Sunday, 5 February 2017

Baby & Me: Six Weeks

She's six weeks old, practically a teenager. We have already put some of her clothes into a box for the loft. I've cried  because I was looking at pictures from 'when she was a baby'. The voice of reason (Tom) is finding my hormones and the loopy things they say quite hilarious. It's been a roller coaster
and I feel like I've forgotten things already so I'm going to try to do these updates more regularly to remember these fleeting feelings.

Her hair has lightened slightly although it's still brown. She's putting on weight, and lots of it, she's growing at an alarming rate and is already wearing some age 3 month clothes. She's feeding well (after a very shaky start) but as I'm breastfeeding we can't tell how much she takes. With 400g weight gain in a week my guess is that she's guzzling it down. She's taken her time down from 40-60 minutes per feed (that was sore) to 20, which is much more sociable! In the evenings she tends to take a mega feed to see herself through the night (well, part way through the night). It took about two weeks to find her rhythm during which we were zombies and now goes to sleep at 11ish and wakes around 3am and then 7am (ish). Although I've probably totally jinxed myself now! She definitely feels heavier to lift and fills nappies regularly with a substance that has put me off chicken korma for the foreseeable future.

She cries a lot, although we're becoming quicker at guessing the reason. 60% of the time it's a full nappy alert or a request to cash in yet another free milk refill. The rest of the time it's a whinge that I like to call "I wanted the blue straw". I feel i'll be seeing that little upset face until she's well into primary school! We have resorted to a dummy for these moments. I wasn't happy (I cried when we first gave it to her because I was pretty sure it meant that I'd failed at motherhood) but she's a happier baby because of it, it gives me a moment's grace to get to a comfortable place to feed without her becoming purple with rage. I realised pretty quickly in this motherhood lark that you just have to do what works for you. It doesn't stop me feeling a bit guilty every time I pop her dummy in to get through a doctor's appointment in peace. We've started giving her Infacol before each feed which seems to help get the burps up a bit easier.

At first she cried every time we changed her nappy, it took her a week to work out that we were in fact trying to remove the poo from her bottom rather than murder her. Now she quite likes the clean bum, in fact she will not sit in a poo without complaint for more than a moment, mind you, nor would I! She's also very gassy and struggles to evacuate the old windy pops, when they do finally come, they are outrageously loud.

She's more alert every day and follows things with her eyes now, although doesn't need any more stimulation than a lightbulb or the stitching on the inside of her pram to be mesmerised. She makes loads of noises from odd pained sounding grunts (wind) to super cute gurgles. Catching these on video is almost impossible and whole chunks of my day are lost to this pursuit. She's amazing, incredible, beautiful, hilarious and bloody hard work and I still can't believe I made her in my belly.

I'm still recovering. Still. I'm past the hormonal tears, I cried every day for the first two weeks about something or other. I have this under control now! It's sore to walk too far and I'm usually wiped out by the time Tom gets home from work, the GP reminded me that it's not been long since I pushed a baby out, she did say that I've been unlucky but I just wasn't prepared for the post-partum pain. Or blood. So much blood! That only lasted two and a half weeks, and stopped after a lump of my insides fell out. The midwife said it was a piece of placenta (yes I did take it to her in a ziplock bag). The bruising has subsided now and it does get better every day, but I'm waiting for referral appointment to be relieved of this pain. It is no fun. Only this week have I been able to carry the car seat myself, pick things up off the floor, empty the washing machine/dishwasher. Oh and stand up from a seated position whilst holding the baby. TMI? Maybe, but I never read anything about this side of the birth and I don't want to give the impression that it's a breeze. It's incredible, wonderful, awesome but a breeze, it is not. Luckily my mum's been on hand at the drop of a hat to help with literally everything. And to pretend that she's enjoying the ironing and cleaning my kitchen floor.

Breastfeeding has been a rollercoaster too but I'm grateful that we managed it. No matter how long it lasts now, it made me feel good that although I couldn't pick her up, change her nappy, or rock her to sleep, I could nourish her. That was my saving grace. I'm just in the process of writing the story so far because I'm very conscious that my jolly Instagram breastfeeding pics might be giving the impression that it's been easy. It hasn't, but, in brief, it's getting easier every day, mostly. It's no longer sore for me to feed which makes any other feeding problem easier to handle.

Body-looks wise, my boobs are a few sizes bigger, which is difficult to adjust to! My tum is still a little bit jelly-like to the touch and and I look like a 70 year old sun worshipper it's so wrinkly and brown.  The darker brown line down the middle is still very prominent.  I've lost a little bit of weight naturally but still have around a stone and a half to lose, I'm not beating myself up about it, I'm sure (hope) it will start to drop off as soon as I can start pavement-pounding with the pram.

That's about it from us, now I'd better get some sleep while she does!


1 comment

  1. I love the fact that you've shared the bits of your journey that no one normally does. I'm 23 weeks and prepared for all! xxx


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