Showing posts with label 2017. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2017. Show all posts

Thursday 2 November 2017

The far side of the postpartum experience: mourning, loss and recovery

It’s a really weird experience, going through pregnancy and having a baby. You foster that life that grows inside you and then it emerges into the world and continues growing. But for a long time it’s not independent of you – it relies on you for food, to keep it warm, to lull it off to the sleepy-world. Your baby is an extension of you, and you are an extension of your baby. And then, it begins to shift. Baby can move, baby begins to realise they are independent of you. Then baby begins to eat food. Real, solid, human food that anyone can feed her. She relishes this new set of experiences. Baby can crawl. Baby is growing up.

Somewhere along the way this story stops being about you as a pregnant body, you as a new mother. The bleeding stops, your stomach slowly and steadily decreases in size with each passing week. You can walk farther than a mile without needing a rest, you get to sleep. You aren’t craving sugar and carbohydrate all the time, your body has replenished the iron and zinc that it donated to the placenta. There are newer babies that replace your baby as the ‘new thing’ and that is beautiful too.

Somewhere along the way this story starts being about you again. You, and this other little human, this baby that is now independent of you, that can be cared for by a loving and well-meaning relative or a minder. She needs you, of course, but it’s not in that primal, biological ‘basic needs’ sort of way, more of an emotional support and a care-giver like anyone else could be.

And then, what are you? It’s been eight months of breastfeeding and naps-in-arms. On the outside, little has changed. It’s still breastfeeding and naps-in-arms. But a subtle shift has been tip-tip-tipping away the last few weeks. Fewer feeds, sometimes napping in the bed. More solid food. Trying to stand. The change now is taking place in your own body. A niggling change, as your body shifts once again.

Bodies are funny. Nothing happens suddenly, it’s all subtle thief in the night type stuff. You feel a little cramp here and there and feel the hormonal shift that you can’t really explain to anyone else. Your body is changing, again. You’re beginning to phase out of being a postpartum body, and back to being a regular (what does that even mean?) woman who has the capacity and the potential to do it all over again.

Matter has this impatient, eternal desire to perpetuate its own existence and to reproduce itself. It just wants to keep on keeping on. And you realise that your body is just a part of that bigger picture. It’s a funny thing, adjusting to all these changing roles. It’s a funny, emotional time. A time for grieving a loss, anticipating the return of an old friend, expectation and waiting. It’s a time for crying and not being able to say why. Of incomprehensible rage and a void of sadness welling up. A huge part of being a breathing, feeling body is the huge amount of feeling that it entails.

We don’t talk enough about the feelings. The feelings matter a lot. 

Monday 18 September 2017

Some thoughts on 'the time will fly by'

It seems the 6 month+ version of 'is she a good baby' is 'make the most of it, the time will fly by'. It seems like all of a sudden strangers in the supermarket queue and middle aged people on trains are full of this wisdom. It's another one of these emotional cliches it seems everyone has internalised, and really, I have no idea why it's such a popular one. 

Firstly, experiences of time are subjective. Gretchen Rubin, who I love, has this mantra - 'the days are long but the years are short'. I get it, I love it, but I've never been a person who has found time to fly by. Honestly. Maybe it's because I've spent so much of my life working in numerous jobs, studying, working on hobbies, travelling back and forth to whatever place is 'home' or 'temporary home' or whatever, but time has never seemed to rush past. There is honestly nothing more agonising and slow than a 1 hour 40 minute Ryanair flight when your headphones are dead. Or 1 hour bus journeys twice a day. Or polishing cutlery. Or repeated the same movements week after week at the barre. Maybe I'm a total weirdo, but I've never felt the rush of time whizz through my outstretched palms, facing down my impending demise. Time is time, it's experienced in lots of different ways, but for me it never ever flies.

Secondly, there is a certain privilege in this testimony. Someone in a FB group posted a comic the other day and it went like this:

Mother and father are walking with baby. Mother pushes buggy. Father carries baby. 
Mother goes 'oh but it's such a long way and she's so heavy'. 
Father gushes 'one day she'll be too big to carry'. 
Father walks off into sunset with babe in arms, mother pushes stroller.

