Childcare

Tomorrow Mr Poo Poo man aka JA is starting childcare.

He is being 'orientated' while I am still at home in case it turns into a complete disaster and he either burns the centre down or has a mental breakdown. Neither of which is likely. The fact is, I decided to have him start a little early is to help me cope better with the whole prospect of actually leaving him at a place that is not his or his grandparents home. It's a concept that I am having a difficult time coming to terms with. I know it had to be done and I know he will benefit hugely from it as he is a social little mite. I think I have identified this anxiety as me mourning for the time I spent at home with my two boys. It's back to work again even if it is only for 2 days per week and my time at home exclusively being Mummy will be a precious memory. I know the day I have to leave them BOTH (the baby is going to be cared for by my wonderful mum) I will need some heavy duty tissues.

In other news I finally got the roll of film used in the operating room when JM was born developed. The delivery of the digital camera came one day after the delivery of the baby. The photo of the actual birth is way more graphic than JAs one. It apparently caused some concern for the girl who processed the film. I often wondered how closely they looked at the photographs of their clients.

Great big buckets of love to both my boys. xoxoxo

Back to reality

Here's JA about 2 months ago, so he would have been 17.5 months. He had highjacked his Dad's box as he was trying to pack away the bottles of his recently brewed beer. And where JA goes, so does Teddy.

I am returning to work, 2 days a week, next month. I've been trying to get JA a child care place for months now and have finally found him one. The added bonus is a girl I used to babysit as an infant just started working there. It makes me feel a whole lot better knowing she will be one of the two people in his 'room'. I was feeling 12 different types of worry about this whole child care thing - some of those worries have lessened somewhat now.

His vocab is improving in leaps and bounds. This morning when I got the littliest lad out of bed JA looked at us and said "Mummy and Baby!". Warms the cockles of my heart.

JM will be looked after by my Mum. I can't stand the though of putting both my little babies in child care, and it is too much for her to take care of them both, considering the hurricane with legs that JA is.

JA loves hanging with his people so I know he will enjoy child care.

Bye bye boobie, bye bye

I have almost completely weaned JM off the boob. Well, in fact he's been off the boob for a few weeks now, having completely refused to attach. I have a very low milk supply. His cries can directly be translated as "Take that thing away and bring me a proper meal woman!" But I've been expressing. I express about just under a bottle's worth over a 24 hour period. After 14.5 weeks I just can't do it anymore.

A bit of history first.

When I was pregnant with JA I instantly knew I wanted to breast feed. I think we are all well versed in the benefits of breastfeeding. I promptly read all the related literature I could get my hands on as I'd heard that being well informed helped to make breast feeding successful. I didn't really research bottle feeding because it wasn't what I had planned. When JA was born I wanted to put him on the breast as soon as I possibly could. From the beginning he never really sucked well but the midwives at the hospital did their level best to help me. I was put on the milking machine pretty early on as well to try and establish a supply. Afer a few days a midwife gently suggested he get a top up with formula. I asked if we could hold out a little bit longer, I didn't want to sabotage the whole feeding thing. The next day it became evident however that the poor kid was getting increasingly hungry and irritable so I relented and a bottle was delivered. He sucked on that thing for dear life. The poor thing was starving. From that moment on I offered the boob, then a bottle of formula, then expressed what was left to feed him at the next feed with the formula. While in the hospital (I was in a private hospital and stayed six days because I'd had a caesar), I made sure I gleaned as much info as I could from the collective wisdom of the midwives and saw a couple of lactation consultants. By the time I left to go home JA was definitely showing signs on not wanted anything to do with this boob caper, it was took much effort for such a tiny gain. I persisted, went to boob school (aka the breastfeeding clinic), rang the ABA (Australian Breastfeeding Association) and again saw lactation consultants. I went on maxalon and fenugreek as these have been known to increase supply. JA simply refused to attach after about a week so I formula fed and expressed. There is nothing lonelier than using a breast pump at 3 o'clock in the morning. The most I expressed in one sitting was 10mls. My supply just wasn't established and my heart breaking decision was to wean and simply formula feed. 10mls at the most of breast milk just didn't seem worth it. Weaning was not something I had wanted to do but I did it with the support of the maternal and child health nurse, the lactation consultant and my hubs. I grieved over the fact that I couldn't control this. It didn't seem fair somehow.

I found that a large number of people asked me how I fed my baby. Like it was any of their concern? I felt compelled to explain myself everytime. I got a number of strangers in parent rooms in shopping centres asking me why I was bottle feeding and didn't I know breast is best? The first time that happened I promptly burst into a fit of tears. The second time I got angry and the third time I wanted to smash their smug little face in.

When I got pregnant with JM I was committed to giving breastfeeding another go. But I was sure I wouldn't allow myself to get as emotionally invested in it as I did last time. JM took to it a lot better than JA and for the majority of the first week I was all he needed. I started to gain confidence that it may work out this time. Then things started to change. He started to get irritable and wouldn't settle after a feed. I knew what was coming. I started taking motilium, fenugreek and blessed thistle and they seemed to boost my supply. Not enought to breastfeed alone but at least he got something. I went back to boob school and back to the ABA. I resigned myself to combining boob and bottle. However, as the weeks went on I found I was comping him with breast rather than bottle and my supply was diminishing even with the herbs and medication. I get 20mls at each express now and he, like his big brother, is insulted when he's presented with the boob. Hence the decision to wean again. I am expressing but less and less each day. Soon I'll be pumping a dry well.

