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.

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.

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. 

Domino midwife-led care at the Rotunda: a first time mother's experience

From September through to March when my baby was born I was registered with the Domino scheme at the Rotunda.  Prior to that I was living in the UK so I was getting my antenatal care solely through the NHS. I was really keen to have my birth experience as midwife-led as possible. I am uncomfortable with the medicalisation of childbirth and pregnancy and know midwives to be more than competent when it comes to the excellent work they do helping women to give birth. 

I wanted that experience for myself especially as, faced with the prospect of giving birth in Ireland, I was very worried about the implications of religious influences on healthcare (and the rhetoric about the 8th Amendment, quite frankly, had me scared senseless, something which was unfounded, I came to realise). As it turned out, the Domino scheme was just right for me. The midwives were at all times professional and caring, and the early release from the hospital was exactly what I wanted. Their postnatal care was an absolute godsend. That being said, there were some issues I had with the scheme, mostly from an organisational point of view, and I will discuss these too.

What is the Domino scheme?

Domino is midwife-led antenatal and postnatal care 'in the community'. For low-risk women there is the option of attending a health centre in the local area to have checkups with midwives. This means you can avoid going into the busy and often frenetic Rotunda outpatients for your checkups, which are frequent. If you need any specific checks, you can just go into the Rotunda and a Domino midwife will do what needs to be done. I had to go in for an extra ultrasound to check baby wasn't in breach (she wasn't, she just had a big bum that felt like a head!) and she just told me at 11 am that morning to meet her there at 2 pm, and I was in and out within ten minutes.

Postnatally, a community midwife will visit you for up to a week. I can only speak for my own experience, but the midwives checked mysutures (stitches for tears, most women will tear a little), checked my mental and physical wellbeing (a bit ironic really, the time you need the most sleep and rest is the time of your life you will not get it), weigh your baby (crucial in the early days), and offer breastfeeding support (latch latch latch, ladies).

The Domino midwives also have a mobile number you can ring 8am-8pm and while they don't always answer it (high demand) I was able to reach them a number of times for specific information.

Getting on the Domino scheme

I called the Rotunda in advance to ask about the scheme. The website didn't mention Killester, the area I was living in Dublin 5, but I was really relieved to hear that I would be covered. In fact, we moved just before the birth, to Donabate, Co. Dublin, and again the midwives were happy for me to continue my Domino care. Luckily, they have a clinic in Swords which is nearby. At my booking appointment I inquired about the Domino scheme and was referred to the Darndale clinic from that point on. 

The practicalities of the Domino visits

I attended the Darndale clinic because I was told it was heavily undersubscribed (territorial stigma, eat your heart out).  I found the process to be wonderful. Since I am a PhD student it was no problem to have my appointments in the morning, so the Darndale clinic suited me better than, say, Coolock which were all in the evening.

I would cycle over for the appointment around 10am (I received a reminder text the night before) and combine some exercise and fresh air with the visit. The queuing system was somewhat disorganised, you took a number but there wasn't really any connection between these numbers and the midwives, it was just for us women to organise ourselves. It felt quite typically Irish, to be honest, and added to the feeling of confusion on my first visit, when I sat for over an hour waiting.

The appointments usually last between 10 and 20 minutes. Your urine is tested (when you're pregnant you pee in containers constantly), blood pressure checked, maybe a blood sample taken if you have low red blood cell count. Then you stomach is palpated and the midwife listens to baby's heart. There's always the opportunity to ask questions, and the midwives seemed to really cater their care to how they perceived my preferences to be. For example, I asked a lot about natural birth options, whether a Doula could be brought in (no, basically) etc. so I was recommended hypnobirthing a number of times.

You take your own medical file and keep it at home, which made me feel more involved overall.

The good and the bad

The maternity services in Ireland, like the health sector in general, are not the most efficient. That being said, during my antenatal, birth and postnatal care, I received a highly professional and caring service from all midwives and doctors. My only sources of stress stemmed from the administration of the care (breastfeeding support aside, but I will address that in another post). Unfortunately, how the system is structured really does affect how you will receive your care, so the two cannot be separated.

The 'goods' were plentiful. I received amazing care for highly qualified individuals, and got the opportunity to educate myself through antenatal classes and researching for and writing a birth plan. The appointments were convenient and short, and the clinic was quiet and not stress-inducing (the Rotunda, on the other hand, was very stress-inducing for me).

The bad - Postnatally, the midwives visit your home for up to a week. However, they don't give you a definite time-frame, it could be any time of the day. This uncertainty, coupled with a new baby, no sleep, recovery pain and a messy house, does nothing for your mental wellbeing. I was woken from brief naps several times by the buzz of the doorbell. A little forewarning of, for example, a three hour window in which they might call would have made all the difference. 

