I’m jumping ahead in our story I haven’t perfected the journal of labour and delivery yet so let me start here.
Motherhood.
2 weeks has passed but it feels like a life time and a day all at the same time.
My body is tired so tired. My mind is in an state of exhaustion met with wild determination
And my soul it’s filled to the absolute brim with more love and wonder than I ever knew humanly possible.
We have been sleeping in 2 hour incriminates sometimes 3 if we’re lucky - so far we’re not that lucky haha!
I have had the wonderful joy of having wee’s, poo’s and vomit come at me in such quick force and succession not even a skilled ninja could save them-self from.
But it doesn’t matter- In fact we have even celebrated these shower worthy messes. It’s so funny if a friend vomited, shit and pissed on you in one night you probably wouldn’t want to see them again. Your kid - bring it on! after the mess finishes ( you hope) all you want to do is clean, feed, warm and love that little human and tell them mummy is here and it’s all going to be just fine. You even find yourself inspecting shitty nappies to make sure your little ones business matches the acceptable colour chart Google provides you. ( how did mums survive before google ?!)
I have taken an hour to eat some fruit, drink a hot coffee and sit in the sun, Music playing just a still moment in time where Tom has our precious daughter and I can just reflect on this whirl wind tornado that has blown into our lives.
Honestly it’s fuc*ing magical. Every little farty face windy smile, every snuggle even the 2am ones, when she holds my finger and doses off, that’s look of pure content when she is nestled on her mum or dad, the sweet little coo’s, the warthog grunts - it’s pure magic.
I have never doubted and trusted my self so much all at once. The first few days were hard. So so hard In fact harder than I ever imagined - it took us both by surprise! Your whole world changes, your exhausted beyond belief and all of a sudden your at home with this tiny little human who is 100% reliant on you not fuc*ing it all up. The hospital help is gone and your door is revolving with visitors who just want to hold and hug and love but have a way of overwhelming you more than you ever expected.
Tom actually said the funniest thing the other night - he said to me ‘I really thought this time off work I could give up drinking energy drinks.’ I laughed and laughed - we both did ( what a silly wishful thinker!)
Now I want to focus on one topic today-
Boob juice, espresso martini, liquid gold, breast milk - what ever you want to call it - in my house we have chosen espresso or espresso Martini ( I’ll explain later).
Breast feeding has been the hardest most guilt ridden journey of my life.
It is hard !! So dam hard. You expect it to be natural to just come, for your boobs to swell and milk to flow. You think I’ll be milking my self like a cow. Well guys my milk didn’t really arrive - call me what you want but it’s offical a cow is certainly not one of them !
Day 5 of our little darlings life she was beside her self - we all were. No sleep for 3 days constant crying, holding, feeding, putting down to then do it all again every single hour for 3 days.
Cracked bleeding nipples (what a joy) big big tears and feelings of helplessness and then a morning scheduled home visit from the nurses.
You are under feeding her - your position and latch is completely wrong. Guilt. So much guilt.
In my mind I had just been told I was starving my daughter - no one actually said this just my brain ( thanks so much for that one ). This appointment was really hard on me - this lady I don’t believe had the intention of making me feel like an absolute failure but she did. She wasn’t mean but she wasn’t soft and to be honest she didn’t really help me either no new tips to get a good latch just one to de latch - you have to stick your finger in to unlatch a baby from your nipple- NO ONE TOLD ME THAT FOR 5 DAYS. Ladies please take a moment to sympathise with my nipples the poor poor seemingly skinless things.
She said just ‘ keep trying but she is loosing too much weight so maybe look at a breastfeeding chart for help’ - how confusing is that advice !! And just can I add in the chart the cartoon baby doesn’t move - my little lady moves like she is apart of some mouthing mime challenge at the local fair!!
Night time came and the restlessness continued. The crying from her, from me, the shriek from her little hunger was more overwhelming than I ever anticipated. I remember thinking am I actually cut out for this.
Finally I called the hospital nurse desperate for help.
Top her up with formula. This felt like the biggest failure of my motherhood journey.
Tin food! ( the horror)
But boob juice is the best thing in the world everyone knows that. It’s on a poster on every wall of the hospital, everyone asks if your going
to breast feed- you even take a class to show you just how simple and important it is.
After the call I dragged my sobbing self to Tom to ask him to go to the shop. He bought home the competition - the formula - the tin milk. I cried.
Tom fed her ( I literally could not partake in feeding her that way it made me feel defeated) she gulped down every drop of that first bottle like a ravenous rescued animal and then she slept. Slept deeply for 4 hours!! And I cried even more.
My milk drunk little best friend satisfied off formula not my desperately produced boob juice. Tom actually said look at this little milk drunk baby and i lost my mind crying hysterically! I couldn’t believe he would say such a thing and even worse he was right! she was so content of a food source other than me. He apologised immediately and vowed never to say such things again. pregnancy hormones - Such a wonderful wild ride filled with irrational things. ( poor Tom he really is a saint).
I have kept up the attempts at breast feeding - spoke to a lactation consultant. Drank and ate all the recommended things to boost my supply and little by little 15ml has turned to 30ml to sometimes 60ml but no more. My body seems to be destined to produce an espresso of milk. Sometimes if we try for a looong time a martini!
So we mix feed. I offer my little darling girl the top shelf espresso first and then finish her off on the tin food. Which to be honest now the mum shame and guilt has subsided truth be told is a life saver.
You know what the best type of baby is - a fed baby. If anyone is struggling with their feeding journey don’t let this society pressure that’s breast is best get you down. Don’t let the posters haunt you. The disapproving look from older midwifes get to you. Be kind to yourself you and me we are doing the best we can and what our bodies allow.
If your baby is fed, is happy, is sleeping properly then LOVE that tin food hard- remember it takes a village to raise a baby and no one said that village wasn’t stocked with a fine selection of powdered sanity.
P.s we both refer to our little darling as a milk drunk skunk now and no one shed’s a tear ;)
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