on my post partum body. My boobs are larger, and more sagging. The shape of my belly is forever changed, and I am not used to its new shape yet. I feel frumpy. I haven't been able to wear 95% of my wardrobe because none of it accommodates breastfeeding. So, I've been living in clothing that isn't me. I don't feel like me. I'm used to feeling fierce and positive because I'm used to looking that way. Knowing that what I had on fit well, looked good, and was ME.
Also, my body isn't my own anymore. I spend at least 22 hours a day sharing it with my offspring. Even now as I write this she is curled into me, her whole tiny little body pressed tightly into mine, sweetly sleeping. I have never craved time on my own more. Which brings up a whole other range of guilty feelings.
So, after having a cry in the (rare) shower, I decided to consult my person. She reminded me that it takes a village. That it's ok to demand help from my village. That it's ok to get exasperated and feeling overwhelmed sometimes. That I am allowed to find this hard. Because babies are hard. They take absolutely everything. And parenting is hard. She reminded me that 'good' parenting isn't made up of one 'good' moment and that one 'bad' moment doesn't make me a 'bad' parent. That experiencing the bad moments will help me learn and grow and be a better mother.
Asking for help is not an admittance of failure. It is a sign of strength. It is strong to recognise you need help and strong to ask for it. It is hard to navigate this new role. I am still finding out how being 'me' and being 'mum' fit together. And thats ok. I've only been 'mum' for 10 months. So while I may feel a bit of 'me' is lost, being 'mum' filled in a space I didn't even know was empty. Swelled my heart to a size I didn't know existed.
Sunday, February 26, 2017
Good Enough
I wrote a post with almost an identical title for The Icing On My Cupcake (you can read it here) but I keep having to remind myself lately.
I have been firmly in the 'Good Enough' camp for a long time. If you do a large variety of things well enough, you'll be fine. I don't strive for perfection. I don't think it exists. I aim to be firmly good enough. A good enough mother, wife, person. Some days you Slay it. Shit gets done. You feel like a badass. FUCK YES, CONSIDER THAT DAY OWNED!
But, other days it's 'WHEN WILL THIS PILE OF POO OF A DAY ENNNDDDDDDD.'
Lately, I've been having the latter. Tilly decided to get 4 teeth at once. And a cold. Kransky has decided to forget he is toilet trained. And my skeleton feels like it's trying to escape my body. I feel like I have been extra complainy. Extra needy. Not enough.
But then I remind myself that I have had a grand total of about 10 hours away from my baby in 10 months. That's not a lot. I'm allowed to feel burnt out by that. I have to remind myself that not only am I raising a child, I'm running a business and studying full time. That actually, what I am doing is exactly enough.
It's ok if it gets to dinner time and all you can manage to do it order a pizza online. It's ok if you zoned out for 10 minutes while your child was happily playing with her toys. It's ok if you just want to run away and enjoy a quite coffee on your own with no one touching you.
So I am writing this to remind myself that I am enough. What I do is enough. I am loved, I am happy, I am well, and that is enough.
Wednesday, January 18, 2017
How Do They Know?!?!
Matilda has this thing, she is super duper sound asleep right up until I make it to the doorway of the bedroom and have my hand on the door handle, preparing to inch it softly closed. Right at this very moment, her eyes fling open as if she was never asleep to begin with. HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME MOTHER??!!??!?!!
HOW DOES SHE KNOW??! Like, I get it. Babies have super smell and super sense and can sense my heartbeat, and smell my smell, and my milk and all that, but, but but, she lets me leave the bed. Creep all the way to the door, in a carefully planned out route so as not to step on any squeaky floorboards, step through the door, place my hand on the handle then, BAM!
My mother tells me I used to do the exact same thing. It appears my mini me, really is a super little version of exactly me. FUCK YEAH!
HOW DOES SHE KNOW??! Like, I get it. Babies have super smell and super sense and can sense my heartbeat, and smell my smell, and my milk and all that, but, but but, she lets me leave the bed. Creep all the way to the door, in a carefully planned out route so as not to step on any squeaky floorboards, step through the door, place my hand on the handle then, BAM!
My mother tells me I used to do the exact same thing. It appears my mini me, really is a super little version of exactly me. FUCK YEAH!
Monday, December 5, 2016
The Worst Mother Alive.
I currently feel like the worst mother that ever lived. The last two days I've injured my daughter.
Yesterday she fell backwards and whacked her head on the laundry floor. I was rinsing a poop nappy and wasn't paying enough attention. I cried when she cried. And just when I had gotten over that guilt today happened.