That's great, that's beautiful, but it's kind of bullshit. Why? Because babies are freakin' heavy, and my back and shoulders ache a lot of the time. It is totally central to the gendered inequalities of parenting in our society that the father in this comic is lauded as being some sort of bloody martyr while the mother wants the easy way out. I hold Anna and feed her and carry her about for about 8 hours a day. I love to put her down or better still, have someone else hold her. I can't wait for the day when she can just sit on a chair herself. 

Finally, babydom doesn't seem like all that much fun, guys. You pee yourself 10 times a day. You have to ask for absolutely everything you need, and you can't even customise your requirements. Why would I want my baby to stay in this suspended animation stage? I want her to flourish. To go to school, climb rocks, fall down, get back up, love and travel and cook and dance. I don't want her to be a baby for any longer than is absolutely necessary, for both her sake and mine. This is because babies are a hell of a lot of work, and also because I think she'd rather be a sentient being, squishy and adorable as she is.





Tuesday 15 August 2017

What it looks like, five and a half months of livin'


Five and a half months. Can you believe it? I can't. Sometimes I look at Anna and I'm totally floored by the fact that she exists. Every day her face looks a little different (I personally think she's starting to look a bit like me), every day her noises are a little more enthusiastic, her play choices more discerning. It's really crazy. 

Here's a few thoughts about it all:

How do I feel? I feel exactly the same as I did before. I don't really feel like 'a mother', I don't feel like any divine and sacred wisdom has been imparted upon me. I have a lot of lovely conversations about caring with mothers, grandmothers, aunties, people on the train or in the street. But when I'm without Anna, it's not as if I get knowing looks from other women, an 'I know you have experienced it'. It's weird, I feels I'm only a mother when I'm actively caring for Anna. Outside that, it's all a bit abstract. I don't think I know a whole lot about being a parent, I've only been doing it for the wink of an eye, and I'm constantly being challenged in new ways and having to renegotiate what exactly it is I'm about. I sort of feel like me, enhanced. Like I have this cool little buddy to come around with me and who I can explain things to. 

Caring for someone is so much more challenging and exhausting than I could ever have imagined. I breastfeed Anna, so 24 hours a day, I am on call. I wake up several times a night, if she needs a nap more often than not she needs to be fed to sleep. Recently she's been going through a phase of waking up every 2-3 hours. That's a lot. Being someone's sole source of sustenance is a big responsibility. It's time consuming, calorie consuming. It's wonderful and I don't regret it for a minute, but how on earth can a breastfeeding woman be expected to do so much, with so little support. That isn't a slight on the wonderful people in my life, that's a slight on our fragmented society. Caring for another little person is so tough when we live such solitary lives.

I think it's a good idea to slow down. I did lots of things in the first few months. We went to America, Sweden, the UK. I cleaned, a lot. I breastfed for about 7 hours a day (at least). I had an idea that I needed to go on with my life and take care of Anna. But that is too tiring, not least of all when recovering from pregnancy/labour. That's not to say I don't enjoy bringing her places where babies don't normally go. Proudly having her in a sling while I present at a conference, having her attend meetings, bringing her to conferences, libraries, the pub, Business Class flights. It's been really liberating to to break the mold, of keeping the baby hidden away unless it's pristinely dressed, silent and sleeping. Anna is as important as any adult and not only does she deserve to be present, but we can all benefit from having babies and children present in the things we do, to remind us of who we keep things going for (they are the future adults, after all), and that if a space isn't accessible for a woman and her baby (women do most of the caring after all) then maybe the space should be changed. But back to my original point. I'm tired, and I really enjoy spending time at home and going for long walks.  

To conclude: I enjoy caring for Anna a whole lot but it's very tiring and I sometimes wish I could press pause and have a break for like three hours. The presence of babies in public life is important. I am tired, but not very tired. A nice tired. Anna is a fantastic, joyful human. PhD, ha ha ha. Babies are better when they don't puke all over everything. Tummy time is a concept I never knew about before having a baby, but now dominates a lot of my waking life.

This post was very fragmented, but I think that represents what my life feels like right now: it's lots of little bits, half finished, all the time. But it's great.