I loved breastfeeding. I loved the fact that I alone still nurtured my babies long after they left my body. I loved the closeness of it. I loved looking down at my gorgeous, gorgeous boys and watching them feed. But it wasn't to be.

Beautiful boy

Beautiful boy
Originally uploaded by mrs_pants.

JM, son#2, at 2.5 months.

Opinions, advice and not minding your own - Part 1

When I found out I first pregnant in mid 2003 I knew that I'd be flooded with advice and opinions. Some useful, some not so and some just plain bizarre. Every newly pregnant couple and new parents expect it - it's almost like a right of passage. What was unexpected though was the plethora offensive, judgmental crap spewing forth from strangers and people who should know better.

1. The number one way to annoy me is to ask "Is he a good baby?" Nah actually he has just taken up worshipping satan and yesterday I caught him on the internet looking up how to make a bomb! What they are asking of course is he difficult to settle and does he cry a lot. Like babies are being cheeky and defiant by having the audacity to cry. Stupid!

2. Both my babies were born via caesarean section. #1 because I had pre-eclampsia and he had to come out then and there, two weeks early, or we both would have died. My body wasn't anywhere near ready for an induction. My obstetrician was the one who, after examining me, came to that conclusion. Apparently she knows less than the asshat who could barely construct a coherent sentence who told me I had cheated and could have waiting and gone into labour naturally. Regardless of the fact that my blood pressure almost blew the cuff off the BP machine, my extremities were swollen like footballs and my kidneys were failing. #2 was breech, with one leg up near his belly, the other tucked under his bum. Even with the episiotomy from hell a natural birth would have been near on impossible.
My boys aren't entitled to birthdays it seems as I've been told didn't give birth. Someone will have to inform hallmark that they need to print Happy Caesar Day cards for these occasions. Silly me, I was only concerned with my babies being born breathing and having everything where it should be. Dickheads!

3. Continuing on the caesar thing - caesars are supposedly the easy way out. Major abdominal surgery coupled with quite excessive pain is easy apparently.

Coming soon... how the Catholic church has nothing on the breastfeeding nazis when it comes to guilt.

3 months

Today, my wee one, you turn 3 months old. You have already grown from a tiny little bean into a smiley, giggly bundle of baby goodness. I love how, when we look at eachother, I see reflected in your eyes, your dad, your big brother and myself. You are one of us but you are definitely your own person. You love talking to yourself now and you watch your brother with awe and fascination. Your big brother thinks you are pretty special too, but you have had to endure the occasional eye poke or affectionate slap on the head when Mum and Dad aren't quick enough. You've developed tears now and when I see your face wet with tears it cuts into my heart.

You are a lovely, delightful little person and we are so lucky to have you in our family. I love you bunny!

Conversations with dumb people

I was in a shop yesterday and this is a conversation I had with the sales assistant. I had the wee one with me, Mum had JA.

HER: What a gorgeous baby!!
(No prizes there - he is bew-ti-ful)

ME: Thanks.

HER: How old is he?

ME: He'll be three months on Friday.

HER: God he's big!

ME: Well actually, according to the health nurse he's completely average.

HER: Yeah? What would she know?

19 Months

JA, son#1, turns 19 months old today. In the last month he has become a yoghurt and Wiggles addict. He asks for "Giggly Party" (Wiggly Party) constantly and when a refusal is given starts whining parrrrrrrrrrrrtttttttttttteeeeeeee relentlessly. Remembering Super Nanny's advice I don't relent even though for the sake of some momentary peace the thought is very attractive. Distraction works some of the time. He has also taken to taking the lid off his cups and tipping water everywhere and a whole array of other destructive activities to keep Mum occupied!

But when he puts his arms around my neck, his face next to mine and squeezes hard all is forgiven.

I love you so much poo poo man!

Serenity now!

Insanity later.

What a day! I got absolutely NOTHING done except feed, clothe and bathe my babes. Either one or the other was completely demanding of my attention. Son #1 (JA) flexed his toddler muscles and smeared banana and cheese into the carpet, spilt 250mls of water all over the kitchen floor and tried to drink his baby shampoo. Son #2 (JM) was very clingy and would literally howl whenever I put him down for a second. He has just started shedding real tears now which makes his crying especially sad. Mr_Pants was working furiously in the garden trying to prepare our house for a party we are having next month to celebrate the birth of our beautiful second born. The house looks like a tornardo has been through it. Before I had children I was the classic anal retentive. My clothes were hung uni-directionally, in length and colour order and I had matching hangers. Every drawer, cupboard and shelf was perfect. I dusted the skirting boards weekly for God sake. Now I am lucky when I can find the toothpaste and a clean pair of knickers in the morning.

My heart aches I love my boys so much but some days are so hard.