As mentioned above, the queuing system and general atmosphere behind the midwife's door was often chaotic. I don't like to be rushed, especially when I'm concerned about aspects of my care, or just really really confused, as I often was (hey, there's a lot to learn first time round). Depending on the midwife I met, we could either go through all my questions in detail until I was satisfied, or I could end up feeling, frankly, fobbed off. I persevered and eventually I got all the information I needed, but I do understand why many women end up being unprepared for their births and why misinformation abounds and intervention rates are so high.

Final thoughts

That the Domino scheme exists and operates so successfully is a huge credit to the maternity system. I would love to see a shift towards this type of care as standard. It would unburden the Rotunda hospital to an extent, and make life easier for women. If you value midwife-led care and the convenience of attending appointments nearer your home, and if leaving the hospital shortly after giving birth (I left 20 hours after delivery) is something you want, the scheme is really useful. Having a midwife visit your home is so handy, especially in the early days of breastfeeding. 

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.

Week 6: the struggle is real

Week 6 of our life with Anna was really hard. All the work I'd done to get to a state where I was 'managing' unraveled before my eyes, and I was once again crying at 1am, 2.30am, 4am, 5am etc. It's actually scary what just a few nights of little sleep can do to a person.

Some people live in the past. I, however, project my worries into an imagined future. So, when our little baby who was sleeping for 2.5-4 hour stints from about three weeks began waking up every 40 minutes, or not settling at all, I freaked out. I imagined that that was it, I had broken the tenuous balance of 'just enough' sleep, that it was my fault and we were going to spend the next 12 months getting up on the hour. 'But I need to finish my PhD', I sobbed to myself. 

I knew week 6 is a huge developmental milestone for a baby. Anna was going through some serious stuff - all that growing and figuring out is exhausting and scary for such a tiny human. Instead of acknowledging that it was an important phase, and she would grow out of it, I freaked out. I didn't see the good - how we'd successfully taken the train on our own and becoming more relaxed feeding in the wrap. I only saw the scary, uncontrollable things.

A lot of good came out of that week. Anna looks into our eyes with a face lit up with a big smile now. She gurgles and babbles. If you try to hold her on your knee she determinedly straightens her legs and 'stands'. She sits in her bouncer and watches curiously as I do things in the kitchen. Her eyes follow me or Leo around rooms. Can anything possibly beat that?

I'm writing this for the sake of providing a well-balanced account of my experiences of life with a newborn. I sometimes struggle. It's ok to struggle, but it's also important to put those struggles into context, into the catalogue of 'life experiences' and not blow them out of proportion. The most important thing to remember: if you freak out in the middle of the night and throw a huge strop, always remember to say sorry.

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.

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.

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!

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.

http://writersalmanac.org/

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. 

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!!

My smartphone is making me sad

In the past year or so I've tried to embrace better habits. A huge part of that has been learning what makes me happier, what makes me not-happy (sad, stressed out, anxious), what motivates me, and how I best interact with others. Central to this is understanding that fostering good habits leads to a happier self. One of my bad habits is definitely my over-reliance on my smartphone.

[My Christmas didn't look like this, it was really nice, but here's a helpful article: http://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2015/12/15/resisting-reaching-for-the-smartphone-temptation-this-holiday-season/]

Ironically, my PhD is involved in directly challenging the individualised and individual-centric nature of our society. I argue on a regular basis that it is the political and economic determinants of the social structures we operate within that really have a lasting and often damaging impact upon our health, and not our individual practices. At the time same time I've found myself being drawn to strands of medicine, healing, health practices and philosophy that place our habits and practices at the centre of their modus operandi. I've found them incredibly useful, life-changing even. 

To be honest, I've found that these modes of thinking don't really contradict my political and intellectual beliefs, but reinforce them. For example, there is no doubt that for most individuals, late-(or post- or whatever we're calling it these days) capitalism is an overwhelmingly negative thing, feeding us the idea that consumer culture and cheap airfare can compensate for insecure work, fragmented family lives and disrupted lifecourses. Having an ideological standpoint about how to oppose this process helps in some way, particularly if we surround ourselves with a confirmation-bias bubble of those who believe the same as we do. 

But at the same time, I've actually found this has made me more unhappy rather than more able to challenge the system I find myself wrapped up in. 'The left' is an angry and disillusioned place in many ways, and I've found more often than not I agree on certain issues but disagree on even more (there's more than one way to skin a cat, and I probably have less in common with conventional male 'Marxists' than I would ever have imagined a few years ago) and that leads to further feelings of isolation, when the people you're supposed to be on-side with are actually coming from a very different set of experiences, and seem unreflexive about this.