Saturday 29 July 2017

Have baby, will travel

Anna is 21 weeks old (!!!!!) today! In her brief jaunt on planet earth Anna has travelled a lot. I mean really, really, a lot. All three of us are totally exhausted. We have been to:
  • Belfast (on a train - we did first class on the way up, standard on the way back)
  • New York (Aer Lingus - business class on the way over, economy on the way back)
  • Sweden (Norwegian - budget airline)
  • Newcastle/Durham (Anna and I travelled alone sans Leo, it was fine - Aer Lingus/Stobart Air over, Ryanair back)
  • Cork ( train down, car back)
Here's some stuff I learned on our travels:

PLAN EVERYTHING REALLY WELL
Sure, the first time we went away I had a slight freak-out the night before, but after that it was fine. Plus, Anna was really young then and we were pretty much still in the 'I need to be strapped to you 24/7 phase' which made getting the headspace to plan packing hard. When we went to America we had access to a washing machine so we definitely packed way too much. By the time we were on our way to Sweden I had it down. Planning everything and giving yourself way too much time is essential with a baby because they will poop/sick/you will lose something at the last minute, and it's good to have a buffer. Always have a buffer.

Where you will sleep is very important
If it is too hot/bright or if the mattress you will sleep on with your baby is too soft, you will not sleep well. It is hard to function if you haven't slept well. Obviously. Try to take care of yourself first and foremost. You can't take care of anyone else if you aren't your best self.

My baby still hates the car
Anna doesn't enjoy being strapped in in the car. This means we just avoided cars as much as possible. Public transport was our friend, and when we needed it, taxis (and a few times, the car). Enduring the screams has probably aged me +5 years. We drove home from Cork and she cried a lot. I found it really hard. At 4.5 months, she still really resents being strapped down (don't we all, love). I hope she gets used to it. 

Pack light
Easier said than done when you've an intensely pukey baby that requires multiple costume changes a day. But honestly, just having hand luggage (it is possible!!) saves time and hassle. Everyone packs too much anyway, you know it's true. I've pretty much accepted I may not be able to read a physical book for another few months, but with a pair of headphones I listen to podcasts every day. Plus, headphones take up basically no room.

It's easy to be happy when you're rich
You know those middle-class English families you see on trains with well-behaved children and a smiling, relaxed demeanour? They're happy because they're calm, their lives are ordered and they've got money. Paying more for extra space on a plane or train, being able to go by car (I guess, if your baby doesn't hate the car) and having people be nicer to you because you're going business makes a huge difference to your mood. We were really lucky to get Business Class (first time, probably the last time), and actually First Class on the train was totally affordable. Having that extra space, but also the extra attentiveness of staff was amazing. It was, of course, angering too because everyone should be very kind always, and this kindness is especially lacking when you find yourself back in economy.

How people behave towards you makes a huge difference
On my flight over to Newcastle I was sitting beside a man who was expecting his first baby. He was quite emotional to be beside such a little and excited baby. He was chatty and kind. On the way home I was sat next to a man who refused to even acknowledge us, even though Anna kept smiling at him. I found, every time someone made eye contact with Anna, wished us well, or offered to carry something, it elevated my mood. If we were ignored, pushed in front of, or spoken to rudely, it made my mood sink a little. Having people be kind to you makes such a difference when you're out there in the world with your baby, especially without a partner. You're quite vulnerable at times and do need an extra pair of hands and a smile from a stranger.

It's your (and your baby's) right to travel. Don't feel embarrassed
I had a few people (I guess ones who don't have children) make snarky comments about us travelling with a baby. But at the end of the day, Anna is a human being, and has the right to use public transport just as much as anyone else. As well as that, to assume that babies shouldn't be in public places is to render their mothers (generally) invisible too. Babies are wonderful. Sometimes they cry, or coo, or scream, or laugh. But, hey, so do adults. Babies should be seen and heard, it's normal and good, and exposing them to new things from a young age is great for them. We were all babies once. Look at Donald Trump, he still is one.

***

It's such a huge privilege to not only have the means to travel, but to have a passport that means we can take Anna anywhere we can afford to go. When she's older, I will have to explain that a lot of children in the world can't do that. We're very lucky, and we shouldn't forget it for a second.



Wednesday 28 June 2017

The myth of the Good Baby

The question I am most frequently asked is about my baby is - 'is she a Good Baby'. What is this supposed Good Baby? Well, it's inferred that a Good Baby sleeps 'through the night' (what does that mean, anyway?), doesn't cry too much, but also should cry sometimes because that's a good sign, feeds enough to be gaining weight but isn't 'on the boob night and day'. A good baby is the stereotypical configuration of all our worst, most selfish and scientifically void expectations of a tiny human. 