We went to the river. I made sure I packed her hat and suncream and sunglasses. We got there, I put her hat on and then covered her arms, hands, legs, feet and face with cream. Only it didn't work. She is sunburnt.
I bought this Natural suncream and its clearly shit. Her arms and hands and legs are all burnt. Thankfully her face was covered by her hat. So fuck using natural stuff. Never again. I'm only slathering her in my super strength I'm allergic to the Sun cream. Nothing gets through that.
I currently feel like the worst mother alive. Who let's their baby get burnt? Urgh.
Saturday, November 26, 2016
Always Trust Your Gut
So, I've suspected for a while that Matilda has an upper lip tie. I dismissed the idea that she did, because she was checked by a Midwife in the hospital when we were having latching issues on the second night. But then, I was looking closely at an inforgraphic of what it looks like when babies were latched correctly. Matilda's bottom lip looked perfect, her top lip looked like an accordion. And she always has a sucking callous.
Still, I thought, no, she was checked. Or surely, the two lactation consultants we saw would have picked it up. That's what these people are supposed to do. But, me being me, I researched further.
All her symptoms can be caused by ties. I looked at pictures, comparing them to Tilly. Yep, that certainly looks like a tie. Shit. Think back to the hospital...the midwife (the only midwife I had a problem with during our whole stay) checked her. But, it was in the dark, with a torch, in the middle of the night. Did she check her lip? Or just her tongue? I can't remember. It was our second night, Tilly had only really just started to want to feed. She said there was no tie, so I believed it, why wouldn't I? (I don't blame these people. I've discovered that hardly anyone is trained to pick up ties, or if they are, they are not treated as seriously as they actually are, as in, if the baby is latching, feeding and gaining weight then there is no problem. Which actually isn't true. All ties are serious. All ties need to be released.)
We had lots of latching issues. I was in pain. I would cry out and feed her with tears rolling down my cheeks. We saw a lactation consultant at the hospital. She watched Tilly feed and deduced that I wasn't lining her up to my nipple properly. We practiced. It got better. The pain went away. Tilly started gaining weight (she lost a lot. Well over 10%) When we went back for our follow up they were happy. And that was that.
I knew deep down that something wasn't right. Mothers intuition if you will. I knew she wouldn't just scream for no reason. I knew that she could probably go longer than an hour without feeding. That she shouldn't get so tired when feeding. That, she was above average at birth, but only tracking very average for weight gain now. It all pointed to ties. Then, I voiced my concerns. I don't think anyone really believed that it could be true. But, I had to get her checked. I made an appointment with a dentist who specializes in ties. If nothing comes of it, then great, I was wrong, and she is fine. Phew. But I knew that it wasn't fine.
Just as I suspected. An upper lip tie. A quite severe one. And with lip ties almost always come tongue ties. Tilly has a posterior tongue tie. This means that she can poke her tongue out, but she can't move it effectively, so she actually isn't sucking as effectively as she could. This is why she needs to feed so often, and because of the lip tie, she isn't getting a proper seal, and it taking in lots of air, hence all her wind issues.
Cue the Mum guilt. All her suffering could have been avoided if it had been picked up earlier. I dismissed it, she was checked, they didn't find a tie, she doesn't have a tie.
We got home on Thursday after her appointment, and I put her to sleep and I cried. I cried with guilt and I cried with relief. Hopefully when they are release in 3 weeks she won't be so uncomfortable. We don't have an easy time ahead. There is a lot of body work involved to make sure they don't grow back, also, once they're released lots of muscles that have been compensating will relax. She will effectively need to relearn how to feed. This could mean more pain for me, and frustration for her. But, ultimately, she will be so much better off.
I think people were shocked that I was actually right. That maybe they thought I was just overreacting, but I didn't let that stop me. I followed my instincts. Don't ever dismiss your gut feeling. Your gut is like a second brain, if you feel something in you gut (and you aren't hungry, lol) it's probably wise to follow it.
So now, I'm anxiously awaiting the day of her release. I'm shitting myself, because I'll have to hear her scream. But, it will be over swiftly, and she will be all the better for it, but if I could bare that pain for her, I would do it in a heartbeat. My love for her is fierce.
And on that note, I can see her stirring on the monitor. Her little arms reaching out to find me, and I'm not there. I will go and lie next to her, and she will tuck into me, feeling safe and secure and loved.
Still, I thought, no, she was checked. Or surely, the two lactation consultants we saw would have picked it up. That's what these people are supposed to do. But, me being me, I researched further.