So, I've found that being introspective is one way of dealing with this and with all the negative feelings that can stem from it. That's very much in keeping with the idea of 'insulating' the self, of doing what you can to mediate your relationship with external factors you have very little control over to ensure the extent to which they can pollute your health and wellbeing is limited. In a lot of ways, that's a very neoliberal thought.

Unfortunately, there's one element of my life that feels like it is often outside of my control. That is, the little terror in my pocket-the smartphone. It got especially stressful in the run-up to Christmas, trying to negotiate who wanted to bring what to Christmas lunch, and planning the timing of lots of different lives coming together from a smartphone screen.

I'd love to open up a dialogue where we can honestly talk about how technology makes us feel, and by that I mean the bad as well as the good. So here you go, I've made a short list of why my smartphone is bad for me.

Being always on is terrifying 

When I was younger, the dial-up internet connection opened up a world of forums, of MSN, of all these different people and concepts I'd had zero exposure to before. It was life-changing. But if someone had to use the phone, and intermittently for absolutely no reason, I got disconnected. If someone else wanted to use the computer, that was it. My connection to the internet existed solely on this desktop computer, mediated by an impossibly slow dial-up modem. Now, the internet lives in my pocket. I used to find this totally overwhelming when I had apps like Facebook and Gmail send me notifications. I've since turned off every single push notification on my phone, but that doesn't stop me from sometimes having to turn off my phone or put it in flight mode so I can just listen to music without the compulsive need to check Instagram or Whatsapp. And I am convinced Facebook Messenger is the single worst thing to happen to our mental health in the past few years. That, and the double-tick on Whatsapp that lets you know when someone has read your message.

Being contactable at all times has removed the sanctity of 'hometime', 'the weekend' and taken away some of our agency

My supervisor is an absolute legend at work-life balance, and she taught me early on to take my weekends off and to not work in the evening. But there have been instances, for example when doing the admin role I had in addition to my PhD in 1st and 2nd year, when tutoring, and when planning fieldwork, conference papers etc. that its impossible to shut off, either because of the people you're working in conjunction with are slaves to their emails, or because of looming deadlines. I've found that trying to switch off at reasonable junctures is the only way to keep sane, but I can only imagine this will get harder when I am no longer only answerable to myself (i.e. employed by somebody) and when I have to juggle baby and work. Setting good habits now is how I'm saving my sanity for later. Furthermore, communicating primarily by text or instant message is incredibly stressful for me. It leads to an eternal lack of clarity, and it's so easy to spout off negative nonsense. If we could just pick up the phone and talk to the people we want to make plans with instead of the drip-drip of texts, wouldn't we all be happier?

It's bad for our sleep cycles and our eyes

I can be pretty compulsive (sure, aren't we all), so I am quite bad at checking something on my phone in the middle of the night. Although, to be honest, I've pretty much stopped doing this now. Especially when I lived between two countries, the urge to stay up late in the dark staring at a tiny screen, or replying to a message in the middle of the night, was intense. You know what's bad for our natural circadian pattern? The light from smartphones. Do you know what's bad for getting into a deep sleep? Thinking about a message, waiting for someone to reply to a message, mindlessly refreshing the Guardian website (pathetic, I know), or reading passive-aggressive forums. Just go to sleep. Sleep is good for you, makes you healthy, get enough sleep.

By way of conclusion

I actually started writing this post about two weeks ago when I was getting majorly stressed out about organising Christmas (there were 9 people for dinner in total, it was very stressful, and now I am sick). I've since then calmed down a little bit, although my basic gripes with smartphones remain. They are a great resource for travelling, living in a new place, and being flexible. Google Maps, internet banking, email and video chat can be amazing resources, when you're in control of them. But the internet has shifted a gear in the past few years, and we need to be honest with ourselves about that. It now feels, to me anyway, that social media and other online tools for enhancing our lives are actually more about shilling products, selling services, making us narcissistic and insecure, and developing and encouraging addictive tendencies. That's a topic I could talk about all day, so I'll leave it for now. I'm not sure where I'm going with this post, other than we need to start being honest with ourselves about smartphone use and how it makes us feel.

***I've been listening to this podcast called Note to Self (http://www.wnyc.org/shows/notetoself) lately and they have some really good episodes on these topics. The recent episodes 'Go Ahead, Miss Out' and 'Distracted is the New Drunk' were excellent. 

Birthday celebrations in Budapest and Vienna

For my birthday, Leo and I took a trip to Budapest and Vienna. It was a really memorable week, very relaxing, and we experienced a lot of new things.

