Sunday, May 12, 2013

My first ever mother's day

Sunday 12 May 2013

* Mother's Day meant I could eat whatever I wanted which meant we had pancakes. WIN!

*Had my first breastfeeding in public experience, incidentally whilst I was eating pancakes. I was merely a vessel for pancakes and maple syrup for the little guy. Secretly hoped someone would chide me so I could rile up the ABA and spark a militant breastfeed sit in protest.

* Quite literally poop was on today's list of remarkables. There I was thinking it was just an ordinary nappy change. I go to make the final wipe down of the little prince's bottom and poooff.... a gentle foamy yelllow gush farts out of his little pooper. Hmm that's strange. I wipe it off and then again pOOOF, this time a bit stronger.
This happens several times until eventually I am panic yelling for Dad to come and witness this yellow foamy fountain streaming out of our son's butt.

It had the consistency of those fancy foam soups one might try to attempt on My Kitchen Rules. Except really really yellow. And that it's poop. And someone had put this concoction into a champagne bottle in his butt and uncorked it in celebration.

Projectile shit foam all over the change table and its surrounds. An innocent bystanding packet of baby wipes a casualty of baby poop coming to it rather than the other way around. Another unschedule bath for the little man.

I have no photos of this poop explosion for which the world should thank me. If I did it would be a carnage of soiled tissues, a mountain of wipes I had thrown in desperation and one smug looking baby in the middle.

* I cried today at the thought that I still can't properly breastfeed my baby. It is so damn frustrating not getting it right and watching your baby cry in hunger because we both haven't quite worked it out yet.

* Realising that we did not change Buddyboo's nappy for a whopping 9 hours last night. Whoops. Please don't tell DOCS on us.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

My Breasting Journey

Saturday 11 May 2013

*Leaving the house and feeling the sun in my face. Having a newborn means getting ready to leave the house is a bit like trying to empty a sinking boat of water with a shitty plastic cup. Which made today's trip to the shops for a frozen yoghurt treat all the more of a deeeelight. Had one of those watermelon ones with gummy rice cake topping. It says a lot when a franchise dessert is a highlight for the week.

Handsfree hugging
*Today's hero definitely has to be the Hug-a-Bub. Crying needy baby? Need to wash the dishes? Need to walk around the shops with a baby? Need to do airplanes with my arms in joyful celebration of the fact that I made it out of the house? Admittedly I was not filled with confidence when I took it out of the box. It seemed like an endless carpet roll of t-shirt material, and my first thought was that I got ripped off yet again by another useless baby product scam. But alas I watched the instructional dvd it came with and I was enlightened... aaaah halo moment. I don't think I could make it through a day without this now. It's my go-to when Buddyboo just won't calm down. I think it emulates being in the womb all tucked in close to mummy.

*Saturdays. Unexpectedly so, I still find myself looking forward to weekends as a stay at home mum. Weekends mean that Dad is around to help out, cop some of the midnight nappy changes, hand me a drink without having to disturb a sleeping baby in my arms, a second pair of arms when mine are tired. Basically the privilege of peeing whenever I want is restored. The rest of the week Dad is excused from night duties so he can clock some beauty sleep for his day ahead. Dad was definitely MVP today (but not last night.. see poopy point below). Just look at this bloody freakin beautiful dinner he made for us.

*A two hour afternoon cuddle-fest/nap on the couch with Buddyboo. Sleep + baby love = everything I need right now.

*Noticing Buddyboo's increasing number of chins. Oh it fills me with joy that my nutritious milk is indeed nutritive. Looking forward to turning my skinny baby into a fattyboomsticks.
I think we're up to three chins at the moment

*Breastfeeding. Hot damn it's hard. It's almost like a quest for me now.. I just want to kill at breastfeeding. I want to be a champ. Like if there was a tournament, I'd want to be a seeded player at least. And Buddyboo's recent weight gain is egging me on. Also, I've decided I don't like the word breastfeeding. I shall call it "breasting" from hereforth.

*I read a woman's blog on the internet today about her "breasfeeding journey". It was all touchy feely and exploring all the different issues that come up. There's so much theory to breasting, I wish there was less thinking and more intuitive doing.

*Everything you do as a mum seems to promote boob flattening. Carrying, feeding, comforting, burping all seem to exert downward force in the chest region. Here's my interpretation of the trajectory of my breasting journey.

Week 0: the look I was going for
Week 1-2: Engorgement

Weeks 3-4: Mastitis
Weeks 5-6: Breast pumps and paraphernalia

Weeks forever on: voila, your boobs woman

*Do not like it when Dad sleep talks insensitively at night. It basically goes something like:

3am. Baby just been fed in an epic battle with mummy's boobs. I'm on the verge of tears because it was so difficult.

me: hey hun, can you change his nappy?
dad: stares blankly at me. Becomes obvious he is actually still asleep. Says absolutely nothing.
me: I said, do you mind changing his nappy?
dad: thinks for a second. Naah... turns and goes back to sleep pulling the blanket over him
me: pokes dad a few times.... nothing. Decide quicker to do it myself.

This happens a few times over the night until I am just fuming. I start sobbing about how I feel unsupported and how it might as well be a weekday, and why was I stupid enough to look forward the weekend when he was just going to opt out of helping. Finally Dad wakes up swearing on his son's life that he had no conscious recollection of any of the number of insensitive interactions we had while he slept. If only Buddyboo inherited his father's superpower of sleeping through anything. Oh well... that prosciutto salad we had for dinner made up for it.

Too tired. I'm going to bed.