All her symptoms can be caused by ties. I looked at pictures, comparing them to Tilly. Yep, that certainly looks like a tie. Shit. Think back to the hospital...the midwife (the only midwife I had a problem with during our whole stay) checked her. But, it was in the dark, with a torch, in the middle of the night. Did she check her lip? Or just her tongue? I can't remember. It was our second night, Tilly had only really just started to want to feed. She said there was no tie, so I believed it, why wouldn't I? (I don't blame these people. I've discovered that hardly anyone is trained to pick up ties, or if they are, they are not treated as seriously as they actually are, as in, if the baby is latching, feeding and gaining weight then there is no problem. Which actually isn't true. All ties are serious. All ties need to be released.)
We had lots of latching issues. I was in pain. I would cry out and feed her with tears rolling down my cheeks. We saw a lactation consultant at the hospital. She watched Tilly feed and deduced that I wasn't lining her up to my nipple properly. We practiced. It got better. The pain went away. Tilly started gaining weight (she lost a lot. Well over 10%) When we went back for our follow up they were happy. And that was that.
I knew deep down that something wasn't right. Mothers intuition if you will. I knew she wouldn't just scream for no reason. I knew that she could probably go longer than an hour without feeding. That she shouldn't get so tired when feeding. That, she was above average at birth, but only tracking very average for weight gain now. It all pointed to ties. Then, I voiced my concerns. I don't think anyone really believed that it could be true. But, I had to get her checked. I made an appointment with a dentist who specializes in ties. If nothing comes of it, then great, I was wrong, and she is fine. Phew. But I knew that it wasn't fine.
Just as I suspected. An upper lip tie. A quite severe one. And with lip ties almost always come tongue ties. Tilly has a posterior tongue tie. This means that she can poke her tongue out, but she can't move it effectively, so she actually isn't sucking as effectively as she could. This is why she needs to feed so often, and because of the lip tie, she isn't getting a proper seal, and it taking in lots of air, hence all her wind issues.
Cue the Mum guilt. All her suffering could have been avoided if it had been picked up earlier. I dismissed it, she was checked, they didn't find a tie, she doesn't have a tie.
We got home on Thursday after her appointment, and I put her to sleep and I cried. I cried with guilt and I cried with relief. Hopefully when they are release in 3 weeks she won't be so uncomfortable. We don't have an easy time ahead. There is a lot of body work involved to make sure they don't grow back, also, once they're released lots of muscles that have been compensating will relax. She will effectively need to relearn how to feed. This could mean more pain for me, and frustration for her. But, ultimately, she will be so much better off.
I think people were shocked that I was actually right. That maybe they thought I was just overreacting, but I didn't let that stop me. I followed my instincts. Don't ever dismiss your gut feeling. Your gut is like a second brain, if you feel something in you gut (and you aren't hungry, lol) it's probably wise to follow it.
So now, I'm anxiously awaiting the day of her release. I'm shitting myself, because I'll have to hear her scream. But, it will be over swiftly, and she will be all the better for it, but if I could bare that pain for her, I would do it in a heartbeat. My love for her is fierce.
And on that note, I can see her stirring on the monitor. Her little arms reaching out to find me, and I'm not there. I will go and lie next to her, and she will tuck into me, feeling safe and secure and loved.
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Self Care: As Simple As A Shower.
I'm a big advocate for self care. It's important. It's even more important when you've had a baby. All of a sudden your whole life is about someone else. If you're breastfeeding you've usually got your little human attached to you for a good portion of the day. I get super touched out. And because we bed share, some days I don't even get a break then. She has actually changed a lot in the last few weeks in regards to sleep, in that she doesnt want or need to be attached to me all night anymore.
But, back to self care. Mondays have become my self care day. It's not something we really spoke about, it just happened. And it's wonderful.
I strap Tilly to Jesse and they go off for a walk and I get to do whatever I want. The last few weeks it's been study because I have assessments due, but im done with my written, so today I showered.
Showering is something you take for granted before kids. Ask any mum with young kids how often she showers and I bet you she doesn't answer 'everyday' it just doesn't happen. So when it does, it's glorious.
Today I showered. A long hot shower. By myself. With noone watching. Without having to sing nursery rhymes for the duration. Bliss! I washed my hair! I shaved my legs! I exfoliated! Then I blow dried my hair! And I moisturised from top to bottom! I tell you, I feel amazing.
And thats how simple self care can be. As simple as a long hot shower.
So, if any Dads, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends are reading this, go ask a mum if they would like you to take the baby for a walk so they can have a shower and wash their hair. I bet they say yes.
Sunday, October 30, 2016
The Days Are Long But The Years Are Short
That old saying 'The days are long by the years are short' is so fucking true. You just kind of nod your head when you hear it 'yeah, yeah, whatever' but it's true. Oh it's so very true.