How can so many demands and expectations be made of such a tiny, flawless and perfect human being, so unblighted by the rules and fancies of culture and convention, gender roles and glass ceilings? A baby is a baby, and a baby just is. If it cries, it cries. If it sleeps, it sleeps. If it doesn't, it's because it isn't born with the innate ability to regulate it's sleep habits. Sometimes it will cry without a specific identifiable reason and all you can do is hold it close and love it. That's not bad.

In the Christian tradition, babies are baptised so that they can be absolved of Original Sin. It used to be that babies who died before baptism went to limbo/purgatory, but then the Catholic church reneged on that idea. All those poor babies who were just floating out in space were granted their rightful place in heaven then, I suppose. It's many years since I've believed in sinners or sins, and I've never believed that a tiny human, so innocent and impulsive, is capable of being anything other than good. 

Now, Anna does actually sleep pretty well, and smiles at strangers and stops crying when her need is met. But if she didn't, and if my future children don't do those things, is it right to call them Bad Babies? Is there some sort of bad baby bootcamp where they learn to sleep for 12 hours straight, never do poo-splosions and coo sweetly upon waking, not cry out for their mother who is not in the room, therefore is not currently in their world?

If we could just cut out this nonsense about bad babies, like we should about women being delicate or 'hormonal', periods being embarrassing, maybe women would be able to chill out, enjoy their experience as mothers, and love their baby for who they are and not what society says it should be.

Sunday 4 June 2017

The fourth trimester comes to an end

They say that human infants are born too early. Some of the least developed of all mammals at their birth, you won't see them standing up after a few hours like a foal, or leaving their mother for the wide world after a few days. Human babies are frighteningly fragile and dependent for a very long time. 

The Fourth Trimster is the term used to describe the first three months of a tiny human's life. In this time they are so helpless. They need you for everything. At the start they cannot move much, have no circadian rhythm to speak of, have tiny stomachs that need filling constantly, and can't tell who you are much more than recognise your smell. I was unprepared for just how alone my baby seemed in the first few weeks. I felt mournful for her. I felt bad for bringing a tiny human out of her comfortable dark place and into a world of smells, noises, discomforts. 

When Anna was 5 weeks old she looked up at me with big eyes and smiled a big smile as we nursed. That was the most definite sign of forward progress. During our Fourth Trimester we did all those things they call 'attachment parenting' that I just call being a decent adult to an infant you gave birth to. I wore her in a sling, she slept near by and gradually just beside me. I fed her around the clock, whenever she seemed even the slightest bit restless. I never let her cry if I could help it, because there was no need. She slept in my arms during the day, and we were never apart.

I kept her close to me at all times, at first, gradually introducing more people into her life so that now, at 12 weeks, she spends several days a week being held and talked to by various relatives and friends. I want her to feel part of a wider unit than just her immediate family, so this feels like a natural step. It's also important for my sense of self. I don't want to be the only person who can make my baby happy. Knowing she can feel safe around other people is crucial because I want to be a lot of things, not just a mother (although that's a Very Important Thing). 

Now here we are. Standing at the edge of a new place, a wide open space full of light and rolling grass. This is the future. Anna isn't a tiny, helpless newborn anymore. She's a little baby, three months old, who lies on the ground and kicks and swipes. She smiles and gurgles at anyone and everyone. She sleeps with her arms above her head, loves when her dad holds her stretched out. She's growing so much, and will continue to do so at breakneck speed until my little baby is able to do all sorts of incredible things. 

Becoming a new parent is scary as hell, but I'm sure being born is too. We now look forward to what's to come with impatient anticipation. 

Here's to the future, with love.




Tuesday 16 May 2017

Postpartum reflections: 10 weeks on

When Anna was just brand new I was trying very hard to convince myself that everything was already fine. 'Act the way you want to feel' just doesn't work when you've given birth, unfortunately. We did a lot of cleaning, I made sure I had multiple 'I'm fine, see, I even have to shower' showers, I generally moved around a lot and rested a little. I really didn't sleep much that first fortnight, and by nighttime every day I was blubbering all sorts of nonsense. All in the name of wanting to be on top of things before I could even realistically know what those things might be.