Budapest

Budapest was reasonably priced, historical, had good food and great cake, lovely people, fantastic thermal baths, and felt like going back in time a few years. We had a relaxing few days, celebrated my birthday and other nice things happening in our lives, ate lovely food, visited the Christmas market, and were enchanted at a street where a book binder, a cobbler and an old book seller were plying their trades. It's not often you see such authenticity anymore. 

Vienna

Vienna was cosy, affluent, comfortable. We bought Christmas presents, visited Karl Marx Hof, met friends for dinner, ate in an overpriced but luxurious cafe every morning, and visited a gorgeous healthfood store. Oh, we also visited a couple of their amazing Christmas markets and had mulled wine, hot chocolate and other good things.

Getting ready for Christmas

Did I ever mention how much I truly live for Christmas? Christmas FM playing every day, baking cookies, decorating the house with loads of fairy lights (no tree this year, as we're living in a temporary situation and it doesn't feel right), hot chocolate, and telling everyone constantly how Christmas is my favourite time of the year.

I've been hoarding every item I've bought myself since about October, got the food shopping list ready to go, and booked tickets for a screening of It's a Wonderful Life on the 21st. Yep, pretty excited over here. 

Rosehip syrup

Leo's Aunt gave us some of her rosehip syrup at Easter time, and since then I've been waiting impatiently to collect my own rosehips so I could get on it. Rosehip syrup is rich in Vitamins C, D and A and it tastes incredible, subtle and not so sweet at all. Go out and make your own, don't bother spending a fortune on buying something that grows in the park!

Here's the recipe I loosely followed, one of those hilariously vague things you could only find in an Irish newspaper. Enjoy! 

10th day of autumn

This picture doesn't look like much. And really it's not. It's just a gal, eating a danish on a lunchroom plate. But it's more than that. It is a visual representation of utter satisfaction and contentment. Really, I swear. Because the weather is perfect, I have a lovely bike, and I'm entering a truly exciting phase of my PhD: the writing-up stage. I'm back in Dublin, where I feel completely at home, and good things are happening. This danish says all that. If you don't see it, you just aren't looking hard enough.

A wee update

It's been a while since I've written here. The truth is, I've been busy. Very busy. We're in the midst of planning for one major life-altering event, and several smaller life-altering events.

First, I am expecting a baba. This first-time, mind blowing event took over my entire being for about four and a half months, and it's only in the last week or so that I've begun to feel like an independent entity again. Aside from the emotional preparation and shift in thinking that had to take place, physically it took a huge toll on me. Round the clock nausea in the first 12 weeks were later replaced by gastro-intestinal issues I don't need to go into here. I was so tired for the first few months I was worried I'd never manage to do anything PhD related again. But I'm slowly and determinedly getting back to my old self, or as much of that old self as I can get back. Accepting changes, adapting and embracing all the new, wonderful things happening to me has been an incredible process. 

Secondly, I'm moving back to Ireland. Well, I'm in Ireland right now, but I'm renting out my room  in Durham soon and moving back officially at the end of October. Doubling up on hospital appointments and ante-natal care, and flying back and forth for me and Leo is no longer practical. I want us to enjoy this experience together, in one place, our home, so that means I'll be working from my desk in UCD from now on. It also means finding a new home for the three of us, good things in the works in that respect. 

We're getting into the throes of autumn now, and I'm enjoying the cooler temperatures (I sweat a LOT in Summer) and abundance of produce. Long walks in Durham led to blackberry eating, and apples and plums have been made into crumbles and stewed with yoghurt. 

Now that I have an appetite again, I am vigorously spending as much time cooking, savouring those hours spent in the kitchen. And of course, eating a varied and healthy died is much better for me and the baba than spaghetti hoops and tinned rice pudding (don't judge me til you've been there, folks). In Durham I've been enjoying a lot of smoothies, and porridge is making a comeback. I'm also embracing pizza making, with Leo teaching me the ways of yeast, which I've never used before.

I'm cycling as much as humanly possible, my preferred mode of transport and exercise. Leo got me this gorgeous bike which is sturdy and fast, and I am looking forward to the many thousands of kilometers I will travel on it. I intend to cycle for as long in the pregnancy as is physically possible (heavily pregnant Danish cyclists are my inspiration here) and will start back with baby in tow as soon as is safe.

 Life is very good, have a good autumn!

Durham Miner's Gala

This year I got a chance to attend the Miner's Gala in Durham (I missed it last year), and I walked with the City of Durham Labour party banner. To see so many people with similar values all coming together in one place was really special. After the gala, there was a session at the Elm Tree with loads of lovely Geordies playing Irish music. It felt like home.

To support the gala and find out more information: http://www.durhamminers.org/gala