Now that the '100 days of darkness' is passed its truer than ever. When you are in that, when you haven't slept more than 2 straight hours in weeks, and your baby is attached to you more hours than she isn't, and day and night mean nothing, you are praying to everything that it will just be over. When you are pacing the hall up and down, up and down, up and down, for hours because your baby won't stop crying, or needs to fart, you are wishing those hours away. But, now that she has hit 6 months, and she is starting to eat proper food, and reaches for things that she wants, or imitates you, or trying so hard to crawl, you are wishing that time would stop, that she wouldn't grow up so quickly, because blink and you will miss it.
It amazes me how fast babies change. I mean, I knew they grew and learnt a lot in their first year, but absolutely nothing prepared me. She does things today that she couldn't do yesterday. And tomorrow she will do even more. Her brain is a little sponge. Absorbing and growing. It's nice and plastic and it's taking everything in. It's wonderful.
I find it hard to believe she is 6 months old. On one hand I can't remember what life was like without her, it's like she has always been here, and on the other hand it feels like no time at all, that it was only yesterday they were laying her on my chest, that she was fast asleep tucked into me while I was confined to my bed for the first night.
And I have changed immeasurably in this six months. I am forever changed. And I don't want it any other way.
Now that the '100 days of darkness' is passed its truer than ever. When you are in that, when you haven't slept more than 2 straight hours in weeks, and your baby is attached to you more hours than she isn't, and day and night mean nothing, you are praying to everything that it will just be over. When you are pacing the hall up and down, up and down, up and down, for hours because your baby won't stop crying, or needs to fart, you are wishing those hours away. But, now that she has hit 6 months, and she is starting to eat proper food, and reaches for things that she wants, or imitates you, or trying so hard to crawl, you are wishing that time would stop, that she wouldn't grow up so quickly, because blink and you will miss it.
It amazes me how fast babies change. I mean, I knew they grew and learnt a lot in their first year, but absolutely nothing prepared me. She does things today that she couldn't do yesterday. And tomorrow she will do even more. Her brain is a little sponge. Absorbing and growing. It's nice and plastic and it's taking everything in. It's wonderful.
I find it hard to believe she is 6 months old. On one hand I can't remember what life was like without her, it's like she has always been here, and on the other hand it feels like no time at all, that it was only yesterday they were laying her on my chest, that she was fast asleep tucked into me while I was confined to my bed for the first night.
And I have changed immeasurably in this six months. I am forever changed. And I don't want it any other way.
Monday, October 24, 2016
I Cry. A Lot.
I came home last night and wrote a whole post about how hard my day had been. I had had a rough week. Matilda is going through some separation anxiety. She is starting to realise that we are separate people, and that I can go away. She is learning about object permanence. Last Monday she started screaming if she couldn't see me, or if I wasn't holding her. She has always been a bit of a Velcro baby, but this was worse. As the week progressed, she got better. By my responding to her, she is learning that I will come back. Today she spent a huge amount of time with her Dad, thank goodness.
It can be really hard when she is like that. It's not just physically exhausting, it's mentally and emotionally exhausting as well. I always have to be 'on'. It got to the point yesterday where if I had had to sing 12345 once I caught a fish alive one more time I was going to scream. I cried a lot when I got home. A lot. I was so tired. She hadn't let me put her in the bath for about 2 weeks, she just screamed. Last night, she cried but she let me put her in the bath and she was enjoying it again, so I let her stay in the bath until the water went cold and I sat there and cried because I was so tired emotionally and physically tired. I let her stay in the bath till the water went cold because I knew when I took her out of the bath and put her on a change table to dress her she would start to cry and I just couldn't handle the crying anymore and when I took her out of the bath and walked into her room she started to cry, because she knew that I was going to put her on her change table. I got her dressed and we went to bed. We have a bit of a bedtime routine, if it's bath night then bath, massage, bit of a play on the bed, book, nurse to sleep. So I took my crying baby and put her on her tummy on the bed and she started laughing and playing. I couldn't believe it. And, I was still crying. Mostly from exhaustion. We read our books and nursed to sleep. She even let me ninja out and eat dinner and watch a whole movie with Jesse. Something that I've only been able to be in recent weeks.
Today was good. Every day is and will be, different. Some days are easier and some days are so fucking hard. Yesterday I felt I was on my own. I felt like not one person understood. That everyone thought I was doing everything wrong, deciding not to go back to work, wearing her in a woven wrap even though it takes a bit of effort to wrap it, because she likes it and it settles her, and that I was being a selfish shit mum (except Jesse) and I was crying about that too. I felt so lonely. I felt like we were a burden. Motherhood is really hard. It's far harder than you ever imagine it's going to be. I cry. A lot.