Now Anna is 10 weeks old and I'm finally allowing myself the time to recover. My body is tired, so tired. Bits and pieces aren't what they used to be, and making sure the bed doesn't have any puke on it isn't going to fix that. I need to give myself time. I've been enjoying going out and about with Anna more. We went to the cinema, met friends in town, went shopping. We baked a cake for Leo's birthday, relaxed on puke-covered sheets. We take day-naps together now. I rarely shower. I can also do things that feel liberating. Last week I did potatoes while breastfeeding in a sling. I also left the dishes for hours and didn't feel bad about it. We didn't go to the shops and I didn't change out of my pajamas. It was glorious.

Today we went to IKEA and I realised I can't really push a full trolley right now. My abdominal region is an absolute disaster. Anna is feeding less frequently now that she's bigger and that's left me feeling achy and uncomfortable. I felt like I'd been transported back to the first week, 3/4 days in, when the milk was coming and I was a mess. I got an email for the fitness classes I did antenatally, to join the postnatal group. I laughed and deleted. Who are these women who, six weeks on, can do squats and lunges and burpees? I feel, physically, like a wrung sponge. If I do anything outside of lots of walking and stretching, it'll be some relaxed pilates. I'm laughing at my past self who thought she would be able to jump right back into things. My days of planks might be a distant memory. 

We're growing into each other, and I'm giving myself time. Learning such a significant new addition is all-consuming, She's an amazing human and helping her grow is unbelievable. Time. We need to just give it time.



Monday 8 May 2017

Baby's first weekend away

This weekend we took Anna to Belfast for her first ever trip away from home. It was a roaring success. The weather was beautiful, we were in First Class on the way up (oooh la la), we had three totally unnecessary and glutenous courses at Pizza Express (does anyone ever not use a voucher there?) I finally chopped my hair, and we had a brilliant bath/junk food/trashy tv blowout in the evening. Absolute heaven. Doing everything with Anna feels very emotional and significant, I know I'll remember this weekend forever.

I had been a bit apprehensive about how travelling with a baby might go, but it was a total dream. If anything, I was the party pooper (labour is really hard work and my body is far from it's best self = walking a lot is very hard work these days and I have all sorts of emotions). Because newborns basically just sleep, eat and smile up at everybody, Anna is super-portable, and breastfeeding means she can be instantly calmed down. 

No worries, happy baby, happy parents. 






Friday 21 April 2017

My newborn hates being swaddled

Swaddling used to be the 'standard' sleeping aid for a newborn. Then the SIDS research brigade who want to ruin everything that could possibly help new parents get some much-needed shut eye said swaddling was a SIDS risk. So now midwives don't recommend swaddling. Whatever, we got a swaddle sleeping bag as a gift, and Anna's startle reflex wakes her up at unpredictable moments unless she's wrapped up tight at night. She kind of looks like Frodo after he's been stuck with poison by Shelob, I don't like it, but it's the only reason she sleeps more than 40 minutes. 

But god damn, she hates that swaddle. Baby loves swiping with her newly-discovered arms, the swaddle is a prison of parental convenience.

Here's a recreation of how our early morning routine goes. This typically takes place any time between 4am and 7am. 

Baby: I hate swaddle *struggles and tries desperately to get out of swaddle*
Me: Oh, but you love swaddle. Here, I feed you.
Baby: Oh ok, but I really do hate swaddle *some non-committal attempts to get out of swaddle*
Feeding ends, baby goes back asleep with swaddle slightly looser than before, perhaps a little hand is gentle creeping out of the top.

-30 minutes pass-

Baby: I hate swaddle *struggles with greater urgency*
Me: Here, I feed you.
Baby: *Struggles with greatest level of urgency*
Me: Ok, I take it off.

-Baby wriggles, does extreme stretching for several minutes, vomits liberally all over self -

Rinse, repeat.

Wednesday 12 April 2017

5.5 weeks

Little Anna is nearly 6 weeks old. It's been the longest and the shortest of times I've ever experienced, and I'm sure she'd agree, if she could. 

Last Tuesday we reached a huge turning point. It seemed to happen in the blink of an eye -  my little sleepy-eyed newborn turned into a fully fledged human! I looked down at her, and she was gazing earnestly up at me, with her big eyes shining and alert. She's also started smiling and gurgling. As well as that, she's upped her limb-flailing considerably. Arms up in this 'champion' gesture after eating, legs kicking wildly whenever she's laid on the floor. Leo is particularly impressed by her strong legs.

