I had been planning this moment for months. My completely natural birth; I had decided that using only hypnobirthing and water for pain relief would lead to being completely and utterly ‘in touch’ with the birth and I would feel every moment.
I should have realised that the more I planned, the more likely it was to be a disaster.
I use the word disaster in a melodramatic manner. Jude’s birth was worlds away from my planned birth, but I feel remarkably ‘ok’ with it. Nay, I feel elated!
At one point I took a selfie with the anaesthetist behind me about to insert the epidural that I had practically been forced to have. Everything had happened sooooo slowly over the initial induction, then as soon as ‘the powers that be’ decided I was ready, everything happened so quickly! I had completely lost control of my perfectly planned, relaxed, natural, drug free, spontaneous birth…
Jude is a week old today!
We have managed to keep him alive for a week! We actually high fived this morning having nailed almost 8 hours of sleep overnight and had a successful feed. Some days I feel as though we were born to do the whole child-raising thing, then I find myself crying hysterically in our bedroom having handed him to daddy as he’s refusing to feed or reaching for the dummy we said we wouldn’t give him because he’s so upset with wind he can barely breathe.
Jude has a problem with my right boob. My left boob is apparently much more appealing. For those of you that intend to breastfeed, remember this: once your milk ‘comes in’, your boobs fill up pretty rapidly. This makes them go hard. This is known as engorgement, and a baby struggles to latch onto (get a good suck on) engorged boobs. So, Jude doesn’t like my right boob. This means that my right boob got ‘engorged’ and he hated it even more. I didn’t know this could happen. I went for 3 days of hysterical feeding attempts and sometimes 6-7 hours between feeds (gasps of horror!) and generally felt dreadful. Midwives came and gave me ‘advice’ (which mainly involves complete strangers ‘helping’ me by grabbing my boob and forcing my nipple into his mouth), as did a breastfeeding consultant and not one of them mentioned engorgement. A short spell on Google and a few sessions on a manual breast pump eventually rectified this situation and it seems that slowly but surely we are getting there with the breast feeding.
I don’t know how I would have coped had I given birth ‘pre-internet’.
So, 1 week in and my life revolves around feeding. But it is the best feeling in the world so I’m cool with it. In fact, it’s a pretty amazing thing:)
Steve, my partner and Jude’s daddy updated his Facebook status this week. This is a big deal because he never usually does anything on Facebook, let alone actually posting something.
It said ‘of the 14 photos I have taken today, 5 of them are of poo’.
One of the antenatal sessions we attended talked about baby’s poo and how it changes over the first few days of their life. So in order to keep a record of what was going on in his nappies, in this day and age photos seemed like the best option!
On top of the photos, we managed to work out that at just 47 hours and 45 minutes old, Jude had done 8 poos! What a beast! Apparently this is a good thing… And whilst his poo smells so sweet, I don’t mind!
…This brings me to the times affectionately known as ‘poogate’ and ‘peegate’. And they are exactly as you can imagine. I have already had the honour of being peed on whilst changing his nappy twice in 1 change and Steve has been subject to this behaviour 3 times since his belated arrival, as well as having to deal with a pooing baby mid-change! To add insult to injury, a friend visited today and Jude politely sniffed out his dislike and utter fear for anything remotely poo or vomit related and had his first explosive poo nappy. All up his back and through his lovely new frog-covered baby grow! (Which incidentally is perfect for the hot weather we’ve been having and consists of a tshirt-style sleeve and short-style leg – lovely!) I think it’s safe to say our poor guest won’t be volunteering his cwtching services any time soon.
We’re still here and persevering.
On top of the feeds, the nappies, the poo and the unplanned labour, we have had hormones, good-intentioned mothers (first grandchild), poo, mother-in-laws, swollen feet, mucus vomit, winding, poo, tears (mine and Jude’s), midwives, weight loss, slings, sore nipples, weight gain, lack of sleep, expressing, poo and more poo!
But we’ve survived. A whole week. And although I don’t want to wish the time away, I think we might just be able to manage raising our baby boy. In fact, I can’t wait!