Today was good. I got to shower and wash my hair. Something I used to take for granted.
And now my little love is fast asleep next to me. One hand reaches out every now and again just to make sure I'm still here. When I finish writing, I'll roll over and she will snuggle herself into me for the night. And there is nowhere else I'd rather be.
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Hey! I Had A Baby! An Honest To Blog
I am hesitant to post this for the risk of offending people. particularly people I love, but I haven't been hiding anything, so if I have offended anyone that wasn't my intention. It's not my business how you parent.This is purely my humble experience. As I say further on, whatever works is the 'right' way. Love is fierce and there is no wrong way to love.
Before you give birth you have all these ideas about how it's going to be. The birth, how you will parent, but, when you give birth and you hold that baby in your arms, this primal mothering urge takes over. I honestly really never had any strong feeling either way about giving birth. If it happened naturally, great! If it happened via c-section, great! But, I didn't really expect to have the week of drama leading up to the birth of my daughter.
She was measuring big. We knew this. I had lots of scans to monitor it. There was a risk of shoulder dystocia. When, at my 38 week scan she was in the 97th percentile, I knew I'd be having a c-section. I saw my absolutely wonderful OB a few days later. He laid it all out for me. What would happen if he let me labour naturally, if he induced me, or c-section. Jesse and I had already discussed it. C-section. We didn't want a traumatic birth experience. We didn't want her head to come out and her shoulders get stuck, resulting in injury to me and her. We would rather the surgery and the scans be completely wrong and she be a tiny wee thing. So, we booked it in. We left his office on Tuesday morning to prepare for our Wednesday afternoon birth. Just after we got home I got a call saying the hospital couldn't fit me on the surgical roster until Friday. Phew, that gives me a few more days to prepare. My anesthetist wanted to meet me, so Wednesday I go in to see him. I have an anomaly in my back that he freaks out about. I can't find any of my x-rays about it. He is concerned about giving me an epidural and wants to put me under general. He sends me for a CT scan the next day at the only place that can fit me in. A hospital 45 minutes away. I've been in tears for a day thinking I'm going to miss the birth of my baby because I'll be under general. Plus, my 8 year old rabbit is dying. On Thursday Mum drives me to my appointment and waits for me. Then drives me home to wait for the vet to euthanize Major Tom. The results come back and everything is ok, my anomaly won't be a problem I can have an epidural. Phew. The vet comes and I say and emotional goodbye to the companion of the last 8 years. My mum takes him to be buried at my folks house. My dad digs him a little grave and marks it with rocks. I am so exhausted by this stage, but also excited because tomorrow I get to meet my little girl. In the end we have an amazing birth experience. I was so relaxed and ready. She still got stuck. Forceps were used. But she was here. All 4.23kg of her. And it was love at first sight. Duh.
I never had any ideals about feeding. Only that I wanted to breastfeed. I had no idea feeding schedules existed, I was just going to feed my baby when she wanted. I know now this is called demand feeding. We had a lot of issues at the start. Matilda lost over 10% of her body weight. There were tears. Lots of tears. from both of us. Two visits to a lactation consultant, and laser therapy of my nipples, and we finally got it. It clicked for both of us, and my bubba started eating. I thought breastfeeding would come easy. After all, it's a natural function. That's what boobs are for, to nourish babies. But no. It's fucking hard. I had no idea what to do, Matilda had no idea what to do. But, I was determined to give it everything. I was not going to give up unless someone said to me 'Your baby will die if you do not give her formula'. So I fed her every 2 hours. And then expressed and topped her up. This meant that almost all of my days and nights were feeding or pumping. But, it was so worth it. And now, I flop one out, and she puts it in her mouth herself. All those issues seems so far away.
I practice what I have come to know is called attachment parenting, but I prefer to think of it as conscious or instinct parenting, as that is exactly what I am doing. I am following my instincts and giving my baby what she needs. What she tells me she needs. It's so primal, this feeling. That I know what she needs and wants.
