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.

No comments:

Post a Comment