I'm sure this doesn't sound like a huge deal, baby smiles, world keeps turning, but after weeks and weeks of giving constant care to someone to whom you might as well be a piece of toast or a chair, this is monumental. To have her suddenly engage with you, use her eyes to communicate in one of the very limited ways she can, is huge. It makes your heart swell and you cannot stop smiling, because this little baby finally acknowledges you. 

In other positive news, the possetting is beginning to taper off. Or maybe it hasn't, maybe I've become so used to being coated in a layer or regurgitated milk that my sense of proportion is entirely skewed. (Naw, I'm joking, it definitely has). This is seriously welcome, as cluster feeding (the horror!) has recommenced in the last two days.

For those not in the know, cluster feeding is intense periods of feeding (constant, it's constant) that accompany developmental milestones. You also get extra bonus fussiness, bouts of crying and general unreasonable baby stuff. I'm seeing a lot of reddening of the face, followed by some serious wailing. 

But you know what? It's totally cool. I am hoping and hoping that every passing day of fussiness, constant feeding, and every night of broken sleeps (although relative to some other babies I hear about, it's really nothing, I get at least 6 hours every night, she's really sound like that) means she's closer to being her best self. She's closer to being able to feed efficiently and quickly, closer to having a functioning digestive system, being able to lift her head up, getting fat and being the healthiest she can be. What's a few months of fussy baby, relentless feeding, puking and broken sleep, for a baby that is growing and learning and changing at such tremendous speed? Babies are total champions really. Well done, Anna. Well done.

Leo made this baby gym!
Anna particularly enjoys swiping at the heart shaped bells that make a nice jingling noise.

Tuesday 28 March 2017

The one most important lesson I've learned about motherhood so far

I've been a mother for a grand total of 3 weeks and 4 days. So obviously that makes me some sort of expert. Ok, while I'm admittedly very new to this crazy life, I have had to do some major adjusting, as all new parents have to. It's been the fastest learning curve of my adult life. Having a newborn is really tiring, and, honestly, in those first few days, before they have any limb control, can't see or smell you properly, and aren't really reassured by you, it can be less-than-rewarding. All you have is the irrational love you feel, the hormones keeping you awake, and the expectations for the future.

I found myself losing my temper at night when I had to wake up, and my baby is actually really sound. She'll sleep for between 2 and 4 hours at a time at night. That's amazing, based on what I've read on The Google. She's generally really chilled out and accommodating. Right now she's sitting in her bouncer possetting gently all over her bib and making wonderful finding herself noises and chewing her hand. It'll probably be at least five minutes before I need to pick her up and give her cuddles again. That is amazing.

But it was tough, and I lost my temper frequently - at Leo, at the situation, at my own perceived failings. In those first few days I felt like Leo was a much better mother than me. The guy has boundless patience and never harbours resentment. I, on the other hand, was a Progesterone fulled monster, prone to bouts of tears that were not always 'isn't it so great that we did this' (although there were probably more happy tears than sad tears, such was the volume of happy tears I cried). 

I indulged myself and wallowed in the postpartum messiness for a bit longer than was probably fair, about two weeks. I gradually tried to integrate self-calming techniques into my habits so I would stop freaking out every time she puked on my top (about ten times a day, big deal, that's what wipes are for), or if her latch or the let-down was painful (in the early days I would grimaced, before I realised breathing in was a much better tactic than snapping at Leo).

I still lose it every now and then, especially when sleep has been minimal and it's late at night. I think fondly of the limitless naps of my pregnancy, being able to just lie there with nothing pending. But lately I've been reminding myself of one crucial thing, the point that makes all the tiredness and discomfort redundant.

She didn't ask for this.

My baby didn't ask to be brought into the world. And while I'm sure those 9 months in the womb were cushy beyond belief, coming out into all of this - learning to eat, use her lungs and grow her tummy and communicate, that's all hard work. Coupled with that, she can't see properly, tell us how she feels, or dictate anything about her environment. All she can do is cry and suck. So how could I hold her accountable? How could I be resentful of her waking up and wanting to be fed or cuddled? She can't help it if she pukes, her stomach is the size of a walnut. If she cries because she doesn't know what she wants, who I am to judge? 