She slept pretty well in her little bassinet by our bed for a while. Once we got over the feeding issues and she wasn't hungry all the time she would sleep well in there. Fall asleep on my breast and transfer easily. I had no idea that was frowned upon. And why? It seems so natural! I never entertained the idea of putting her to sleep any other way. She started to become harder to settle in there, so I would bring her into our bed, putting her in the crook of my arm so that nothing could happen to her. Curling into a ball around her, terrified I was doing something wrong. She settled instantly. She felt she was safe. A quick check with Jesse and we decided that bed sharing was for us. We both love it, and Matilda sleeps wonderfully. We side lie feed now, so neither of us really wakes. Once we started doing this I realised how natural it felt. This is what I should have been doing. Researching I found that lots of cultures sleep like this. When did we decide not too?This is surely how our ancestors slept. Why should I struggle for hours on end trying to get her to sleep in a crib when all she wants is to be where she feels safe? And leaving her to cry it out is not an option. I understand it works for lots of families, and that's great. I can't do it. It goes against every single instinct I have. She used to cry in the car. The whole journey, inconsolable, gut wrenching crying. And I would cry right along with her. I don't believe crying it out teaches them to self sooth. I believe it teaches them learned helplessness. That, sure, they can cry, but no-one will come for them, so why bother. Crying is how they communicate. If you're thirsty is the night you get up and get a drink, they can't do that. They need their caregiver, so how to get their attention? cry. Anyway, none of this is an issue for us with bed sharing. she doesn't ever cry. She helps herself to boob during the night, and we are all better rested, and less stressed because of it. .
I see a lot of myself in my daughter. I never slept well. I also slept in my parents bed, or on their floor, well into my teen years. I really only started sleeping well after I met Jesse. I also need another warm body to sleep and to feel safe. I believe that we have created a calming environment. Jesse has mentioned his anxiety has been way down since we started sleeping like that. There is something incredibly powerful about sleeping as a family unit. It's a lovely thing, to wake up in the morning to your daughter babbling away to her dad (who is usually fast asleep).
Also, Matilda is a high needs baby. And that's ok, I don't mind. (most of the time) she needs us to feel safe. So we give her what she needs. This won't ruin or spoil her. This will teach her that we will always be her safety. She will get independent, and venture further from us, always knowing that we will be there when she needs us. I have this with my parents, I've realised now more than ever. They are my safe port (obviously Jesse is too, that goes without saying) My parents still respond to my needs and give me the love and support I need now, well into my 30's.
We have recently started Matilda on solids. She was showing all the signs of readiness. I opted for what is called 'Baby-led weaning' which is basically just giving them food off our plates. No purees. Again, this seemed so natural to me. Of course she wants to eat what I'm eating. So, I give her whatever i'm having. And she loves it. She is learning all about textures, about flavours, about how different foods feel in her hand and in her mouth. She has learnt to chew. Just this morning, we were eating yoghurt and she was watching what I was doing with my spoon, and trying to copy me. I follow her lead. When she tells me she has had enough, I don't force her to have more. I overheard a woman at one of our classes telling another mother how she force feeds her baby purees, because 'He just turns his head away'. Seems like a lot of effort to me. Babies are born with the inbuilt ability to know when they are full. They eat when they are hungry and stop when they are full. We are taught not to listen to our hunger cues. We are taught to finish what's on our plates. I had to relearn how to eat when I overcame my eating disorder. I had to relearn my hunger cues. I don't want Matilda to go through what I went through with food. I want her to enjoy food. And have a good relationship with it. And I feel that I am building that by what I am doing.
They don't lie when they say it takes a village to raise a child. I couldn't have made it through those first few weeks without mine. Jesse has taken to fatherhood like a duck to water. He is so wonderful. My parents have been invaluable. They drove me around so much in those first six weeks, dad kept our freezer stocked with food, and Mum, well, mum did everything from walking Kransky to forcing me to nap. My sister who 100% understood everything I was going through. Reassuring me that what I was feeling was normal and even recently reminding me that choosing not to go back to work was actually ok even though it means Jesse and I will struggle financially, that actually it's totally worth that. My best friends for commiserating and making me feel like a queen.
I get that not everyone will agree with the way I parent. Or that lots of people will have had success with the methods that I disagree with, and that's great. If it's worked for you, then great! I am genuinely happy for you. There is no one size fits all model, especially when it comes to babies. At the end of the day you have to do what is right for you. At the end of the day, whatever works is the best thing to do. I am certainly no expert. And I kind of also feel a bit 'what right do I have' about writing and posting this. But, I also feel I might like to have read a post like this when I was pregnant. In fact, I wish I had come across all the things about attachment parenting when I was pregnant. It was eye opening to me. It made me realise I wasn't wrong for wanting to do what my instincts were telling me to do.
Matilda has a quote from the Roald Dahl book 'Matilda' on her wall that reads 'Never do anything by halves if you want to get away with it. Be outrageous. Go the whole hog. Make sure everything you do is so completely crazy it's unbelievable.' My wish for my daughter is that she lives by this. That her life motto is 'Be outrageous.' and I like to think I am helping her on that path.