Friday, May 10, 2013

Buddyboo and his first poop


This first post reflects on the last five weeks that little Buddyboo has entered and rocked our worlds.

I'm a first time mum deciding to record the ups and downs of discovering life with a first time baby aka Buddyboo, the most beautifulest, wonderfulest baby in the world. Don't call me biased because I'm fairly sure what I just said is evidence-based and  scientifically accurate. Just ask my sidekick first time dad.

It seems parenting comes with a lot of lovely moments and a lot of poop.  Thought this blog would be a good way of not letting the little lovely and poopy things fly away into forgotten. When you stay at home as a mum and every day and night blends into the next in a sea of nappy changes and late night sessions... all the little things are like precious golden nuggets of memories. I've missed so many little memories in just five weeks. This post is probably going to be longer than usual. So as a whole so far, here they are.....

Buddyboo is officially the best baby in the history of the entire universe. His face is like magic my heart combusts into a milky way of warm and fuzzies when I look at him. His breath is so heavenly I sit there just smelling him like a crazy person. It's amazing how one can wordlessly and unconditionally love a tiny little being whom you've just met. 

At one week old... he's so much bigger than this already

*Buddyboo today attaining the ripe old age of 5 weeks old. Best accomplishment in life so far (apart from being awesome despite the absence of the power of speech or controlled mobility) - the Lucas Heights sized dump he did yesterday while we were out... and sleeping on his own for four solid hours. Other notable accomplishments, smiling, some neck control during tummy time, and managing to no longer green mushroom cloud explode poop into his baths as he did the first time. I'm almost tempted to say he quite likes a warm bath these days.

*First time dad aka Big Lovely, on board and goes for "Most Valuable Player" award everyday. Wins "Most Enthusiastic" most days. Does lovely things like make sandwiches for me before leaving the house each morning so I can just shovel into my mouth and not get in the way of caring for Buddyboo. Today, I saw his gentle reminder to please eat something healthy by strategically placing yoghurt and a pear suggestively in the most accessible part of the fridge. It was obstructing my stash of TimTams. Also, check out his gourmet dinner plans laid out and managed on our fridge door. A feat given his full schedule. What a star.

*Feeling needed. Eventhough a newborn's clinginess to his mother can mean I don't pee all day, or that I've rushed through each shower I've ever had in the last 5 weeks, or that I often have to choose between eating or sleeping but not both... it is nice to know that this person needs you so much, has to have you cuddle him so much and I often wonder and hope, loves you so much too. He is utterly and hopelessly dependent on us.. one day when he rebelliously moves out of home against our advice and lives his own life and marries some whore who will never be good enough for him, I am going to look back at these moments with warm fondness. I'm joking about the whore bit by the way, I'm sure he/she will be lovely if Buddyboo loves them.

*Confoundment and the endless guessing game. "Why is he crying?" beeping permanently through my head like I'm a sonar radar in mission control.

*Helplessness when you can't get the right answer to question above after trying everything on the list they gave you at parenting class. At the end you have a well-fed, clean nappied, recently poopied, burped, appropriately dressed baby who is still upset at the world.

*Sleeplessness and the guilt that comes with sleepy parenting. A newborn brings with it lots of joy and love. However, it doth taketh away any humanly possible chance of sleep.

A clinical sign of sleeplessness

Should put this in Hushamok's comments
box as a suggested modification
Such fatigue does produce some pretty Macgyver thinking. For example, I made some simple but important modifications to Buddyboo's Hushamok sleep hammock where he sleeps at night. I attached a rope that extends to my bed from where I can just tug to create a swing if I hear the tiniest grimace.

The other secret game sleepy parents often play is with our conscience called "Should I change him now or wait for the next poop to pile on top". After running the play off between logic like "It's better for the environment if one nappy catches two poops" against "noone wants to sleep in their own shit"... eventually this sleepy parent gets up and guiltily changes the nappy.

*Breastfeeding wars and the holy grail for the perfect latch. Buddyboo appears to have a short tongue and causes an uncomfortable scraping of the nipple with each suck leaving me sorely raw each time. He also seems determined to drink from my boob as though it were a straw that he must chomp and purse his lips on. It's like a dull piece of glass teasing your nipple endlessly. I hear they still use this nipple boarding technique in Guantanamo.

*Knowing my milk jugs are abundantly full and plentiful, yet the lil guy won't or can't get it out because of his fish lips drinking habits. I end up sitting there for two hours trying to siphon a whole lot of milk through the tiniest opening that is his pathetic latch. Before you know it, it's time for the next feed. It's like Groundhog Day - the Breastfeeding Sequel, only the loop is 2-3 hourly feeds eight to ten times a day.

*The PUPPS, ie the itchiest rash known to man. Or given that it's a pregnancy related rash... it's not  likely to be known to man. I've had it since I was 36 weeks pregnant. It's supposed to go away after delivery but in my case, it supernova'd into a universe of angry red papules all over my body (except my face, my angry face fire must have scared it away). Weeks and weeks of angry constant itching has been poopy indeed. Alas, the onset of colder weather seems to be scaring it away... and I hope I do not speak to soon when I say that after weeks of oatmeal baths, stinky pine tar soap and raw tearful itching.. it might finally be waning.

There are a few other things that fall by the wayside. Like how right now I literally have poop and breastmilk on my shirt. The actual poop and disgusting secretions, I don't really care so much.

Cliche train alert. It's all worth it. I've never been happier. He is the greatest thing I've ever done. I feel complete. Goddam I can't help but admit it, despite all the poop the cliches are all true. I love my new family :)