I read a lot of online content where people complain about how tired they are, how frustrated they are with their baby's behaviour etc. I had my time to wallow, all 14 days of it, and I am so ready to cut my ties with that sort of thinking. It does no one any favours. Aside from those who have unplanned/unwanted pregnancies, the rest of us choose our path. We have months to mull it over, educate ourselves and prepare for the journey ahead. We go to classes, buy the little baby grows and get excited. We take pictures and savour the prospects. So I just remember that, when I'm feeling tired or low. I wanted this. I actively chose this. She didn't. She had no say in the matter. So my role now is to give her the best possible time I can before she can make choices for herself. Nothing more.



Thursday 23 March 2017

The first three weeks

It’s been a rollercoaster, life with our little woman. Leo goes back to work tomorrow, bringing to an end the first phase of the postpartum period. For three weeks we’ve been living in a bubble – walks during the day, eating chocolate digestives by the packet, endless cups of tea, nighttime feeds, tears (so many tears) and trips to the Rotunda for one reason or another. It’s been, probably, the most transformative three weeks of our lives, at least since we went through this experience as newborns ourselves. It’s really amazing just how much time it takes keeping a tiny person ticking over. Breastfeeding has been one of the hardest things imaginable, I never would have thought it would have been such an overwhelming task. I’ll write more about that later, but all I want to say for now is that the support in Ireland, I feel is inadequate. I am a healthy and smart young woman, and the struggle I felt to establish breastfeeding with my baby almost drove me to quit the whole thing, and made me feel truly incompetent and helpless. But we got there in the end, we’re still getting there to be honest, but it get easier every day. Today we walked to Newbridge House in Donabate and I was able to feed her in the sling as we walked, a milestone for us.

If I could characterise the first week, it would be ‘struggle’. A huge struggle. I slept only a few hours, and Leo didn’t sleep many more. The problems all seemed to centre around breastfeeding, and we even thought we might have to spend a night in hospital on day 3/4. Luckily, Leo is a super human and devised an amazing feeding schedule on the advice of the doctor. He also let me sleep for a chunk of time, which saved me from breaking down altogether. The first days were made harder by two things – recovery itself (although by all means I had an excellent delivery, needing only a few stitches). I lost a bit of blood and was pale and feint for a few days. This made it hard to summon up the energy to do what needed to be done, but the hormones got me where I needed to be. My body was generally exhausted and sore from the whole thing. I went through the entire labour in one day, and that shock to the system was something indeed.  The second thing was the lack of preparedness. We realised Anna was a lot smaller than most of the baby grows we had, and the bibs were totally inadequate. We did a lot of fervent and too-small, uneconomical washes in those first days. I also didn’t realise how important simple things like a comfortable chair and a breastfeeding pillow would be. Eventually we all got the hang of changing nappies and feeding, and Anna began to thrive. For her one week birthday celebration, we had a cake.

Week two was a muddle of more of the same. We had a lot of visitors around, which was exhausting for me and stressful for her. The milk came in, which brought with it a sense of relief but also pain and confusion about what to do, and when. I attended a local breastfeeding support group and am looking forward to getting to know those ladies more. Our public health nurse came and weighed Anna, and gave us a lot of information about her development and immunisations etc. She was amazing and kind, it was a real reassurance. Somehow, in spite of the business, we managed to take our first train journey, have our first meal out (Korean), get some sleep, and keep the house in a reasonable state of cleanliness. I know the advice is to take it easy, let the house get messy and take care of yourself, but I have never been one to…take advice. No, not really, but I love having a clean space, it relaxes me and a relaxed mum is a relaxed baby.

Week three, here we are. Anna and I made it to our first meeting together (!), the service user forum at the Rotunda. It was a great experience, I am keen to share my suggestions and feedback on their maternity services, and it was great to initiative Anna into service user engagement at such a young age. We had her two week GP checkup, and she’s gained a good bit of weight, which is a huge relief. Last night we even got about seven hours sleep. Since she’s gaining weight I no longer feel like I need to rigorously get her up every 2-3 hours for a feed. If she can sleep 4, more power to her. The main thing getting me down is the posseting, which is constant. I have to change my top several times a day, and we’ve had quite a few explosions already. I hope she grows out of it soon. I knew babies peed and pooped a lot, the vomiting is something else altogether. Tomorrow will be a challenge – our first day home alone, but luckily after that it’s the weekend, and we get two full days with Leo before it’s back to the grind. I’m really looking forward to getting into our ‘real life’ routine. This is it, it’s her and me at home most of the week, with Leo in the evenings and on the weekends. I’m wondering how realistic it is to hope to get PhD work done so soon, but I’m up for the challenge!