Before you give birth you have all these ideas about how it's going to be. The birth, how you will parent, but, when you give birth and you hold that baby in your arms, this primal mothering urge takes over. I honestly really never had any strong feeling either way about giving birth. If it happened naturally, great! If it happened via c-section, great! But, I didn't really expect to have the week of drama leading up to the birth of my daughter.
She was measuring big. We knew this. I had lots of scans to monitor it. There was a risk of shoulder dystocia. When, at my 38 week scan she was in the 97th percentile, I knew I'd be having a c-section. I saw my absolutely wonderful OB a few days later. He laid it all out for me. What would happen if he let me labour naturally, if he induced me, or c-section. Jesse and I had already discussed it. C-section. We didn't want a traumatic birth experience. We didn't want her head to come out and her shoulders get stuck, resulting in injury to me and her. We would rather the surgery and the scans be completely wrong and she be a tiny wee thing. So, we booked it in. We left his office on Tuesday morning to prepare for our Wednesday afternoon birth. Just after we got home I got a call saying the hospital couldn't fit me on the surgical roster until Friday. Phew, that gives me a few more days to prepare. My anesthetist wanted to meet me, so Wednesday I go in to see him. I have an anomaly in my back that he freaks out about. I can't find any of my x-rays about it. He is concerned about giving me an epidural and wants to put me under general. He sends me for a CT scan the next day at the only place that can fit me in. A hospital 45 minutes away. I've been in tears for a day thinking I'm going to miss the birth of my baby because I'll be under general. Plus, my 8 year old rabbit is dying. On Thursday Mum drives me to my appointment and waits for me. Then drives me home to wait for the vet to euthanize Major Tom. The results come back and everything is ok, my anomaly won't be a problem I can have an epidural. Phew. The vet comes and I say and emotional goodbye to the companion of the last 8 years. My mum takes him to be buried at my folks house. My dad digs him a little grave and marks it with rocks. I am so exhausted by this stage, but also excited because tomorrow I get to meet my little girl. In the end we have an amazing birth experience. I was so relaxed and ready. She still got stuck. Forceps were used. But she was here. All 4.23kg of her. And it was love at first sight. Duh.
I never had any ideals about feeding. Only that I wanted to breastfeed. I had no idea feeding schedules existed, I was just going to feed my baby when she wanted. I know now this is called demand feeding. We had a lot of issues at the start. Matilda lost over 10% of her body weight. There were tears. Lots of tears. from both of us. Two visits to a lactation consultant, and laser therapy of my nipples, and we finally got it. It clicked for both of us, and my bubba started eating. I thought breastfeeding would come easy. After all, it's a natural function. That's what boobs are for, to nourish babies. But no. It's fucking hard. I had no idea what to do, Matilda had no idea what to do. But, I was determined to give it everything. I was not going to give up unless someone said to me 'Your baby will die if you do not give her formula'. So I fed her every 2 hours. And then expressed and topped her up. This meant that almost all of my days and nights were feeding or pumping. But, it was so worth it. And now, I flop one out, and she puts it in her mouth herself. All those issues seems so far away.
I practice what I have come to know is called attachment parenting, but I prefer to think of it as conscious or instinct parenting, as that is exactly what I am doing. I am following my instincts and giving my baby what she needs. What she tells me she needs. It's so primal, this feeling. That I know what she needs and wants.
She slept pretty well in her little bassinet by our bed for a while. Once we got over the feeding issues and she wasn't hungry all the time she would sleep well in there. Fall asleep on my breast and transfer easily. I had no idea that was frowned upon. And why? It seems so natural! I never entertained the idea of putting her to sleep any other way. She started to become harder to settle in there, so I would bring her into our bed, putting her in the crook of my arm so that nothing could happen to her. Curling into a ball around her, terrified I was doing something wrong. She settled instantly. She felt she was safe. A quick check with Jesse and we decided that bed sharing was for us. We both love it, and Matilda sleeps wonderfully. We side lie feed now, so neither of us really wakes. Once we started doing this I realised how natural it felt. This is what I should have been doing. Researching I found that lots of cultures sleep like this. When did we decide not too?This is surely how our ancestors slept. Why should I struggle for hours on end trying to get her to sleep in a crib when all she wants is to be where she feels safe? And leaving her to cry it out is not an option. I understand it works for lots of families, and that's great. I can't do it. It goes against every single instinct I have. She used to cry in the car. The whole journey, inconsolable, gut wrenching crying. And I would cry right along with her. I don't believe crying it out teaches them to self sooth. I believe it teaches them learned helplessness. That, sure, they can cry, but no-one will come for them, so why bother. Crying is how they communicate. If you're thirsty is the night you get up and get a drink, they can't do that. They need their caregiver, so how to get their attention? cry. Anyway, none of this is an issue for us with bed sharing. she doesn't ever cry. She helps herself to boob during the night, and we are all better rested, and less stressed because of it. .
I see a lot of myself in my daughter. I never slept well. I also slept in my parents bed, or on their floor, well into my teen years. I really only started sleeping well after I met Jesse. I also need another warm body to sleep and to feel safe. I believe that we have created a calming environment. Jesse has mentioned his anxiety has been way down since we started sleeping like that. There is something incredibly powerful about sleeping as a family unit. It's a lovely thing, to wake up in the morning to your daughter babbling away to her dad (who is usually fast asleep).
Also, Matilda is a high needs baby. And that's ok, I don't mind. (most of the time) she needs us to feel safe. So we give her what she needs. This won't ruin or spoil her. This will teach her that we will always be her safety. She will get independent, and venture further from us, always knowing that we will be there when she needs us. I have this with my parents, I've realised now more than ever. They are my safe port (obviously Jesse is too, that goes without saying) My parents still respond to my needs and give me the love and support I need now, well into my 30's.
We have recently started Matilda on solids. She was showing all the signs of readiness. I opted for what is called 'Baby-led weaning' which is basically just giving them food off our plates. No purees. Again, this seemed so natural to me. Of course she wants to eat what I'm eating. So, I give her whatever i'm having. And she loves it. She is learning all about textures, about flavours, about how different foods feel in her hand and in her mouth. She has learnt to chew. Just this morning, we were eating yoghurt and she was watching what I was doing with my spoon, and trying to copy me. I follow her lead. When she tells me she has had enough, I don't force her to have more. I overheard a woman at one of our classes telling another mother how she force feeds her baby purees, because 'He just turns his head away'. Seems like a lot of effort to me. Babies are born with the inbuilt ability to know when they are full. They eat when they are hungry and stop when they are full. We are taught not to listen to our hunger cues. We are taught to finish what's on our plates. I had to relearn how to eat when I overcame my eating disorder. I had to relearn my hunger cues. I don't want Matilda to go through what I went through with food. I want her to enjoy food. And have a good relationship with it. And I feel that I am building that by what I am doing.
They don't lie when they say it takes a village to raise a child. I couldn't have made it through those first few weeks without mine. Jesse has taken to fatherhood like a duck to water. He is so wonderful. My parents have been invaluable. They drove me around so much in those first six weeks, dad kept our freezer stocked with food, and Mum, well, mum did everything from walking Kransky to forcing me to nap. My sister who 100% understood everything I was going through. Reassuring me that what I was feeling was normal and even recently reminding me that choosing not to go back to work was actually ok even though it means Jesse and I will struggle financially, that actually it's totally worth that. My best friends for commiserating and making me feel like a queen.
I get that not everyone will agree with the way I parent. Or that lots of people will have had success with the methods that I disagree with, and that's great. If it's worked for you, then great! I am genuinely happy for you. There is no one size fits all model, especially when it comes to babies. At the end of the day you have to do what is right for you. At the end of the day, whatever works is the best thing to do. I am certainly no expert. And I kind of also feel a bit 'what right do I have' about writing and posting this. But, I also feel I might like to have read a post like this when I was pregnant. In fact, I wish I had come across all the things about attachment parenting when I was pregnant. It was eye opening to me. It made me realise I wasn't wrong for wanting to do what my instincts were telling me to do.
Matilda has a quote from the Roald Dahl book 'Matilda' on her wall that reads 'Never do anything by halves if you want to get away with it. Be outrageous. Go the whole hog. Make sure everything you do is so completely crazy it's unbelievable.' My wish for my daughter is that she lives by this. That her life motto is 'Be outrageous.' and I like to think I am helping her on that path.
Welcome!
Hi There!
You may remember me from such blogs as The Icing On My Cupcake. Well, I've changed and grown a lot. I even had a baby! So I thought a shiny fresh new blog was in order. I'll be migrating some of my favourite posts from TIOMC over here in the coming weeks, and making this one look all nice and pretty, but I am also very impatient and wanted to get this one going! So here it is. Enjoy!
You may remember me from such blogs as The Icing On My Cupcake. Well, I've changed and grown a lot. I even had a baby! So I thought a shiny fresh new blog was in order. I'll be migrating some of my favourite posts from TIOMC over here in the coming weeks, and making this one look all nice and pretty, but I am also very impatient and wanted to get this one going! So here it is. Enjoy!
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