Friday 17 March 2017

Cat

I absolutely love all things Lake Woebeon/Garrison Keillor. 

I get a daily poem from him, but I love them so much my inbox is just full of unread ones I don't want to forget. Here's a great one about cats.
Leave a door open long enough, a cat will enter.
Leave food, it will stay.
Soon, on cold nights,
you’ll be saying “Excuse me”
if you want to get out of your chair.
But one thing you’ll never hear from a cat
is “Excuse me."
Nor Einstein’s famous theorem.
Nor "The quality of mercy is not strained."
In the dictionary of Cat, mercy is missing.
In this world where much is missing,
a cat fills only a cat-sized hole.
Yet your whole body turns toward it
again and again because it is there.
 "A Small-Sized Mystery" by Jane Hirshfield from Come, Thief.

Wednesday 22 February 2017

Waiting waiting

Still patiently awaiting the arrival of Bab. It feels like every time I speak to a midwife, or any other human really, they ask me about 'pain' and feeling scared or worried. Since the beginning of human life, women have been birthing babies, without epidurals, pitocin or episiotimies. I'm really glad we have wonderful advances in medicine that mean there are only 10 maternal deaths per 100,000  in our part of the world (source), but I don't for a second believe that the regularity with which interventions are undertaken for routine and low-risk births are helpful for anyone. Nor that the fear, uncertainty and lack of education around what happens during pregnancy, labour and the post-natal period is helpful at all, in the slightest, for any of us. It's incredibly dis-empowering. I'm sure the birth will be fine, in fact I'm looking forward to it a lot. A test of mental and physical strength, with a great present at the end, what could be better?

We've received so many flowers, cards and gifts to welcome us into our new home and for our impending arrival, it's really sweet and a little overwhelming, but in a good way. So many changes this year, it's so lovely to see how much people care. 





Until our arrival...arrives, you'll find me in the kitchen sitting on my exercise ball, editing my PhD, cooking, hoovering, reading Nordic crime fiction, and generally being super chill. 

Saturday 4 February 2017

Hello February - the final weeks of being two

If I'm being honest, I'm writing this post in a much grumpier frame of mind than when I intended to begin it several days ago. Today, house things are just being too much. But, look, I have a lasagne in the oven and some cookie dough prepared, so it ain't all that bad, folks.

2016 was a dream. Really. Finding out the amazing news that we would become parents, moving back to Ireland, continuing my wonderful PhD that I love, getting to speak at conferences all over the UK, really, I've been beyond lucky. Coming back to Ireland and picking up the roots of an old life has been strange, and living with housemates trying at times, but on the whole everything's working out really well.

Unlike, it seems, the entirety of the left-leaning world, I am choosing to focus on the positives in 2017. In 2016 Brexit and Trump happened, and more than one of our favourite celebrities kicked the bucket. There's been a lot to be devastated about, but I chose to not wallow, or become vitriolic, like too many people in the media or on Twitter, or around academia. 

I chose to be proactive in my own way. To organise collections of sanitary products for refugees in the local area (https://thnkngnrth.wordpress.com/2015/12/07/its-important-to-share/), to be kinder to everyone around me, to organise anti-austerity events, to continue to improve myself and my environment. I don't want be sad and angricey because a bunch of people don't like the EU. Hell, I don't even like the EU. And we could all use this opportunity to learn a little bit about those who are socially, politically and economically very far away from us. In the meantime, there's too much in the world to be joyful about.

Rant over, back to my very small little world, and the great things in it. Leo and I have moved into a home that is all our own, and are getting ready to share it with a small human in a couple of weeks. Life is about to change, forever, in ways I can't begin to imagine. We're both so full of expectation and excited.

Here's to 2017, to a new bab, to maybe getting this PhD finished or nearly finished, to living in a shiny new place, learning new things, and cooking in a kitchen belonging all to oneself. 

Skål!!